#as if she doesn’t dream of begging at her feet every second of the day

[cacoetheswriting]

girl you have that really angsty Eddie fic where he gets hooked on things he shouldn't and it ruins his relationship with reader - please please please write some more Eddie angst, BEGGING

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 5k

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it��s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: heavily unedited (sorry): angsty angst, mature themes & adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, anxiety / panic attacks, emotional hurt / no comfort, unrequited (sorta) love, some mutual pining, love triangle?, eddie is a bit of an asshole, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief — pls let me know if i missed any!

AUTHOR UPDATE: SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Parking your car at the desired destination, you glance out the half-opened window and note how the weather is far from ideal for the planned activities. 

It’s cold. Cold enough to make anyone's atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds cover every inch of the sky above, hiding the beautiful autumn sun. The air is brisk. It’s harsh against your skin as you eventually get out of the red Jeep and the unwelcoming breeze that follows makes you wish that you had packed warmer clothes for this weekend.

Jesus, you think, as if this trip wasn’t going to be hard enough.

When your feet hit the gravel below, you exhale, wondering whether it’s too late to change your mind about agreeing to come. Since the weather was seemingly against you, what’s to say the universe wasn’t going to continue ruining this weekend? But before you get a chance to decide what your next move is going to be, the door of the lake house swings open and Nancy runs out, arms spread wide as she squeals with excitement.

“I can’t believe you actually came!”

The hug she gives you is strong, almost full force. It takes you a second to register that one second she was running out of the house, and the next, her arms are wrapped tightly around you as if no time has passed between now and when you last saw her. Therefore, it takes you a second to hug her back, but when you do, a small smile circles your lips. Familiarity. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

“Of course I came,” you say as she draws back, “You know me, Nance, always down for a good time.”

Nancy laughs. “Oh, I remember.”

Then her smile falters just as fast as it appears and you know exactly which memory crosses her mind because your own thoughts wander back to that moment too, along with the people involved.

“Sorry, my joke was in poor taste. If you can even call that a joke.” You admit with a lighthearted huff.

“No, no.” Nancy shakes her head, but even with the years that have passed since you last saw each other in person, you know the look in her eye is one of concern.

You think to try and ease at least some of her worry since she did go through all the trouble to organise this weekend for your high school group to get together and the last thing you’d want is for her to second-guess ever inviting you.

“I- uh… I actually don’t really drink anymore.”

Her facial expression shifts to one of surprise, though she doesn’t say anything which would demonstrate that. Instead, she smiles again.

“Good for you,” the tone of her voice conveys pride and you’re grateful.

“Thanks, Nance.”

One day you’ll tell her about the road that led you to sobriety, but today’s not that day.

Today is about reintroducing yourself to the friends that have helped you get through four hellish years that were called ‘high school’. The people that were there for you through the good and the ugly; which got real fucking ugly sometimes. The group that most often than not was your literal lifeline. 

Nancy, your best friend. Robin, your sidekick. Jonathan, your unlicensed therapist. Steve, your partner in crime. And Eddie…

You haven’t seen any of them since graduation.

Three years of virtually no contact.

Sure, it made you wonder why you were even invited to this weekend getaway in the first place, but Nancy was always like a sister so you knew her motives were definitely not malicious.

“Let me help you with your bags,” the brunette girl offers and before you get a chance to decline, say you’ve got them on your own since you really didn’t bring much with you, she’s at the boot of your car.

While Nancy fills you in on the plans she’s made for everyone, the various activities she’s organised for the days ahead, the two of you gather your belongings before making your way towards the big house. 

Apparently everyone is already here.

Nancy, Jonathan, and someone called Argyle (a new addition to the group, undoubtedly a breath of fresh air following your departure), got here last night. Steve, Robin, and Eddie arrived this morning.

“But the boys went to the shop to get all the groceries we need for this weekend, so right now it’s just me and Robin.” Nancy explains, fingers wrapping around the door handle. It’s her way of saying not to be nervous, he wasn’t here right now, and with that your shoulders relax in relief.

The inside of the house is even more impressive than its exterior. High ceilings, all wooden floors, and decor that undoubtedly cost more than anything you own or could actually afford. In the living area, there’s paintings on the walls that depict the home during construction, then in its full glory, as it stands now. Various knick-knacks fill the shelving, and the bookcase at the back of the room is filled top to bottom with stories you’ve never even heard of.

You allow yourself to continue into the kitchen, which looks like a piece out of Architectural Digest. Modern touches to the original design, upgraded appliances that look like they’ve never been used. There’s a large dining table in the back of the space, already set for dinner. The windows behind it offer a perfect view of the lake and as you look at the water; peace. For a split-second, you let yourself really think that coming wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“Jesus, Nance, how the hell did you find this place?” You ask in awe once the girl stands beside you.

“Argyle has this aunt who’s an avid Airbnb user. Honestly, when he first showed me the pictures, I thought he was out of it, like he usually is, but here we are...”

You don’t get to tell her how beautiful you think it is ‘cause there’s a high-pitch screech that startles you, and within seconds, someone’s arms wrap around your frame, swaying you from side to side.

“When Wheeler told me you agreed to come, I swear I thought she was bluffing!”

Robin drops her arms, allowing you to turn in your spot and face her. The grin on her face is wide, complimenting her new haircut, which is about the only thing that’s changed in her physical appearance over the last three years.

She playfully smacks your arm. You do the same to her. It’s reminiscent of a handshake, an acknowledgment that despite the years of only sending and receiving generic birthday texts, you guys were still as close as ever.

“Long time no see, Buckley. Loving the new look.” You point to her long bleached locks.

“Yeah? I was going for that badass lesbian vibe. What Daenerys should’ve been.”

You chuckle. “Well, I’d say mission accomplished.”

“Thanks,” Robin smirks then takes the duffle out of your grasp and turns to Nancy, asking to lead the way to the room that’s been assigned to you.

Up the stairs and down the long hallway, the girls point to the shared bathroom, but Nancy says your room actually has an en-suite. Then she outlines which door leads to whose bedroom — Eddie’s is first up the stairs and you wonder whose choice it was to deliberately keep you two away — before stopping at the last door and pushing it open to reveal your safe space for this weekend.

First thought that crosses your mind is how this one bedroom is bigger than your entire apartment. The bed alone would probably not fit in your current home. Second thought is how you have the same view as in the kitchen, only higher up, and you thank Nancy for assigning you this room for that reason alone.

“It’s no big deal,” she replies with a shrug, “You had the longest trip out here, only fair you get the best room, so you can properly rewind.” 

“As the organiser, you should have the nicest room,” you counter, but Nance just waves her hand, dismissing what was going to be an offer to swap.

She proceeds to place the bag she was holding at the foot of the bed.

“Get settled in and we’ll start on food once the guys return.”

“You should have enough time to shower, if you want,” Robin chimes in, also dropping the duffel she carried up for you, “Knowing the four of them, they’re still trying to locate the gluten free sticker on the pasta Nance asked for.”

“Rob,” Nancy snorts.

The blonde shrugs. “You know it’s true! Those idiots can’t fucking read.”

They leave you shortly after, telling you to take your time to clean up and change into something more comfortable. 

When the door shuts with a soft thud, you exhale a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. It’s all okay, it’s all okay, it’s all okay, you repeat to yourself silently, and although you feel a little calmer than when you first arrived, there is still tension in your neck. There’s only one reason for that. One that isn’t here right now, but is bound to arrive at any point in the next hour.

‘arrived safe & sound. still feeling a little nauseous about this whole thing, but I’m taking your advice.. keep positive.’ - The text to your mom sends with a whooshing sound as you throw your phone on the large bed.

You glance around the room again, taking in the decor as a distraction to the anxiety bubbling in your chest. The furnishings are similar to the rest of the house, classy with a modern twist. Peaceful colours that perfectly compliment the wooden fixtures, and the birds chirping melodically outside the open window only add to the serenity. It’s really one of the nicest places you’ve ever stayed in and you take a mental note to send Nancy a bouquet of flowers when you get home, as a thank you.

When you step under the shower, you’re even more grateful. 

Back in your own apartment, you’re not guaranteed warm water, having to often make a choice between rinsing off the hectic day or cleaning the dishes so there’s something to eat off. It’s the life you chose, so you really can’t complain, but standing here in silence as the hot droplets wash over your skin, you think maybe you chose wrong. Then you think how fucking selfish that is of you since there’s a clear list of reasons why, aside from the comfort of a scolding shower, the choices you made three years ago where far from good.

Leaving without saying goodbye to everyone, for one. No explanations, no notes.

Only Nancy knew of your plan. After all, she was the one that talked you into leaving. 

The final nail in the coffin — so to speak — was her opinion on the literal shitshow that the final months of your high school career had become. And when she sat you down, the afternoon before graduation, she made it clear how she was worried about you and perhaps it was for the best to get away from Hawkins. Leave everything and everyone behind, allowing yourself time to heal and get your head straight.

You had only planned to be gone that one summer. But things never go to plan, especially for you.

Three months turned into four, then six, and before you knew it, a year had passed since your departure. Some of the group had tried to reach out at various points during that time, but you didn’t engage — only replied to Nancy the odd time, and texted Robin the mentioned before birthday wishes. 

The one person you really wished checked in on you, was the only person that didn’t. Not like you could blame him. You broke his fucking heart.

It wasn’t entirely a secret that Eddie Munson had a big fat crush on you.

He wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but it was pretty damn close — as you later found out from Robin. Later. Too late. She then went on to say, when the rocker first laid eyes on you, standing at Nancy’s locker and laughing at something she’d said moments prior, Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. Then two. The metalhead thought you were perhaps the most gorgeous girl to ever walk down the halls of Hawkins High, although he never said it out loud. 

(Not to you anyway.)

Things changed however, when you started dating Billy Hargrove. 

That boy was a bad influence for sure, even more than Eddie’s wild antics, but at that point in your life, you saw the world through rose-coloured glasses and turned a blind eye to Billy’s shitty behaviour.

Your first drink was provided to you by the scruffy blonde.

The first time you blacked out was after his funeral.

Earth shattering, his sudden death. Having lost the first love you’ve ever had, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You didn’t know how to cope. By the time your senior year came around, and Eddie’s third attempt at graduation, your life only continued to spiral out of control.

Your parents announced their divorce. It was apparently no one’s fault — irreconcilable differences — but their break up meant the house you’d grown up in was being put up for sale and you suddenly had to choose who you wanted to live with. 

Being an only child never brought with it any pressures, until now. Your father was moving cross country. Relocating with his job, who no longer needed him at their Indianapolis location, preferred he run the new branch in Las Vegas. Your mother was also venturing outside Hawkins, just not as far. She apparently found this cute place in Fort Wayne and was already in talks with a local school there for a part-time teaching position.

The Wheelers took you in following a conversation between Karen and your mom about how you shouldn’t be finishing your high school education someplace new, so this solved one problem.

But being away from your support system unfortunately made you feel increasingly isolated. Your parents had this “open door” policy that you didn’t realise you needed until it was no longer readily available. Phone calls and texts just weren’t the same.

This time in your life proved how difficult it was to pretend you were genuinely happy.

Eddie was the first to notice the subtle change in your attitude. He’d often ask what was bothering you, but you’d always tell him nothing, so he eventually learned to stop and simply tried to distract you with his usual antics.

You hated him for it. You hated how he just knew how you were feeling. How he could sense those deep and inner thoughts you were trying to hide. And you hated now he would try to make you feel better when all you really wanted was for the sad feelings to swallow you whole.

Without proper supervision, your after school activities also shifted into ones that would fill the emptiness you were constantly feeling. You were always quite outgoing, always the first one to say yes when someone mentioned a party, but the months between December and April unlocked a new version of you. One not many people in your friend group were particularly a fan of, though all too afraid of saying something.

It all came crashing down the night of Chrissy Cunningham’s farewell party. A few days before graduation, she invited the entire senior year to her parents’ lavish home for a get together that her dickhead boyfriend called: Project X 2.0. 

You asked Steve to come with you — much to Eddie’s dismay.

In the end, Carver got his wish. The party was indeed memorable for all the wrong reasons and the endless list of mistakes you made that night, in your inebriated state, was precisely why you left Hawkins in a hurry.

Las Vegas turned out to not be so bad.

There were a few bumps in the road upon your first arrival. A few too many drunken nights, drunken fights, and drunken one night stands. But once your dad acknowledged your reckless behaviour was becoming a serious problem, things got a little easier. Therapy helped. 

A year and a half later, there was only one thing that made you want to reach for a drink to flush the hard work down the drain: Eddie Munson and how you treated him at that party, what you put him through that night.

In retrospect, you should’ve been the one to reach out to him. At least a call to say I’m sorry for the things I did and said. No time just felt like the right time and then, when Chrissy posted a picture of herself sitting happily in Eddie’s lap, it seemed a little too late.

Did it hurt to see him move on from the crush he had on you? Yes. 

Again, you couldn’t blame him for doing so.

-

“How was your shower?” Nancy asks when you come back downstairs.

She’s sitting on one of the sofas, a cotton blanket covering her legs. Robin is next to her, fingers working the keyboard of her phone, and looks up following Nancy’s question.

“No offence, but you look a lot better than when you first arrived.” 

The comment earns Buckley a good nudge to the rib cage by the brunette beside her. 

“Ow! Jesus Christ, Nance—”

“We talked about this,” Nancy interrupts, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

“It was a simple observation,” Robin defends, “I’m sure she’s fucking nervous to be here, rightfully so—”

“Robin!”

“It’s okay,” you chime in and the girls simultaneously turn to look at you once again. “Buckley’s right. I am nervous.”

Both their expressions simultaneously turn to one of sympathy. You plaster on the best smile you can muster before making yourself comfortable in an armchair by the open window, feeling their gaze follow your every move. You want to tell them to stop, tell them that the nerves will pass so it’s no big deal, but they’d see right through you. The topic of you, Eddie, and that horrendous high school party will haunt this group like a ghost, lingering in the background even if it’s addressed — which you’re going to have to do very soon. That’s why you came.

“He asks about you all the time,” Nancy says after a long pause, “What’s she doing? Is she working, studying?”

“Is she seeing anyone?” Robin adds.

“Is she happy…”

The ache in your chest increases with every spoken word, fueled by the guilt you carried every single day for the last three years. Somehow knowing now that Eddie asked about you was worse than thinking he’s moved on because, selfishly, if he was happy, then it wasn’t all bad. If he was happy, then the harsh truths you drunkenly sputtered in his direction weren’t a cruel thing to do, they weren’t as vile as you remembered them to be. If he was happy, then what you did after wasn’t a complete betrayal.

“I-I never meant to hurt him,” you finally whisper, forcing down the tears that threaten to break. “I never meant to hurt any of you.”

The girls both offer you a smile.

“We know,” Nancy reassures, “That’s why we thought it’d be a good idea to invite you this weekend. What happened three years ago is so minor in terms of the rest of our lives, it’s time we all move past it.”

Nancy, the peacemaker.

“Plus I’m planning a trip to Vegas for my birthday and I need your help with organising,” Robin chips in, her smile shifting into a grin. “You wouldn’t have answered my call, but now there’s no escape.”

Robin, the girl that can always get you to laugh.

The chuckle that escapes your lips is genuine. For a split second, your nerves are eased and you’re transported back to the basement of your childhood home where the three of you spent hours planning your futures while flicking through trashy magazines in accompaniment to old hits blaring through the docking station your dad’s iPod was connected to. 

Back then, turning twenty-one seemed like a distant dream. 

So you proceed to reassure the blonde you are going to get her name on the list of some of the best clubs Vegas has and she squeals, jumping up to squeeze you with excitement, and telling you how Vickie, her girlfriend, was going to lose her shit over this, then she disappears into the kitchen, presumably to call Vickie with the news.

“You just made her day,” Nancy says, smiling kindly.

“I’m glad I could do at least that,” you reply, then add, “I’m happy to be here. Thank you for thinking of me, Nance.”

Whatever Nancy is about to say next is interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel. The engine is shut shortly after your head snaps in the direction of the entryway, a large gulp forming in the back of your throat.

The next few minutes pass at an agonisingly slow pace. You think you hear Nancy call out your name, but your focus is on the door alone, waiting for it to open, waiting for him to come inside. You’re anticipating his reaction to seeing you after all this time, wondering if he’d even acknowledge your presence or skip straight to the kitchen with the acquired groceries.

From a recent post on Instagram, you know what he looks like. Really good, if anybody asked. You were careful not to like it despite your finger hovering over the image for a few seconds too long. Then you were careful not to like any other picture as you scrolled through his profile until you reached the very end: a post of the two of you at a Halloween party your junior year, the night you finally talked him into creating an account. 

Thanks to the light stalking, you also know him and Chrissy broke up a few weeks ago. He seemingly deleted any trace of the preppy blonde from his profile, she did the same with him, and you couldn’t deny the stinge of satisfaction that cursed through your veins upon that revelation.

When the doorknob rattles, you hop on your feet.

There’s no going back now. You prepared yourself for this moment ever since you accepted Nancy’s invitation. Time to face the music.

Jonathan walks in first. He greets Nancy with a kiss before offloading the twelve-pack of beers onto the floor and turning his attention to you. His smile is big and you’re feeling a little less nervous when he pulls you into a silent hug. When he pulls back, he pats you on the shoulder, then picks up the box he’s after placing on the floor and walks in the direction of the kitchen.

The guy that introduces himself as Argyle is next. Heavy lidded, he’s holding an open bag of Doritos and jokes about how he’d also give you a hug but he doesn’t trust himself with the orange residue on his fingers.

“White t-shirts are the devil, man,” he draws out the last syllable and flops onto the couch next to Nancy, offering her a corn triangle. When she politely declines, he just shrugs and throws it in the air, only to not catch it with his mouth, the piece falling onto the wooden floor.

With your gaze now focused on the chip, a single step away from you, Nancy scolds Argyle to not do that again. In the midst of this small ordeal, you don’t hear your name being said. Only when a white Nike sneaker appears in your field of vision, stepping on the Dorito and smashing it to pieces, you look up at the person addressing you.

Steve’s expression is full of emotion, but he doesn’t move from the spot he’s found himself in. He doesn’t attempt to hug you or reach out for you like the others did, only staring into your eyes as if he was mesmerised by the fact you were actually here.

“Shit– I mean…”

“Yeah…”

That’s all that you can say right now because it’s not yet the time to address what also went down between the two of you at the infamous party. Steve seems to be on the same page as you, opting instead to finally take that step forward and hesitantly wrap his strong arms around your frame.

The hug is awkward at first, but when you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck as if no time has passed, exhaling softly when your hands make home on his back, the boy relaxes and his grip on you tightens ever so slightly. He whispers, “I missed you, sweetheart.”, into your ear and you instantly return the sentiment because it’s true, you missed him terribly. More than you cared to admit to yourself before this very moment.

For a few seconds, you forget where you are. Inhaling the scent of Steve’s aftershave and revelling in the way his arms perfectly folded around you, making you feel safe. For a few seconds, you feel at peace. For a few simple seconds, you forget about the person you’re still to see. The person that most likely wouldn’t be as open to seeing you again, especially now that you were in Steve’s arms.

The door shuts with a tame bang, a distinctive sound of runners tapping against the wooden floor, Nancy says your name as Robin calls out for Steve, you think you hear Argyle murmuring “Ohhh shit, dude”, then someone clears their throat and you finally open your eyes, which seemingly have closed moments prior.

Your throat dries.

There, leaning against the archway with his hands hidden in the pockets of his dark denim jeans is the boy who was once your friend, if not more.

Unlike Steve, Eddie stares at you with a blank look in his eyes, devoid of any real emotion. The emptiness behind the mahogany sends a shiver down your spine and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the position he has once again found you in.

Freeing yourself from Steve’s grasp, you hold your arms close to your chest for protection. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, before motioning for Argyle to follow him out of the room, where Nancy and the rest of the group just disappeared — leaving you alone with Eddie.

Neither of you says anything for what feels like an eternity.

You’re afraid to blink, just in case he disappears during the brief second your eyes close. Truthfully, he has every right to do so. Rush upstairs and slam his bedroom door shut as you remain right where he left you, forever haunted by the choices you made three years ago.

No, no. 

There’s a reason you came and that’s to say you’re sorry.

Before you get a chance to break the silence, Eddie scoffs under his breath, dipping his head while running a hand through his brown locks. His hand remains at the back of his neck when he looks up at you again, a stupid smirk now plastered across his face.

“So, you and Harrington seem close as ever.”

Not the first words you expected to come out of his mouth, but given the situation he’s just encountered, they’re not surprising.

You nervously clear your throat, hugging yourself tighter.

“Uhm… No, we were just—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, his words cold yet the tone of his voice deceives him just a little. Also, if he actually didn’t care, then why make a sly comment in the first place?

But you don’t get to point that out, firstly ‘cause you’re still building up the courage to speak, and secondly because he’s quicker to continue with making his opinion known.

“Obviously you’ve always done whatever the fuck you wanted. Whoever you wanted.”

Ouch.

“Eddie, I-I…” you sigh quietly,  “We were just hugging. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Eddie scoffs. “Cute.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t be condescending.” You shake your head. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“‘Cause I missed all of you, plus Nancy invited me and I-I wanted to take this trip to apologise. Explain myself.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“Well as far as I’m concerned, you can keep your apology,” he states sternly, standing up straight and taking a step in your direction. “Clearly the rest of them are right back to licking your ass, just like they did in high school. Entertaining your shitty behaviour, but I’m not interested.”

His words hurt. It feels like tiny nails are being hammered into your heart and you’re helpless to stop it.

“I don’t care for you and I don’t want to be around you. Since we’re stuck here, just refrain from jumping on Harrington at every chance you get. It’s fucking desperate behaviour.”

Tears burn down your cheeks slowly. They blur your vision and make you look like a giant fucking fool, even bigger than you already are. Eddie doesn’t owe you anything, you know that. Yet here you stand, silently crying over his animosity.

Nancy's words ring in your ears, “he asks about you, he asks if you’re happy.”. What a load of bullshit. He clearly doesn’t give a shit.

“I’ll make sure to stay out of your way then,” is all you manage to blurt out, wiping the wet droplets with the back of your hand.

Pushing past him, making a point to shove his shoulder with a little force, you hurry upstairs and into the confines of your bedroom. You make sure not to let the door shut with a bang, steering away from the dramatics Eddie undoubtedly wanted to provoke. Yes, he hurt your feelings, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him ruin this weeknd for you and the rest of your mutual friends.

His reaction didn’t surprise you. In fact, you expected it. 

That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to digest.

Taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you check your phone and begin to open unseen notifications from various social media sites in an attempt to think about anything else than Eddie’s words.

“Deseperate fucking behaviour,” he’s said that to you before. The deja-vu hits harder than anticipated, making the nausea you thought you surpassed earlier spring right back up, stronger.

Yup. As you regain control of your breathing, you think for sure that coming here was definitely a mistake.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

AUTHOR UPDATE: SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

[rosenclaws]

Alright Rose, can I ask for my own Logan head cannon?

How each Logan would act to the news that you’re pregnant and when they meet your baby for the first time.

hi Lub!! I got this as an anon ask too so I'll combine them into these headcanons

Origins Logan -

Oh man he'd need to sit the fuck down for a second. He'd be worried first and happy second. Don't get me wrong he's not going to leave or anything but Logan has lived a very long life up to this point, about 100 years or more. I think this is the case for most Logan's but the first thing his mind goes to is his mutation. Will he pass it on? He knows what it's like to live with a mutation. How hard it can be. So he's scared. Plus the threat of stryker looms over his head. He'd do anything to protect you and his now unborn child. He's there every step of the way but the worries never leave his mind.

The protectiveness gets ramped up to 11 once your child is actually born. Oh man he's just melting. Holding them in his arms and watching for a long time. You're fast asleep and it's just him and his baby. He doesn't really speak, literally just watching your baby breathe. He makes a promise to himself that he won't let anything happen. Ever.

(Oh man side note this reminds me of a fic idea I had where Logan goes with Stryker and leaves the you and his child to protect you with every intention of coming back just to lose his memories and disappear for 15 years only to regain them and then search for you guys.)

Trilogy Logan -

He thinks you're joking at first. Cracking a smile and telling you that you really got him. Then he sees your face and he realizes you aren't joking and things become serious real quick. Look I know Logan is great with kids and he won’t admit it but I don’t know if ever wants his own because he is unsure if he wants to bring a possible mutant child into a world that hates your kind. He hugs you and maybe a cracks a joke but deep down he’s afraid.

Its late into the night. You’re fast asleep and he’s sitting outside nursing a root beer. He hears footsteps and thinks that they’re yours but then he catches a whiff of a different scent. It’s Marie. He doesnt do heart to hearts but he spills some of what’s going on. I think that Marie would be the best person to reassure him. I mean she was a kid when he found her and whether or not he wants to admit it he was there for her. Made her feels safe.

The day he actually gets to hold his child is where all those fears melt away and get replaced by new ones. Like what happens if his kid gets hurt or what if he accidentally drops them? What if he fucks up? Oh man its terrifying but he can’t help but smile when he hears the little baby noises his kid is making. He also shows them off like crazy. Smirking as he brags about them to anyone who would listen.

DOFP Logan -

Now just like trilogy logan he thinks you’re joking. His reaction is a little different. He’s hesitant to bring a child into the world but I think he’d be a little more open to it. He never dreamed about being a dad but shit it happened and well, he’s getting older and he doesn’t hate the idea lf raising a child with you. He jokes that the best case is your kid gets 99% of you and 1% of him. That 1% being his shining personality of course. A part of him hopes that your kid isn’t a mutant. He doesn’t know how the whole x gene thing works but keeping his kid out of this world is better even if things aren't as bad as he remembers.

He’s so protective when your kid is born. Oh my good luck to those doctors who try to get within 5 feet of his kid or you. He says he’s a new dad but his students would beg to differ. He’s got years of practice under his belt now. He holds them close and promises to be there for the rest of their fucking life. You don’t appreciate the swearing but still.

Old Man Logan -

I think he has the worst reaction of all of them. By worse I mean he just doesn’t react well. He’s not happy and celebrating as much as you wanted him to be. Realistically you knew it was going to be a tough announcement. I mean Logan isn’t built to be a dad and with Laura. He’s overwhelmed trying to make ends meet now. He’s not a good father. At least thats what he thinks. Laura would beg to differ. He has a temper and he’s drunk and gets mean but he she feels safe and protected by him. He saved her. You both did. Logan is terrified of this big change because things are fine so why add something that had the potential to disrupt everything? And man did your new baby disrupt everything. But not in a bad way. Logan is a fucking mess the whole time. He panics every other day about this and you tell him to knock it off because if anyone should be panicking it's you. To which he says fuck no that could hurt the baby (he read it in some parenting magazine he might have stole from a gas station). Theres a natural instinct to protect deep in him and when your baby is born his whole world just shatters. This small innocent little. thing. It’s his child. He has two kids. He has a family. I think he cries. Not when anyone can see or hear him. But he sheds a few tears. Wondering what he could have done to deserve this. If his sins have finally been repaid. His old grinch heart grew three sizes, just enough to fit you, Laura, and his new baby in there.

Worst Logan -

He reacts a lot like Old man logan. Fear that turns to anger. I wrote something like this but the idea of having his own child is fucking terrifying. He believes that he was never meant for the family life. Even with Laura, that was the other him. He and Laura get along but this is a whole other thing. This is a newborn baby. A child that he will look after and take care of for the rest of his life.

I think his instincts kick in and he runs. Not for long. He doesn’t actually go far. Just down stairs to Laura’s apartment. She chews him out for leaving you alone and threatens to stick her claws into him and drag him back upstairs. But she does understand. Just a little. Logan spills his insecurity and to his bewilderment she just agrees. “Yeah you are old and you are mean and you drink way too fucking much” she would tell him. But she tells him that hes an idiot to think he won’t be good for this. If he’s waiting for the day he’s the perfect father then he’s going to be waiting forever. Logan is far from perfect but deep down, he’s a good man. A man who has a second chance laid in front of him on a silver platter. So fucking take it.

The day his baby is born is when he just. It feels like everything clicks. Its funny really, watching him hold her for the first time. He keeps looking back at you to make sure he’s not doing anything wrong. She cries and Logan feels this gut punch. A horrible twisting just knowing his baby is upset. As you sleep he holds her. Whispering promises of being the man you both deserve.

[into-fiction]

gelphie - time travel (w/ a twist)

for @c-rose2081

///

The first thing Glinda tries to do is run. She stumbles hard, tripping over too-small feet and too-short legs, crying out in a high-pitched voice when she’s sent careening to the ground. 

“Galinda!” a voice calls, worried and sharp, as gentle hands lift her under her armpits. The world blurs and spins, her chest heaving with panic and disorientation as she realizes, quite suddenly, that something has gone very very wrong. 

Glinda bursts into tears. 

They’re ugly and loud and uncontrollable. She’s horrified by her own emotions, overwhelmed by her inability to stop the torrent. Someone pulls her into their arms, a comforting hold gripping her and rubbing her back as she buries her nose in a familiar scent. 

Momsie. It’s been ages since Glinda was little enough to be held like this. Something has gone very very very wrong. 

“I-I-I need--” But Glinda can’t get her mouth to work, can’t get the words to come. She can’t explain the swirling mess of memories that linger like a bad dream at the forefront of her thoughts. 

Elphie, she thinks, over and over and over. I need Elphie. 

It takes her a while to settle down, long enough that her mother’s grip grows a little too tight and her voice pinches with impatience.

The second thing Glinda tries to do is look in a mirror. 

A ghost stares back at her. A face she hasn’t seen in decades. Glinda’s wide brown eyes rove over her diminutive form, her tongue licking into the gap left by her missing teeth as she tries to stop the panic from taking over again. 

This was not the plan. 

Being back in the body of a child is a new form of torture, one that even Morrible wouldn’t have been evil enough to think up. Glinda’s brain fights hard to process her grown-up thoughts, but her mind is scattered and full of holes, too young to understand the weight of her own feelings. Her chest clenches in anxiety, one of the few things she does remember from this age. 

On that first day, she stumbles to her desk and fills every inch of scrap paper she can find with the childish scribbles of anything she thinks may be important. More than half of it just ends up being green. 

No amount of begging will convince her parents to send her to Munchkinland. They have no idea why she wants to do something so outlandish, and Glinda is entirely unable to explain it to them.

She wakes each night shaking from nightmares her baby brain wants only to repress, her memories smothered in a layer of smoky haze that makes it impossible to remember what is real. 

“Elphie,” Glinda whispers to herself. It’s the one thing she knows she’ll never forget. Green skin and dark hair and a gentle, lovely voice. The loathing and loving and grieving and pain. How could she ever forget something like that?

So the third thing Glinda tries is to run away. 

If her parents won’t take her to Munchkinland, then she’ll find a way there herself. She’ll get to Elphie before anyone else. Before Morrible, before the Wizard, before Fiyero. She’ll make Elphie her friend, and she’ll cross her fingers and wish on stars and hope that she can change things. 

She makes it as far as the end of her driveway. Her nanny comes hustling out after her, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her back to the house.

“What were you thinking?” she gets asked, and Glinda can’t tell them- she can’t, she can’t, she can’t. Her nanny tells Popsicle, who tells Momsie, who takes Glinda into the study that night to remind her of the rules. 

But Glinda doesn’t let it dissuade her. 

She tries again and again, over and over and over, a determination within her that she barely knows the origin of. She sneaks off from school, she escapes from her nanny, she climbs down her window at night. She makes it as far as the train one time, but they won’t let her board without a ticket, and she’s too young to buy one herself. 

At some point, she gives in to the temptation to just walk, setting off down the dirty, dusty road in nothing but her brunch dress and baby heels. She’s too hot and too tired and too sweaty by the time she makes it very far, though, a childish whine building in her throat as she wonders under her breath if it’s really that important. 

After all- Elphie can wait, right? Munchkinland is just so far, and Glinda is so tired, and she’s been wracking her brain all morning, but for the life of her, she can’t remember what’s so important about Elphie that she needs to see her right now. 

She misses her, of course. But Glinda misses lots of things, like her toys and her bed. 

“Galinda, look at your dress!” her momsie exclaims, and after a few hours of lecture and scolding and a stinging behind, Galinda scrubs tears from her eyes and figures maybe running away isn’t really worth all this trouble. She’ll try again, of course, she needs to…but maybe she’ll wait a while. 

A few days. A few weeks. A few months. 

Galinda gets caught up in school and lessons and parties. She gets dragged along to etiquette classes that bat her hands away from the history books she reaches for. She gets totted along to banquets and balls where the well-dressed Gillikenese nobles don’t want to hear anything about Munchkinland. She gets reprimanded anytime her fingers start to itch for paint or pen or charcoal, and she starts to wonder what’s so special about the color green, anyway?

It’s not a very flattering color, after all. Galinda knows it’s the color of the Emerald City, but she’s always been more partial to pink, herself. And Galinda doesn’t think pink goes very nicely with green.

Time slides past, her memories blurring and warping until it takes all her effort to even remember how old she is. Sometimes the answer on the tip of her tongue can’t possibly be right, and Galinda sits in her own confusion for a moment because it feels oddly like she’s forgetting something. 

Like she’s missing something. 

She keeps having these thoughts, these flashes, these dreams. Bits and pieces of things that can’t be real. Flying monkeys? Floating bubbles? She doesn’t understand, and the more confused she gets, the more she wants it all to just go away. 

Galinda does her best to fit in, to keep up, to make her parents proud. She learns to smile brighter and talk more and make friends. She learns how to dress and how to put on makeup and how to do her hair. She excels at everything she’s asked to do, praised endlessly for her maturity, her grace, her intelligence. 

Her teachers call her an ‘old soul’ and she beams at them and tries not to listen to the tiny voice in the back of her head telling her this is all wrong. 

Wrong, wrong, something is wrong. 

Galinda doesn’t know what it could be. Her life is perfect…isn't it?

Late at night, when her parents aren’t watching and the nightmares creep too close for comfort, Galinda sits at her desk and sketches aimless doodles into endless amounts of paper. The gentle curve of a pair of glasses, the pristine edge of a rose. She doesn’t know what they mean, but she knows that they are important. 

There’s a name buried deep in her thoughts, but Galinda can’t quite string the right letters together to give it shape.

“Elphaba?” her nanny says one day. “Galinda, do you have a friend named Elphaba? There’s a letter here for you.”

She holds a small, dirty letter out to Galinda, the edges rough like it’s been through a lot just to arrive at Galinda’s door. She takes it in her hands and tears it open, frowning hard at the messy writing she finds inside. 

“Do you know her?” her nanny asks. 

Galinda swallows hard, her mind tumbling between the faces of her school friends and the strange visions she sees late at night. She shakes her head, but it feels like the wrong answer. 

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “I can’t remember.”

[amethystarachnid]

Tony stark on his full dad/husband mode protecting his family??? This is too much for me, my ovaries are gone... part 2, I'm begging

PAPARAZZI - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance and angst

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Tony decide it's time to try for another kid, but your two kids get in the way, and as if they are not enough, no matter how much you two try, having the third kid isn't as easy as you thought

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes, nothing too explicit, reader and Tony have troubles conceiving the third kid, so fertility issues

ᯓ★ not related to paparazzi stuff but wanted to write something soft, but I'm not me if I dont add some angst so here we are

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Three Years later

The house is silent. Too silent.

For the first time in years, there are no tiny feet pattering across the floor, no shrieks of laughter (or mischief), no whining or demands for snacks. Just silence. And it’s driving you insane.

Howard started kindergarten a week ago, and while his words aren’t always clear, he’s enthusiastic about telling you everything that happens—whether you understand him or not. Luna, now in her first year of elementary school, has already made a bunch of friends and adjusted well to her routine. She loves school, loves learning, and comes home every day excited to tell you about her day.

It’s great. It’s exactly what you wanted for them. And yet…

You’re pacing the kitchen, sipping on coffee that’s actually hot for once, but it doesn’t feel as satisfying as you expected.

The silence is making you restless.

You used to long for moments of peace, just one second to breathe, but now that you have it, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You miss the chaos, the background noise of little voices filling every corner of your life.

And then it hits you.

You want another baby.

The realization makes your breath catch. You set your coffee down and blink at the empty house as if it just spoke to you.

Another baby.

Not just a vague, one day thought. Not an if we feel like it later idea. A now thought. A right now, I need this thought.

Tony strolls into the kitchen, yawning, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He stretches, groaning as he scratches his stomach, clearly enjoying the rare quiet morning.

“Y’know,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee, “I used to dream of a peaceful morning where no one was screaming or throwing things at my head. Now? I hate it.”

You smile, watching him take a slow sip, his face scrunching up slightly like he’s trying to savor the moment but failing miserably.

“Too quiet?” you ask.

He huffs. “Way too quiet. Kinda eerie. Like, where’s the background soundtrack of my life? Where’s Howard yelling I do it! while struggling to put his shoes on the wrong feet? Where’s Luna demanding my presence for a very important tea party with her stuffed animals?”

You smirk. “Missing the chaos already?”

Tony sighs dramatically, setting his mug down. “I hate to admit it, but yeah.”

You chew your bottom lip, heart pounding slightly as you look at him. You don’t know why you’re suddenly nervous. It’s Tony. He’s been the most loving and devoted father, always ready to go to war for his kids. You know he wants this life just as much as you do.

Still, you take a breath before saying, “So… what if we made it a little less quiet?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What, you wanna get a dog?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not a dog.”

He squints, confused, before realization dawns. His expression shifts from sleepy confusion to wide-eyed surprise, then something softer, something thrilled.

“Wait… you mean—”

You nod, swallowing a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

His face breaks into a slow, almost mischievous grin. “Are you serious? You want another one?”

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling warm all over. “I miss it. The baby phase, the cuddles, the tiny fingers, and the giggles. I miss—”

Tony doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against him. His lips crash onto yours, and you giggle into the kiss as he lifts you slightly off the ground, his excitement radiating through his touch.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw. “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

You laugh against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell yes,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes gleaming. “I’ve been dying to bring it up, but I didn’t want to pressure you. Figured I’d let you enjoy the peace before suggesting we destroy it all over again.”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Guess we’re on the same page.”

Tony smirks. “Oh, absolutely.”

Then he lifts you up completely, setting you on the kitchen counter and stepping between your legs. His hands trail down your sides, his voice dropping into that teasing, irresistible tone. “So… when do we start working on this ‘less quiet’ house of ours?”

You bite your lip, pretending to think. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe we should—”

Tony groans dramatically, tossing his head back. “No ‘maybe,’ woman! Now.”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head as he leans in, kissing you again, his hands warm against your waist.

And just like that, the Stark household is about to get a whole lot louder again.

The first attempt is a disaster.

Tony, of course, is convinced that nighttime is the perfect time to make another Stark baby. "It's classic, it's romantic, it's tradition," he argues as he trails kisses down your neck, his hands already sliding beneath your shirt.

You hum, pretending to consider. "Mm, yes, except for one small issue."

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Howard wakes up every two hours. And Luna has developed a special skill of sneaking into our room like a tiny, jealous ninja."

Tony pulls back, frowning like you've just personally offended him. "So, what, we schedule baby-making now? That’s, like, the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard."

You pat his chest. "Welcome to parenthood."

And sure enough, just as Tony’s lips return to your skin, a loud thud echoes from the hallway.

Both of you freeze.

Then, in a tiny, sleepy voice: “Mommy?”

Tony groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “I swear she’s got a sixth sense. We didn’t even start yet.”

You sigh, pulling your shirt back down before heading toward the door. Sure enough, Luna stands there, rubbing her eyes, her messy curls covering half her face. "Bad dweam," she mumbles, reaching up for you.

Tony collapses onto the bed dramatically. "Of course."

You scoop Luna into your arms, kissing her forehead. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you back to bed."

Behind you, Tony mutters, "Cockblocked by a three-year-old."

The second attempt is somehow worse.

It's midday, the house is empty, and for once, Tony actually agrees that daytime might be the safer bet. He practically throws you onto the bed, grinning. "Finally. No tiny humans, no distractions, just us—"

The sound of the front door slamming open interrupts him.

Both of you jolt up in panic.

Then, from downstairs: "HELLO? I’M HOME EARLY!"

Tony's head drops onto your stomach with a loud groan. "Are you kidding me?!"

Luna. Home. Early.

You scramble to grab clothes, shoving Tony off as he sits up, looking personally offended by the universe. “How the hell is she back already? School just started.”

You barely manage to pull a sweatshirt over your head before Luna barges in, holding up a piece of paper. “Mommy! Daddy! Look! My dwawing!”

Tony flops backward onto the bed, defeated. You try to smile as you take Luna’s paper—some vague scribbles that may or may not be your family. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

Luna beams. "I gots a gold staw!"

Tony lifts his head slightly. "Kid, that's amazing. Now, uh, what are you doing home?"

Luna shrugs. "Miss Thompson sick. No school."

Tony groans, throwing a pillow over his face. "Of course."

The third attempt? Let’s just say, never underestimate Howard.

After a few more failed nighttime attempts, you and Tony decide that lunchtime might be the safest bet. You put Howard down for his nap, double-check that Luna is actually at school this time, and rush to the bedroom.

Tony grins. "You realize we’re literally scheduling this?"

You push him onto the bed, smirking. "Do you want another baby or not?"

He holds up his hands in surrender. "I love this plan. Proceed."

And for a moment, everything is perfect.

Until Howard wakes up.

And by wakes up, you mean screams bloody murder through the baby monitor.

Tony groans so loudly you’re afraid the neighbors will hear. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

You scramble off the bed, throwing on Tony’s shirt while he yells, “He was asleep five minutes! Five! What kind of scam is this?!”

By the time you get to the nursery, Howard is standing in his crib, arms up, sniffling dramatically like he’s been personally betrayed.

You sigh, picking him up. "What's wrong, baby?"

Howard sniffles again. "Hun’gy."

Tony appears in the doorway, hair still messy, eyes dead inside. "Howard. My guy. My favorite tiny human." He sighs. "You just ate."

Howard wipes his nose on your shoulder and claps his chubby hands. "Pasta."

Tony stares at him. Then at you. Then back at him.

"Unbelievable," Tony mutters, turning around. "I give up."

By the time Howard is fed and back down for his nap, Tony flops onto the couch, arms over his face. “This is impossible. We should just give up.”

You lean over him, smirking. "So you don’t want another baby anymore?"

He glares at you. "That is not what I said."

You press a kiss to his jaw. "Then stop whining and try harder, Stark."

Tony’s eyes glint with a challenge. "Oh, sweetheart, you know I don’t back down from a challenge."

It takes a full week before the planets finally align.

Luna is at school. Howard is deeply asleep. And, miraculously, no one decides to come home early.

Tony smirks as he pushes you against the bedroom door. "Quick. Before the universe screws us over again."

You laugh, tugging him toward the bed. "You’re ridiculous."

But just as you pull him onto you—

BANG.

"GUESS WHO FINISHED SCHOOL EARLY AGAIN?!"

Tony screams into the pillow.

---

A sleepover at Uncle Steve’s.

It’s the perfect plan.

Luna and Howard adore Steve. He’s one of the only people they listen to, and unlike Tony, Steve somehow has the patience of a saint when it comes to dealing with two energetic Stark children. So when you and Tony realize that the only way to get some uninterrupted time together is to physically remove the kids from the house, Steve is the obvious choice.

At first, Tony hesitates. "Barnes lives there, too. I don’t trust that guy."

You roll your eyes. "Bucky is great with them, and you know it. Besides, you just don’t like that Howard calls him ‘Unca Bucky’ like he’s some kind of rockstar."

Tony scoffs. "I am the rockstar of this family, thank you very much."

Still, the second you ask, Steve is more than happy to help. “Of course,” he says, sounding amused. “Not getting enough alone time, Stark?”

Tony glares. "Mind your business, Rogers."

Luna and Howard are thrilled when they find out they’re having a sleepover. Luna packs four different bags, including one filled with toys that she insists are "essentials." Howard claps his hands and yells, “PIZZA PARTY!” as if he’s already planned the entire evening.

Tony kneels in front of them as Steve waits by the door. "Okay, listen up, rugrats. I don’t want any funny business while you’re gone. No giving Uncle Steve a hard time, no stealing Bucky’s metal arm—Luna, I’m looking at you—and for the love of God, do not trick Howard into eating peanut butter again."

Luna giggles. "Unca Bucky say it make Howard stwonger."

Tony groans, rubbing his temples. "I hate that guy."

Howard clings to Steve’s leg. "Unca Steve big. Like teddy bear."

Steve smiles, picking him up easily. "And you’re as heavy as one, buddy."

Once the kids are finally out the door, Tony turns to you with a mischievous grin. "Wife. Bedroom. Now."

You laugh as he lifts you over his shoulder and all but sprints toward the bedroom.

For the first time in years, you and Tony actually get some uninterrupted time together. No tiny footsteps running down the hallway, no baby monitor crackling to life, no sudden knocks on the door. Just the two of you, finally lost in each other.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Tony kisses your shoulder. "I still got it."

You snort. "Did you ever lose it?"

"Never, sweetheart." He grins against your skin. "We should’ve done this months ago."

You smirk. "I told you we needed a sleepover."

Eventually, you both make your way to the shower, because Tony Stark does not sleep in post-sex sweat. His words, not yours.

Wrapped in warm steam, you press against him, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in forever. "This was a great idea."

Tony hums in agreement, running soapy hands down your back. "We should do this every week."

Your bliss lasts exactly three minutes before Tony’s phone rings.

You both freeze.

Then, again.

Tony groans, leaning his head against the tile. "No. Nope. Not answering."

You sigh, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. "It might be important."

Tony grumbles something about not caring unless the world is ending, but when he sees the caller ID, he winces. "It’s Rogers."

Your stomach sinks. "Oh God. What if something happened?"

Tony swipes to answer. "This better be good, Cap."

Steve’s voice comes through, apologetic. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but—Howard won’t stop crying. He’s been asking for you guys for the past hour."

You press a hand to your forehead. "Oh, buddy…"

Tony exhales slowly. "So let me get this straight. You’re Captain Freaking America. You took down HYDRA, stopped an alien invasion, and yet one tiny Stark has you waving the white flag?"

"Tony."

Tony grins. "Just saying. Didn’t take you for a quitter, Rogers."

Steve sighs. "Can you guys just come pick him up? I think he just misses you."

You don’t even hesitate. "We’re on our way."

Tony, meanwhile, groans like a man facing his own execution. "Are you kidding me? We just got the house to ourselves! I was gonna make you pancakes naked, babe!"

You laugh, tossing him his clothes. "Come on, genius. Time to get our kid."

When you arrive at Steve’s place, Howard is curled up on the couch, still sniffling, while Luna is completely unbothered, munching on popcorn and watching cartoons.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Howard’s face lights up when he sees you, reaching out instantly.

You pick him up, kissing his chubby cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart, did you miss us that much?"

Howard nods, clutching your shirt. "No like sweepovew. Wanna be home."

Steve gives you an apologetic smile. "He tried, I promise. But after a while, he just kept asking for you guys."

Tony runs a hand through his hair. "Well, there goes that plan."

Luna, still chewing popcorn, looks up. "I stay."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Oh, so you’re fine abandoning us, but your brother—"

Luna shrugs. "Me big giwl."

Steve chuckles. "She’s been having a great time."

Howard snuggles closer to you. "Wanna go home."

Tony sighs, finally reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair. "Alright, kiddo. Let’s get you home."

On the drive back, Howard falls asleep in his car seat almost immediately.

Tony looks over at you, sighing dramatically. "Welp. Back to square one."

You smirk. "Don’t worry, Stark. I have other ideas."

Tony grins. "See, this is why I married you."

---

You and Tony try. And try. And try.

It starts out fun, full of teasing and laughter, sneaking around while the kids are at school, whispering about how finallyyou can do this without fear of tiny footsteps interrupting. But as the months pass and every test comes back negative, the excitement slowly fades into frustration.

You try to stay optimistic. Tony does too. Every time you take a test, he kisses your forehead and tells you, “No rush, sweetheart. We’ll get there.” But each single pink line feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

At first, you tell yourself it’s fine. You already have two beautiful, chaotic kids. But this time, it feels different. You want this. You know Tony does too, even if he pretends to be nonchalant about it.

The first few negatives don’t hurt too much. It’s still early. But as months pass with no sign of a second line, it starts to get to you.

One night, you sit in the bathroom, staring at yet another negative test, feeling the sting behind your eyes. You don’t want to be this upset about it, but you can’t help it.

Tony knocks on the door. “Sweetheart?”

You sniffle, quickly wiping your eyes. “Yeah?”

There’s a pause. Then, his voice softens. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate, but eventually open the door. Tony takes one look at your face, then at the test in your hand, and sighs. He pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

You clutch onto his shirt. “I just don’t get it. It happened so fast with Luna and Howard…”

Tony rubs your back, letting out a deep breath. “I know, baby. But we’re gonna be okay. No matter what.”

He always says the right things. But as the days pass, it becomes harder to keep up the act—especially around the kids.

Luna notices first. One morning, while eating her cereal, she frowns at you. “Mommy sad.”

Tony, sitting across from her with his coffee, freezes. He looks at you, waiting for your reaction.

You force a smile. “No, baby, I’m okay.”

Luna shakes her head, poking her cereal with her spoon. “No. Mommy sad.” She turns to Tony. “Daddy fix.”

Tony sets his mug down and leans in. “Oh, honey. Mommy’s okay, promise.”

Luna isn’t convinced. She looks at you with those big Stark eyes—sharp, observant, just like her father’s. “You cry.”

Your heart clenches.

Tony clears his throat. “Mommy’s just a little tired, bug. Maybe she needs extra cuddles.”

Luna gasps. “Cuddles make eveything better!” She slides off her chair, hurrying over to wrap her tiny arms around you.

You hug her tightly, pressing a kiss to her soft curls. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Howard, who has been silently chewing his toast, tilts his head. “Mommy need huggies?”

Luna nods very seriously. “Yes, Howie. Mommy need big, big huggies.”

Howard carefully slides off his chair and waddles over, joining the hug. He pats your face with his chubby hands. “Mommy no be sad. I gib kisses.”

Your eyes water as he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Tony watches from his seat, and when you glance at him, he’s already softening. He gets up, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re pretty lucky, sweetheart. Got the best support team right here.”

You nod, hugging your kids tighter. “Yeah. I really do.”

That night, as you and Tony lie in bed, he turns to you. “So, how are we feeling? Still up for trying?”

You hesitate before sighing. “I don’t know, Tony. Maybe we should go see a doctor.”

He nods, thinking for a moment. “Okay.”

You exhale, relieved. “Thank you.”

Tony pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Anytime, baby.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep feeling just a little lighter.

---

You and Tony sit in the doctor’s office, your fingers tangled together as you wait for answers.

It had taken a while to get to this point. After months of trying, after so many negative tests, you finally admitted to Tony that maybe—just maybe—it was time to see if something was wrong. He hadn’t pushed you, hadn’t made any snarky comments (well, not many), and had instead simply said, “Whatever you need, sweetheart. We’ll figure this out.”

So here you are.

Tony taps his foot impatiently, glancing around the room. “You know, for a place that’s supposed to deal with reproductive health, they could at least try to make it less terrifying.”

You nudge him. “You’re not even the one getting examined.”

“Yeah, but I am the one sitting next to my very anxious, very hormonal wife, so technically, I’m suffering too.”

You roll your eyes, but his dramatics do make you feel slightly better.

The door opens, and Dr. Matthews, a kind-looking woman in her fifties, steps in with a warm smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Stark,” she greets, sitting across from you. “I have your test results.”

Tony grips your hand a little tighter.

Dr. Matthews looks between the two of you. “First, I want to assure you that there’s nothing wrong with either of you. Your bloodwork, hormone levels, and general reproductive health are all perfectly normal.”

You feel a rush of relief, but also confusion. “Then… why isn’t it happening?”

She smiles gently. “Secondary infertility isn’t uncommon, especially after multiple pregnancies. The body changes, and sometimes conception takes longer than before.”

Tony frowns. “So what’s the plan? We just keep playing the world’s most frustrating waiting game?”

Dr. Matthews chuckles. “Not necessarily. There are steps we can take to improve your chances. Adjusting diet, reducing stress, tracking ovulation—”

Tony groans. “Ugh. Science takes all the fun out of it.”

You pinch his arm. “Tony.”

“What? I don’t want to be told when I have to perform. Takes away the spontaneity, the romance.”

Dr. Matthews raises an amused eyebrow. “I doubt romance will be an issue, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smirks. “You flatter me, doc.”

You groan. “Can we focus?”

Dr. Matthews laughs, then hands you a few papers. “Here’s some information on what you can do to increase your chances. If, after a few more months, there’s still no progress, we can discuss fertility treatments.”

You nod, trying to absorb all of this. Tony, however, just leans back in his chair. “So, basically, we get to keep trying and eat more spinach?”

“Essentially.”

Tony shrugs. “Sweetheart, I see no downside here.”

You sigh, but despite everything, you can’t help but smile at his optimism.

On the way home, you sit in the car, reading through the pamphlets. Tony glances over. “You’re not gonna turn into one of those people, are you?”

“What people?”

“The ones who turn baby-making into a military operation.” He deepens his voice in mock seriousness. “'Tony, we must mate now. The charts have spoken.'”

You snort. “No, I am not going to be that person.” You pause. “But I will be tracking my cycle.”

Tony groans. “So no spontaneous closet quickies?”

You smirk. “Only on fertile days.”

Tony mutters something about how unfair life is, but he’s smiling.

The next few weeks are filled with subtle changes—healthy food, stress reduction, and, of course, timing things properly.

At first, it’s fine. Fun, even. Tony makes a whole thing out of it, setting the mood like you’re in some old Hollywood romance film. He even dims the lights one night and dramatically throws rose petals on the bed.

“What are you doing?” you ask, holding back a laugh.

Tony sprawls across the bed, smirking. “Creating an atmosphere. You’re looking at prime, vintage Tony Stark seduction, sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me.”

Unfortunately, the fun starts to fade when, once again, month after month passes with no results.

One morning, you sit on the bathroom floor, yet another negative test clutched in your hands. You bite your lip, trying so hard not to cry, but the frustration and disappointment build inside you.

Tony finds you there minutes later. He sighs, kneeling in front of you and gently taking the test from your hands.

“No luck, huh?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get it, Tony. Why is this so hard this time?”

He cups your face, tilting it up so you meet his gaze. “Sweetheart, we will get there. We’ve got two perfect little Stark monsters running around already. This is just life throwing another challenge at us.”

You sigh. “I just… I just thought it would’ve happened by now.”

Tony presses a kiss to your forehead. “Me too. But hey, in the meantime, we still get to have a lot of fun trying, right?”

You huff a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

The kids start to notice your change in mood.

Luna watches you carefully one afternoon while coloring at the kitchen table. She tilts her head. “Mommy sad ‘gain?”

Howard, sitting next to her, nods very seriously. “Mommy need huggies?”

Your heart squeezes. “No, baby, Mommy’s okay.”

Luna narrows her eyes. “No. You sad.”

Howard frowns. “Mommy no sad. Mommy happy.” He holds up a crayon drawing—a messy scribble of what is probably supposed to be your family. “See? We happy.”

You smile, hugging both of them. “I love you two so much.”

Luna pats your arm. “It be okay, Mommy.”

Tony, watching from the doorway, clears his throat. “You got the best cheerleaders in the world, sweetheart.”

That night, when you and Tony lie in bed, you exhale deeply. “I think we need to stop stressing.”

Tony nods. “Agreed. Let’s just… let it happen when it happens.”

You turn to him. “You sure?”

He grins. “Oh, I still plan on having lots of sex. I’m just saying we won’t need an Excel spreadsheet to do it.”

You burst out laughing. “God, I love you.”

Tony smirks, pulling you close. “And that, my dear wife, is why I’m irresistible.”

You roll your eyes, but for the first time in a while, you feel hopeful. Maybe—just maybe—it will happen when the time is right.

---

A whole year.

Twelve months of trying, of disappointment, of heartbreak, of reminding yourself not to get your hopes too high. Twelve months of keeping a smile on your face for the sake of Tony and the kids, even when every negative test chipped away at your hope.

And now, here you are.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, hands trembling, staring at a test that—finally, finally—shows two pink lines.

You're pregnant.

For a moment, you just sit there, stunned. Your heart is racing, your breath caught in your throat. You feel like if you move too fast, the moment might disappear, like it's some kind of dream you don't want to wake up from.

Then the reality of it slams into you all at once.

A choked laugh bubbles out of you, followed by a sob, and before you know it, you’re crying—big, happy, relievedtears.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to contain the sheer wave of emotions crashing over you. You did it. You did it.

The moment passes, and then excitement takes over. Tony. You have to tell Tony. But not just tell him—you have to make it special. After all the months of heartache, he deserves a moment to remember.

You wipe your tears, compose yourself, and practically sprint out of the bathroom to find your two little helpers.

Luna is sitting in the living room, coloring, while Howard is on the floor with his toy cars, making little vroom vroomnoises.

You crouch beside them, still buzzing with excitement. “Kids, Mommy has a very special mission for you.”

Luna immediately perks up. “What mission?”

Howard gasps dramatically. “Like superheroes?”

“Even better,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’re going to surprise Daddy.”

Luna’s eyes widen. “Ooooh! I love surprises!”

Howard claps his little hands. “Me too!” Then he pauses, frowning. “Wait… what’s the surprise?”

You grin, placing a hand over your stomach. “Mommy has a baby in her belly.”

Luna gasps so loudly it could break glass. “Another baby?!”

Howard’s little face scrunches up in confusion. “But… where baby? I don’t see it.”

You chuckle. “It’s still very, very tiny. But it’s growing in Mommy’s belly, just like you and Luna did before you were born.”

Howard stares at your stomach with deep suspicion, as if he expects a baby to pop out at any second. “Hmm… I dunno ‘bout that.”

Luna, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with excitement. “We gotta tell Daddy right now!”

You laugh. “That’s the plan. But we have to do it in a fun way, okay?”

Luna nods eagerly. “Okay! What do we do?”

By the time Tony gets home from work, the three of you are ready.

The living room is decorated with balloons—pink and blue, just to keep things interesting. You even managed to find the old baby clothes from when Luna and Howard were newborns, and they’re hanging on a tiny clothesline across the room.

But the best part? Luna and Howard are both wearing custom t-shirts.

Luna’s says, “Big Sister Again!” in glittery letters.

Howard’s says, “I’m Gonna Be a Big Brother (I Think?)” because you couldn’t resist the urge to capture his skepticism.

You hear the front door open, and Tony’s voice carries through the house. “Honey, I’m hoooome! Did you miss me?”

You quickly shush the kids, and they scramble to their positions. Luna practically bounces in place, while Howard looks down at his shirt like it still doesn’t make sense to him.

Tony walks into the living room, looking exhausted but still as effortlessly charming as ever. “Okay, I know it’s bad when I say this, but I think I need more coffee—”

He stops mid-sentence. Blinks. Looks around the room.

Then his eyes land on the kids.

And their shirts.

For a moment, he just stands there, processing. You can see the exact second it clicks. His entire face shifts—his mouth drops open slightly, his eyes widen, and then he looks at you.

You smile, holding up the pregnancy test. “Surprise.”

Tony doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stares.

Luna giggles. “Daddy, you okay?”

That seems to snap him out of it. He blinks rapidly, looking between you, the kids, and the test in your hand. “Is this—? Are you—? Really?”

You nod, tears already welling in your eyes again. “Really.”

For a split second, you think he might actually pass out. Then, suddenly, he’s moving.

He crosses the room in record time, scooping you into his arms and lifting you right off your feet. You laugh as he spins you around, his face buried in your neck.

When he finally puts you down, his eyes are shining—actually shining.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers, like he still can’t believe it.

You nod. “We did it.”

Tony lets out a shaky breath—and then, to your complete shock, he cries.

Real, genuine, happy tears roll down his cheeks.

Luna gasps. “Daddy’s crying!”

Howard’s jaw drops. “Daddy no cry! Daddy Tony Stark!”

Tony laughs through his tears, wiping his face. “Hey, even superheroes cry sometimes.” He looks back at you, cupping your face in his hands. “Sweetheart, this is—this is amazing.”

You grin. “I know.”

He looks down at your stomach and gently places his hand there. “Hey there, little Stark. Took you long enough.”

Luna giggles, hugging his leg. “I’m so excited, Daddy!”

Tony scoops her up with his free arm. “Me too, kiddo.” Then he turns to Howard, who is still studying his shirt suspiciously. “And what about you, Howie? You ready to be a big brother?”

Howard shrugs. “Mmm… maybe.”

Tony snorts. “That’s fair.”

Then he pulls all three of you into a big bear hug, wrapping you in warmth, love, and the undeniable feeling that this—this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

----

The day of the doctor’s appointment arrives, and for once, Tony is not cracking jokes.

He’s been in full-on “concerned husband” mode since you told him about the pregnancy, which—don’t get you wrong—is sweet. But considering this is Tony Stark, the man who once said “relax” while piloting an explosive missile into space, it’s a little intense.

It starts the moment you wake up.

“You should eat first,” Tony says, hovering near the bed as you stretch. “Gotta keep your blood sugar stable.”

You rub your eyes. “Tony, it’s six in the morning.”

“Yeah, and?” He gestures dramatically. “Our baby needs nutrients. I read somewhere that morning sickness is worse if you don’t eat early.”

You squint at him. “Since when do you read pregnancy articles?”

He scoffs. “Please, I’ve read all of them. I could write one myself. ‘How to Not Let Your Pregnant Wife Lift a Finger: A Guide by Tony Stark.’”

You sigh, realizing this is your life now.

By the time the kids are dropped off at school and you’re sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, Tony has already triple-checked that you’re comfortable, that you’re hydrated, and that the chair isn’t too firm for your back.

When the nurse finally calls you in, Tony jumps up like you’re about to receive life-altering surgery.

The doctor—thankfully—has known you both for a while and isn’t fazed by Tony’s theatrics. “Alright, let’s take a look,” she says warmly as you settle on the examination table.

Tony does not blink during the ultrasound. He’s staring at the screen with the intensity of a man watching a bomb countdown.

And then—there it is.

A tiny, flickering heartbeat.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Tony makes a choked sound, gripping your hand tightly. “Holy shit.”

You laugh through your tears. “Yeah.”

The doctor smiles. “Everything looks good so far. Given how long it took to conceive, I’d recommend taking it easy, just as a precaution.”

Tony nods so fast you think he might get whiplash. “Absolutely. No stress, no heavy lifting, no unnecessary movement—”

The doctor chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far. But yes, let’s just be careful.”

Tony nods solemnly, like he’s been given a sacred mission.

You should’ve known he’d take it too seriously.

That night, Luna and Howard are sitting at the dinner table, eating their food happily, when Tony clears his throat dramatically.

“Alright, kids. We need to have a talk.”

Luna perks up. “About what?”

Tony clasps his hands together. “About how we’re not going to stress out Mommy.”

You roll your eyes. “Tony—”

“No, no,” he says, holding up a hand. “Doctor’s orders. We gotta protect you, sweetheart.” He turns to the kids. “That means no making Mommy carry anything heavy, no jumping on her, no waking her up in the middle of the night unless it’s a real emergency—”

Howard gasps. “Like if I see a monster?”

Tony nods. “Only if the monster is confirmed dangerous. Otherwise, report it to me first.”

Luna frowns. “But what if I need help with something?”

Tony gives her a serious look. “Then you come to me.”

Howard scratches his head. “What if I need Mommy?”

Tony hesitates, then sighs. “Okay, fine. But if it’s something I can handle, let me handle it first.”

Luna and Howard nod solemnly, as if accepting a royal decree.

You stare at Tony. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he says.

It doesn’t take long for you to hate this arrangement.

At first, it’s sweet. The kids are careful, trying to be helpful. Luna picks up things for you, Howard doesn’t climb all over you as much.

But then—then—it starts to get ridiculous.

Luna hesitates before asking you to braid her hair, looking guilty as she asks, “Is that too much work, Mommy?”

Howard frowns whenever he wants you to pick him up, even though he loves cuddling with you.

And worst of all?

Tony intercepts everything.

One morning, you go to reach for a cereal box, and suddenly, Tony swoops in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I got it.”

You glare at him. “Tony. It’s a cereal box.”

“Yeah, and it’s above your head. That’s risky.”

You groan. “Tony, I am pregnant, not fragile.”

He smirks. “Same thing.”

That night, Howard almost wakes you up because of a nightmare, but you hear Tony whispering outside the bedroom door.

“Shhh, buddy. Remember the plan. No waking up Mommy unless it’s a real emergency.”

Howard sniffles. “But I had a bad dream.”

“I got you, little dude. I’m the dream-fighting champion.”

There’s a pause, then a tiny whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Now let’s get you back to bed—”

You swing the door open, glaring at Tony. “Give me my son.”

Howard immediately runs to you, snuggling into your arms.

Tony sighs. “Fine. But if you wake up tired tomorrow, I will say ‘I told you so.’”

The breaking point comes a few days later.

Luna walks into the kitchen, shifting nervously on her feet. “Mommy?”

You smile. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

She hesitates. “I… I have a question.”

“Of course, what is it?”

She looks at you, then at Tony, then back at you. “Can I ask you… or should I ask Daddy?”

Your heart drops.

You immediately crouch down. “Luna, sweetie. You can always ask me anything.”

She fidgets. “But Daddy said not to stress you…”

You take her little hands in yours. “Baby, talking to you is never stressful. I love when you come to me.”

She bites her lip. “Really?”

“Really,” you say firmly. “You, Howard, and Daddy are my favorite people in the whole world. Nothing makes me happier than helping you.”

She finally smiles. “Okay… then can you help me with my homework?”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Then you shoot a glare at Tony over her shoulder. Fix this.

Tony sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine. Maybe I slightly overdid it.”

“Slightly?” you deadpan.

Luna giggles. “Daddy’s funny.”

Tony winks. “That’s why she married me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile.

At least now, things will go back to normal—well, as normal as life can be in the Stark household.

---

The rest of the pregnancy is a rollercoaster.

Once the kids realize they don’t have to tiptoe around you anymore, they immediately return to their usual selves.

Luna comes running to you whenever she has a question—about school, about her friends, and most importantly, about the baby.

Howard, on the other hand, just assumes you have all the answers.

“Mommy,” he asks one morning, “how does the baby eat?”

You glance at Tony, who is casually reading something on his tablet. He doesn’t even look up before saying, “Go ahead, sweetheart. Explain placental nutrient transfer to our very curious four-year-old.”

You give him a look before turning to Howard. “Well, I eat food, and then my body sends the baby the good stuff from it.”

Howard gasps. “So when you eat ice cream, the baby eats ice cream too?”

You hesitate. “Um… sort of.”

His eyes go wide. “But what if they don’t like ice cream?”

Tony snorts. “Then they’re not my kid.”

Luna giggles. “That’s silly, Daddy. Everyone likes ice cream.”

Howard, looking very concerned, puts a little hand on your belly. “Baby, if you don’t like ice cream, that’s okay. I’ll eat it for you.”

Tony leans over, whispering, “I love this kid.”

The pregnancy flies by with moments like this—questions, excitement, and a lot of cuddles from the kids.

And then, at the five-month mark, it’s finally time for the gender reveal.

The baby shower is a big deal.

Pepper insists on throwing it, so you know it’s going to be perfect. The decorations are neutral, since you still don’t know the gender yet, but there’s an insane amount of food, presents, and—of course—Tony being Tony.

“So, how do you wanna do the big reveal?” Tony asks, draping an arm around your shoulder. “Explosion? Giant Iron Man hologram? Maybe a—”

“No explosions,” Pepper cuts in.

You sigh. “I just want something simple, Tony.”

He grins. “Alright, alright. Simple. Got it.”

Simple turns out to be a cake.

A normal, completely non-explosive cake.

Inside, the color of the filling will reveal the gender.

When you cut into it, the inside is pink.

“A girl!” Luna shrieks, practically jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew it!”

Howard blinks at the cake. “So… it’s a sister?”

“Yep, buddy,” Tony says, ruffling his hair. “You’re gonna have a little sister.”

Howard takes a moment to process this. “Can I still call them ‘baby’?”

You laugh. “Of course.”

He beams. “Okay.”

Luna, meanwhile, is beyond excited. She grabs your hand. “We have to pick the best name for her.”

Which leads to the next challenge:

Picking a name.

The four of you sit down together that night, brainstorming names.

Luna, determined to take charge, starts listing all the princess names she can think of.

Howard, on the other hand, throws in suggestions like “Captain,” “Rocket,” and “Pancake.”

Tony smirks. “Pancake Stark. That’s a power move.”

You roll your eyes. “We are not naming our daughter Pancake.”

Eventually, you all settle on a shortlist, and one name stands out—Aurora.

Luna loves it because of the princess.

Howard shrugs and says, “It’s okay.”

Tony, who is surprisingly sentimental, points out that Aurora means “dawn” and represents a fresh, new beginning.

And just like that—your daughter has a name.

The final months of pregnancy are rough.

Everything is harder this time—walking, sleeping, even breathing.

And when labor finally starts, it’s way more intense than the last two times.

Something feels different.

The contractions are stronger, and as soon as you get to the hospital, the doctors confirm what you already suspected—this labor isn’t progressing the way it should.

After hours of pain, the doctor finally says what you’ve been dreading:

“We need to do a C-section.”

Your heart plummets.

Tony grips your hand. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod, swallowing hard.

Everything moves fast after that.

Tony stays by your side the entire time, whispering reassurances.

And then—finally—finally—you hear it.

A loud, strong cry.

Your baby girl is here.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tony presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice thick with emotion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

And then they bring her to you—tiny, pink, and absolutely beautiful.

Aurora Stark.

By the time the kids arrive to meet her, you’re feeling exhausted but so full of love.

Luna is practically vibrating with excitement. “Where is she? Where’s my sister?!”

Howard climbs onto Tony’s lap, eyes wide as he looks at the tiny bundle in your arms.

“Is that her?” he whispers.

You nod, smiling. “Come say hi.”

Luna carefully climbs onto the bed next to you, peering down at Aurora.

“She’s so small,” she says in awe.

Howard frowns. “She’s not talking.”

Tony chuckles. “Give her a minute, buddy.”

Howard hesitates, then leans in and pats Aurora’s tiny hand. “Hi, baby. I’m Howard.”

Aurora squirms slightly, making a little noise.

Luna gasps. “She likes him!”

Tony grins. “Of course she does. He’s her big brother.”

Luna presses a gentle kiss to Aurora’s forehead. “I’m gonna teach you everything,” she promises.

Howard nods. “Me too.”

Tony looks at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “I think she’s got the best siblings in the world.”

You smile, feeling completely and utterly whole.

Aurora is finally here.

And your family is perfect.

[zombholic]

CONSUMED PT. 2 — abby anderson

summary — the fame really consumed her.

description — rockstar!abby, poc fem!reader, explicit content, sfw & nsfw, modern au, no post outbreak.

authors note — lets pray i don’t abandon this series, i dont like this chapter but guys i promise it will get better!

It had only been two days in your trip and you couldn’t get her out your head, Abby was consuming your mind, so fucking stupid she probably doesn’t even remember you.

You were trying to get ready, Ellie wanted to go to this club so badly that she was on her knees begging you to come along so she wouldn’t be left alone with Jesse’s insufferable ass, her words.

Sitting down on the toilet seat on this small hotel room you were scrolling through instagram, more specifically Abby’s page.

You felt like you were going to throw up your own heart, how the fucking stars aligned of course she was coming here for her tour the week you were visiting.

“Can you hurry up! I have to shit!” Jesse started banging on the door.

“Shut up!” You quickly turned your phone off and opened the door only to be quickly pushed out by the man who looks like he’s about to shit himself.

Ellie was facing the mirror fixing her hair, she turned around to look at you with a smile on her face.

“How many girl am I gonna pull tonight?” She bit her bottom lip giving you the light skin Justin Bieber face.

“I’m going to punch you in the throat.” You rolled your eyes going over to sit on the bed.

“What’s wrong now?” She sat beside your feet placing her hand on your knee.

“Abby’s coming to Madison Square tomorrow what if i run into her?” Ellie laughed at your stupid question.

“Did you forget that asshole is like an A-list celeb now, there’s no chance you’ll run into her bitchass.” You knew she was right but secretly you wished it would happen.

The club seemed so much more popular than Ellie said, you could spot out influencers left and right. You clung onto Ellie like your life depended on it, mostly because you were known for getting lost easily.

Ellie was sparking up conversations with every girl she saw, Jesse was on the floor dancing his heart out with his drink in hand, you were sat at the bar sipping on your frozen margarita.

“Stop looking all sad and dance with me.” Ellie hands you a shot which you gratefully took.

She grabs your hand and takes you over to Jesse who was definitely drunk by now, all three of you snapped your neck over to the direction of where the commotion started to grow louder by the second.

Jesse being Jesse he ran over the crowd that started to form, you and Ellie chasing him down. Slipping between people you had managed to grab the loop of his jeans.

“Need to get you a damn leash—“ “Y/n?” The voice sounded so familiar but you refused to turn around.

“No, nope, let’s go!” Ellie grabbed your arm along with Jesse’s.

You turned your head to see the commotion that was started by Abby, your eyes meeting each others for just a moment.

Jesse threw himself onto the bed groaning and complaining that his head was hurting, Ellie made him chug a glass of water before sending him to bed like he was her child.

You were still in shock seeing Abby, how is it that the same day you see her post you meet her at the club? Maybe this was a dream and you’ll wake up. Your heart felt like it was going to break once more while it was trying to heal.

“I think I may have jinxed what I said earlier.” Ellie rubbed your back a hint of guilt lingered in her voice.

“I’m just gonna go to bed.” You gave her a tight lipped smile.

Your phone chimed a couple of times, you dried your face off with a towel before grabbing it thinking it was Ellie asking you for something.

[veephoenix]

melodies dripping sin | o.s. x reader

Standalone work | Words: 1.1k | ao3 | Inspired by Oliver's look at the Brit awards.

MELODIES DRIPPING SIN

She knows it’s not her night. It’s his. It’s his band’s. 

But when they get back home and he keeps her from drifting too far, she knows she’s in for a promise to a delightful ending.

He traps her in his arms as soon as the door closes behind them. There’s urgency in his touch. It’s not only the fingers sliding up her bare thigh that ignite her. It’s everything, every part of this man.

His lips are on her neck, on her bare shoulders. He slips one spaghetti strap down and rubs the curve of her cold shoulder, using his fingers to trace the line of her clavicle until his hand is around her neck. 

She moans his name. A prayer.  

Oliver.

She can’t help it. The man is everything she’s ever fantasized about, and he’s hers. 

So when he tells her to sit on his lap she obeys with no second thoughts. He kisses her for a while. It’s nice and sweet but demanding all the same. A symphony of passion. He nibbles at her, vampire teeth marking her, and she can swear he’s containing a growl as she shifts on his lap and her butt presses into his already hard shaft. He’s so primal that it only gets her wetter. 

His hands do a quick work with her underwear. He actually doesn’t bother removing the piece of clothing. Instead, he rubs her through it, eliciting a melody that has him doomed, and then moves the clothing aside. Without a warning, he slips a finger in and she arches slightly, sinking in the feeling.

She asks for more. He wants to give it to her, but oh doesn’t he love the way she begs. 

 “Please…”

“There’s my girl.”

He touches her insides, and she wonders if at the same time he’s also touching her very soul, because she feels herself float amidst the crescendo of this inevitable romance, her muscles turning pure liquid, and her heart ready to combust. 

 Whether she’s spread open in his lap or sprawled on the bed like a dessert to be devoured, touching her is like playing an instrument, and she creates music that’s only for him. 

It’s the way she moans his name that always brings him to his knees. He can’t help but wonder if this is exactly what heaven feels like. He certainly feels like there can’t be a better paradise. 

His fingers move inside of her. It’s a slow and delicate dance, different from other times, and the soft sounds she makes as he adds grace with his mouth to the spot right below her ear are something he hopes he never has to live without. 

He might have won an award tonight, but his most prized gift is right in his arms, being held against his body, her back pressed against his chest, her hair tickling the skin on his neck and jaw.  

She’s still wearing the exquisite black dress she chose for the event. She looked ethereal, a piece of art to be revered and cherished, but he couldn’t stop himself from dreading the moment in which he would be able to strip her off it. 

He does so when he finally has her in their bed, laid on top of the white sheets like a celestial being, her skin adorned with a delicate sheen of perspiration, every contour of her anatomy gleaming in the soft light. He wants to lick every inch of her and when he’s done, he wants to do it all over again, reveling in the intoxicating taste of her every hour, every minute of the day, every second of the night. 

For as long as the moon chases the sun. 

Even if he gets to do it every other day, he dreams of sinking his cock deep inside of her and never leaving. There are days when he feels like a man possessed, as if she has bewitched him, rendering him forever ensnared at her feet. 

Well, he wouldn’t complain, anyway. He’d willingly bend to her every whim. He would give her anything she wants, anything she asks for.

The thing is, she likes it when he takes control, and it only makes his dick harder to think of all the nasty things she allows him to do with her body and her mind.

He stares at her intently for a while from the edge of the bed, savoring the way her impatience grows as his touch eludes her. He knows that with each passing moment, he only fuels the fire inside of her, helping to build her climax. She’ll thank him later, he’s sure of it. 

The way those deep, penetrating earth eyes are fixed on the tender space between her thighs make her burn, igniting her cheeks and increasing her heartbeat. 

She’s as doomed as he is. Aren’t they perfect for each other?

Sun-kissed skin touches hers. She holds her breath. He’s in. He’s touching not only her body with his hands, mouth, and cock, but he’s also touching the parts of her that are invisible to the eyes. 

There’s a little frown that always appears between his eyebrows with the first thrust. She’s in love with it. It shows his vulnerability. 

 Her.

 His weakness.

Her. 

His surrender. 

To her. 

It’s like he’s momentarily gone, consumed by a rapture that knows no bounds. 

She’s not sure if she should describe him as an angel or a demon. He’s as wicked as one and there’s no denying it.   

He fucks her hard, but she loves it all the same. His hands are on her hips as he stares down at her from his kneeled position. At some point, his green gaze freezes on the area where their bodies connect, and she can see a flash of disbelief crossing his eyes. Yeah, she also can’t believe how fucking good they bind together. It’s sinful but it’s beautiful, and she can’t wait to feel the warmth of his release spreading down the inside of her thighs, mixed with her own release. 

He wants her to scream his name, and she does because he prompts her to with deliberate thrusts. He knows what to do, where to touch her, how, in order to get her to whimper, moan, and scream. These sounds they’re all just as wonderful, but when his name is filling the room with her sweet voice, with such abandonment, he knows his own climax is right at the corner.

 She’s clutching the sheets with borderline desperation. Her eyes close for a while as she revels in the pleasure. It’s too much and not enough. It’s insane. 

His smile moves slowly across his face like a moonrise as she reaches her orgasm, totally surrendered to him. There’s no greatest delight than knowing he’s able to take her there, to that moment of pure ecstasy and bliss. She screams one last time with wild abandon, and he spills into her, his wails mingling with hers as if he’s a miserable ordinary man. 

She’s a siren lulling him to the depths of the ocean. 

He wouldn’t mind drowning for her. 

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of Satosugu 2023 Day 18 - Uncertainty

This fic was inspired by this wonderful headcanon from @get0suguru

“Trust fall!” Satoru yells, hurling himself at Shoko only to stop floating at the exact place where she stands. Or well, stood, because she neatly side-stepped him and then watches uncaringly how he falls on his ass.

It doesn’t hurt because Infinity stops him from really hitting the ground, but his ego does take a bruise.

“Ow, Shoko, how can you be so mean to me?” he whines out, getting up and dusting himself off as if he needs it, but Shoko only regards him with slight annoyance.

“Do you do that with everyone?” she wants to know and Satoru honestly hadn’t thought about it.

It’s just—he was bored just a moment ago and Shoko walked past, and it had seemed like a good idea. He needs to use his new floating abilities for something, right?

And it might actually be fun to see how everyone else will react, though he hopes no one is as mean to him as Shoko just was.

“Yes,” Satoru confidently says even though he has yet to jump at anyone else like that and Shoko narrows her eyes at him.

“I am not going to heal you, should anything happen, so don’t even think about coming to me,” she informs him and Satoru doesn’t doubt that for a second.

He also doesn’t remind her that he doesn’t need her healing anymore.

“And the others?”

“If you hurt any of the others with these stupid shenanigans of yours I expect you to beg.” There’s a pleased look to her face and Satoru presses his lips together.

“Fine,” he still agrees because what else is he supposed to do and Shoko smiles at him like she knows it, too.

But not even the threat of having to beg her for some healing is going to stop him now that she planted the idea in his head and he gives her a blinding smile.

“I’ll get you one day, too, just you wait,” Satoru confidently tells her and Shoko crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Dream on, oh honoured one.” It’s said in a mocking voice and sometimes Satoru wishes he would have never mentioned this to her and Suguru, because the teasing has been endless.

Shoko simply walks off after saying that, leaving Satoru behind and for a brief moment he thinks about trying it again, even though he knows his chances are about the same for her catching him.

No, he’ll have to catch her off guard one day, and he vows that he will do it, too.

~*~*~

Things with Nanami go about as well as expected. He regards him just like Shoko had when Satoru falls to his ass after yelling “Trust fall” and dropping himself in reach of Nanami.

It’s about what Satoru had expected, if he’s being honest.

Nanami is not his biggest fan, and he keeps reminding Satoru at every possible moment that his Infinity is keeping him safe from everything. It makes Satoru wonder, sometimes, if Nanami would simply assume the same during a fight and Satoru has to admit that it makes something uneasy curl in his stomach.

He might have automated Infinity, but it’s not fool proof yet and one of these days he’s going to get his ass handed to him. The only question is if Nanami would simply watch it happen or not.

Satoru shakes his head at those thoughts, because of course Nanami wouldn’t simply let it happen, not once he notices what’s going on, but the thought is still hard to shake.

It makes Satoru refrain from immediately trying Haibara next, because Nanami huffing out an amused laugh as Satoru crashed to the ground was certainly a blow to the ego.

Still, Haibara has to suffer through the same eventually, and Haibara—bless his heart—actually attempts to catch him.

He stumbles over his own feet in the end, and he isn’t quite strong enough to take the entirety of Satoru’s weight, but at least an attempt was made.

“Hey, you okay?” Haibara wants to know once Satoru’s feet are safely back on the ground and Satoru grins at him.

“Trust fall,” he belatedly tells him because he might have forgotten to mention that, and Haibara’s concern warms his heart.

“Oh. Well, I guess I failed, right? Didn’t quite catch you there,” Haibara says with an embarrassed laugh and Satoru grins at him.

“Actually, you get full marks, on behalf of the others failing,” he informs him brightly but Haibara frowns at him.

“Geto let you fall? That doesn’t sound right,” Haibara mutters and now it’s Satoru’s turn to let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Haha, yeah, no, I haven’t gotten to him yet. But Shoko and Nanami let me fall, which is all kinds of rude, if you ask me.”

“Geto won’t,” Haibara says, clearly completely convinced and Satoru gives him his best bright grin.

“Yeah, he probably won’t,” he agrees, even though he’s not quite sure about that.

“Anyway, was there anything you need, or was this all?” Haibara asks and Satoru pats his shoulder.

“That’s all, thanks for trying,” Satoru honestly says, and he is grateful that Haibara did try.

Didn’t quite succeed but the intent clearly was there, which can’t be said for Shoko and Nanami.

“You’re welcome,” Haibara calls out and jogs off, leaving Satoru to his own thoughts.

He’s not insecure, not quite, but there are certain things that make him uncertain. And one uncertainty is if Suguru really would catch him.

Satoru thinks he might—hopes so, really—but he can’t be sure about that unless he tries and that’s what’s stopping him from trying.

If Suguru lets him fall flat on his ass—even though Infinity will protect him from getting hurt—Satoru is not sure if he’ll ever make it back to his feet.

Well, there’s no rush in trying it out with Suguru, Satoru muses, and if he just ends up never doing it with him, who will be able to tell, right?

~*~*~

“I heard you’ve been doing a trust fall exorcise with the others,” Suguru off-handedly mentions one day and Satoru freezes.

“Now who would have possibly said something like that?” he eventually laughs out, but he knows that it took him too long because Suguru looks strangely at him.

“Haibara mentioned it the other day and Shoko and Nanami weren’t shy to share their stories then. How come you haven’t tried it with me?”

“Ah, Suguru, come on, is there really a reason to? We’re the strongest,” Satoru tries, slinging his arm around Suguru’s neck and hanging off his side.

“So? What does that have to do with anything?”

Satoru opens his mouth but no words actually come out and he almost loses his balance when Suguru suddenly stops walking.

“Satoru, you know I’d catch you, right?” he wants to know and he seems so serious that there really is nothing else for Satoru to do but nod.

“Of course I know,” he quietly gives back but the frown won’t vanish from Suguru’s face.

“No matter what, I’d always catch you, Satoru,” Suguru tells him and it sounds like the truth.

“We’ll see about that,” Satoru says with a cheeky grin, because it’s a big promise to make and now he’s actually even more afraid of trying it out because if Suguru doesn’t catch him then he will have lied to Satoru.

And that is not something Satoru is sure he could stand.

~*~*~

After that talk it becomes clear that Suguru is just waiting for Satoru to do the trust fall exorcise with him as well and he seems to worry more with every day that passes that Satoru doesn’t do it.

Satoru knows he’ll have to do it eventually, but he still needs to hype himself up for it, tries to convince himself that it doesn’t matter if Suguru lets him fall flat on his ass, because it’s not as if that can hurt Satoru.

Well, Satoru’s body can’t be hurt like that. His heart is an entirely different matter.

Still, eventually he has to do it, and so he does.

He’s floating high up in the air when he spots Suguru walking along the path under him, clearly ready to return to his room and Satoru thinks it’s now or never.

“Trust fall,” he shouts, causing Suguru to snap his head up to him and Suguru is running before Satoru even really stopped floating.

He’s plummeting from a pretty significant height, so Satoru breaks the fall down himself until he’s about an arm length above Suguru and then he simply lets himself fall.

And Suguru catches him easily.

He doesn’t stumble and he doesn’t belatedly drop him to the floor, either; his arms are safe and secure around Satoru and he’s holding him tightly to his chest.

“Told you so,” Suguru tells him with a grin, slightly out of breath from the sprint he had to do to get to Satoru in time and Satoru finds himself beaming back at Suguru.

“That you did,” he agrees and mourns the loss of contact when Suguru sets him down on the ground.

“You good?” Suguru asks, clearly worried for a second anyway but Satoru nods.

“I’m perfect.”

And he is, knowing that Suguru keeps his promise.

~*~*~

It’s addicting. It’s addicting in a way Satoru wasn’t prepared for and he fully blames Suguru for it, because he does keep his promise.

He keeps catching Satoru no matter what.

Satoru has taken to let himself fall into Suguru’s arms multiple times a day, simply because he can and simply because Suguru is always ready and never seems to mind and it makes something bright and warm unfurl in Satoru’s chest.

One time, Suguru had been giving a report to Yaga, stacks of paper in his hands and they had gone flying everywhere when Suguru spotted Satoru in the air.

Yaga is still yelling at them for it, and Satoru would feel bad for getting Suguru into trouble with something stupid like that, but Suguru never seems to mind and he always tells Yaga that it was more important to catch Satoru at that moment. The papers could be picked up later, anyways.

That statement made Satoru’s heart beat like crazy and he might have gotten even more obnoxious since then.

“Trust fall!” Satoru laughs out, floating in the air a little ahead of Suguru and the moment he says it, Suguru starts running.

And it’s only then that Satoru sees that Suguru was holding his favourite mug in one hand, which is now flying through the air before it crashes to the ground and breaks just as Suguru brings his arms up to catch Satoru.

Just like he always does.

“Got you,” Suguru mutters, briefly pressing Satoru to his chest before he lets go of him again and Satoru feels horrible.

“I am so sorry,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on Suguru’s chest. “I didn’t mean to make you drop that.”

“Huh?” Suguru says and turns around to look at the destroyed mug. “Oh, that. Doesn’t matter, I still caught you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Satoru says and takes a step back. “You know that, right? There’s actually no real reason for you to always catch me.”

“What? Of course there is,” Suguru immediately gives back and flicks Satoru’s forehead. “I told you I would, so I’m doing it.”

“But—that was your favourite mug, which is now broken. I wouldn’t have broken if you had let me fall this one time,” Satoru mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Wouldn’t you?” Suguru seriously asks and Satoru’s head snaps up to look at him. “I think something might have broken if I had let you fall, and I’m not about to take that chance. It’s just a mug, Satoru, you can buy me a new one.”

Suguru’s words make Satoru blush something fierce, because he might be right. If Suguru had let him fall, Satoru’s heart might have broken on impact.

Still.

“I won’t do it again. And I’ll pay for a new mug, of course,” he tells Suguru who flicks his forehead again. “Hey, ouch,” Satoru complaints and rubs the spot even as Suguru leans forward to better look at him.

“Satoru, don’t be stupid. You can do it as much as you want, I’ll always catch you, no matter what I have to drop to do so.”

He seems completely serious as he says it, as if it’s not even a question for him that he’ll continue to be right there whenever Satoru falls and it’s too much to take for the moment, so Satoru turns his attention to the mug again.

It was a stupid gag gift he got Suguru; the words I’m the sexiest mother around printed on the mug, which Satoru thought kind of fitting, because Suguru is somewhat the mother hen of their group. The fact that warm liquid turns the print into I’m the sexiest motherfucker around is even more fitting and had sent Satoru into a laughing fit before he immediately bought it for Suguru.

He is the sexiest person around, after all. Not that Satoru is ever going to tell him that.

“You’ll still have to pick a new mug,” Satoru mutters, not daring to address what Suguru just said and Suguru rolls his eyes.

“That was my favourite mug because you bought it for me,” he tells him with a sigh and Satoru gapes at him.

“That was a stupid gag gift!”

“A stupid gag gift I happen to like because it came from you,” Suguru immediately shoots back and looks expectantly at Satoru. “So you’ll have to buy me a new one. But something with a more fitting text this time, maybe.”

“Oh yeah, and what would be more fitting than what was on that one?” Satoru asks, wondering what Suguru is on about and he knows he ran right into whatever trap Suguru set up when he smiles brightly at him.

“Maybe something along the lines of Best boyfriend,” he easily says and Satoru’s mouth drops open.

“I—” he doesn’t actually know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to deal with this at all and he wishes instead of floating he could phase right through the ground.

“Can’t be too hard to find something like that, right?” Suguru whispers, leaning close and brushing his lips against Satoru’s cheek.

“And what do I get?” Satoru finally manages to get out, his voice just a tad too high and his knees wobble dangerously when Suguru smiles at him.

“The same? I mean, you’d be my boyfriend then, too, right?”

“I sure would be,” Satoru mutters under his breath and makes a stupidly embarrassing noise when Suguru steals a kiss for himself.

“You sure are,” Suguru corrects him. “And as your boyfriend it’s my duty to always catch you, no matter what.”

“Well, as your boyfriend it’s my duty to not make you drop things you like,” Satoru shoots back and his feelings turn a little gooey when Suguru takes his hand in his.

“I haven’t dropped you,” he seriously says and Satoru fears the blush on his face might be permanent at this point.

“You—” he gets out before he thinks that kissing Suguru again might be the better route to take here.

“And I don’t intent to,” Suguru mutters against his lips when they part and really, there is nothing Satoru can do but to accept it.

“Fine. I’m counting on you, then,” he agrees, making Suguru smile again.

“Always,” he promises and Satoru is inclined to believe him.

It certainly doesn’t help that he now gets extra kisses every time Suguru catches him, though Satoru is careful to not make him drop his boyfriend mug. They have to match, after all.

[nefelibatally]

A lot of you don’t know this, but Hayden and I argue about the day we met a lot, you see I think it was us bantering over playing a game of basketball when he first got to the squadron, he thinks it’s the PT field and I didn’t have a partner. If you put those two thoughts together it kind of sums up how we fell to be in love. Me with the banter and playful childish races, and him with the “she needs somebody to stand by her” a few months after this first interaction I was in a bad spot mentally, all my friends had left and I felt the most alone I’d felt in my life. I remember praying to God asking him to give me somebody, anybody. I remember begging please God I need somebody to change me for the better, I need somebody to love me for me God.

There was a day where I invited Hayden to my room cause I needed somebody to talk to, we hungout for maybe an hour or so, I remember hurting so bad. He was respectful sitting on the other bed in the room, while I was just internally suffering to be loved on my side but I didn’t say anything. We exchanged words and he left.

I remembered praying to God asking him, “God please give me somebody please I need to build a life with somebody who is worth everything God I need a living soul who loves just as much as I do God please.”

Hayden came over a second time, I don’t remember the context but I remember he asked me to go eat. With tears in my eyes I jumped in his truck and he drove me to a fast food spot in which I love. He then dropped me off at my barracks and wished me a good night.

I constantly asked God for strength and for hope and for love. Hayden would text my phone and I’d be like “not right now dude I’m trynna find the love of my life” he’d be like “let me know when we can watch movies” and I’d be like “BROTHER I’m lITTERALLY praying to God right now for a sign can you give me 5min”

I remember the day it hit me. The moment. The second. It was a few months later, July 4th around 4am. I knew God had been sending me you.

Hayden. You are living proof prayers work

Loving you is a testimony in itself

If I ever feel like God isn’t here, or he doesn’t listen, that everything is hard and I’m just not a favorite I know I can look at you, and everything will make sense

I used to dream about love, about being swept up off my feet of moved by an unbalanced force a love that will stay in motion , a love that will keep me at rest.

I don’t dream anymore, especially in this life where I will get to wake up to you. Where I will get to experience what loving you is like every. Waking. Moment.

There’s a theory that people are drawn to each other because their atoms were near each other when the world was created. So throughout time they will always find their way back to each other, I believe it to be true. I believe that in the universe where we do not end up together, i am spent yearning for you, it’s spent longing for your soul. And In that verse where you are not mine. I am still yours.

You see you once told me I introduced you to what love was but Hayden I need you to know you redefined what love could EVER be to me. You have rewrote this very ballad of a woman

You have been the first person I have thought of who isn’t just poetry, you have became my story.

You have became a listener to my soliloquies, a muse behind the stroke of a paint brush baby you have became my solace. From that little barracks room 1141 where I cried begging for God to give me strength, begging to God to Give me hope, to give me love; he gave me you. You have became the man I want to worship with for the rest of my life, you have became the tombstone I wish mine to rest on even when death does us part. You have been everything, and anything, every where and anywhere. Starting from the very beginning, when I met you in that auditorium, I may be from your rib. But baby you are in every good part of me.

[alittleperiwinkle]

Lately, it feels like I’m walking through a fog—one that settles in my bones the second I step into work. I’m usually bright. Thoughtful. A little intense. A little weird. The kind of girl who sees too much, feels too much. A Virgo to the core—structured but soft, always trying to make sense of everything. I dream of harmony, of people who treat each other with care. I crave a kind of calm that lets me breathe.

But at work, I feel like shit.

It’s not the job—it’s the atmosphere. I clean. It should be simple, even peaceful. But the energy is heavy. Tense. Paranoid. I feel watched, like every step is judged. Like my silence speaks louder than it should. I thought this place would understand—that I’m in school, that I have a family, that I’m doing my best. But no. When I ask for a day off, I’m treated like I’ve done something wrong. Like my life outside of work is an inconvenience to them.

And I hate who I am there.

I shrink. I doubt myself. I flinch at simple questions like “how are you?” I’m too emotional, too soft, too scared of saying the wrong thing. My voice gets caught in my throat, and I become someone I don’t even recognize—someone who watches from the sidelines, instead of standing up.

But that’s not who I want to be.

I want to be clever. I want to be bold. I want to be the girl who raises her head, lifts her sword, and walks into battle like a storm they never saw coming. I want to be brave enough not to care who hates me. I want to stop trying to make everyone comfortable. I want to stop apologizing for being alive, for taking up space, for needing time, for having a voice.

I want to stand on my own two feet and not shake. I want to look people in the eye and not flinch. I want the strength to let people’s opinions bounce off me like arrows off armor. I want to weld my sword up high—my voice, my truth, my presence—and see them coward at the sight of someone who knows who they are.

I want to be the kind of woman doubt doesn’t dare to approach.

But how do I become her?

Right now, I hide in my mind to survive. I drift. I dream. While I clean, I disappear into other worlds—places where I matter, where I fight dragons and win. Places where my softness is power, not weakness. I imagine sunlight through trees, pages turning, hands that build, voices that lift. I lose myself in stories, music, moments that keep me afloat when reality makes me feel like I’m drowning.

Because the stress here—it's thick, like smoke. It taints people. It steals kindness. And I feel it trying to steal me.

But I won’t let it.

Somewhere in me, I know she exists—the girl with the sword. The girl who doesn’t beg to be heard—she commands it. The girl who isn’t afraid to be seen, even if being seen means being misunderstood. I want to become her. I will become her.

This place may try to bury me, but I’m not soil. I am fire. I am wind. I am something they cannot contain.

[ellieslittlebitch69]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Hey besties :)) I'm baked and decided to put out another chapter ;) Let me know what you think so far!! And thank you for the love so far, you're all so sweet!

Prologue: Home Is Where The Heart is

Home Is Where The Heart Is: Chapter One 

------

It’s been weeks since i’ve arrived in Jackson, and not once have I slept through the night. 

David taunts me in my dreams, reminding me of everything he’s stolen. My family, my body, my sanity. My rest, apparently too. Just as I escape one horror, closing my eyes sinks me into the next. My eyes burn and itch throughout the days, a light pink hugh shadowing them.

A few days ago, I was finally able to trade the wheelchair for some sturdy crutches. I’ve already eaten shit a good few times, in public to my dismay. They lie next to me as I sit in front of the fireplace, drying my hair as I wait for Tommy.

We’ve formed somewhat of an understanding. He stops by every morning, watching me take my pills and eat something for breakfast, smiling as he watches me eat. By nightfall he returns, with dinner and always begs me to come into town. Ever since the incident, though, I’ve locked myself away at home.

I still find myself thinking about her, Ellie. I see her and Joel walking home from the square at night, practically glued to one another’s side. Sometimes, it makes me think of father. I wonder how he would like Jackson, or the people around us. Maybe we’d be living here together.

Just as I let my mind begin a dark turn, I hear my door pound, “Door’s open, Tommy.”

The door stays still for a moment, and I wonder what is taking so long until the door opens and… Tommy isn’t standing there, holding a plate of white pasta and a glass of orange juice.

Ellie is.

I take a deep breath, “Oh, did you come to fight? Kind of petty not to wait until I'm able.”

She’s silent for a moment, before willing a smile onto her lips. She’s wearing a pair of dark denim, a maroon long sleeve shirt, with matching tennis shoes. Like always, her hair pulled back to reveal her ocean eyes. It was like torture.

“Tommy and Joel are on late night patrol… so I thought I could bring you dinner.”

Ellie doesn’t move from her spot by the door, holding the tray with both hands. She avoids eye contact like the plague.

My lips twitch into a smile, “and how do I know you didn’t poison it?”

She ignores my comment as she walks forward, setting the steaming plate in front of me. It smells of roast chicken and garlic, instantly making my mouth water. By the time I look up at her again, she’s staring at me intently.

She takes a deep breath, “Joel and Tommy thought it would be best if I… apologize, for the other night.”

“Oh?”

Ellie holds herself together strong, but I can see the quivers in her arms as she stands there. Her eyes shift with uncertainty, never quite meeting a particular target. It was almost funny to watch, seeing this tough girl seemingly fall apart.

“Well,” I start. “Lets hear it, then.”

A nervous laugh escapes her lips, “I did? That was my apology.”

“You fucking suck at apologizing, Ellie.”

We stare at each other for a moment, before bursting into laughter. The second one of us would stop, the other would snort so loud it would trigger another fit. Laughing like this felt good, really good. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.

Ellie takes a seat next to me on the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. As she got comfortable, I took the time to completely devour my plate, barely even chewing. The sauce was savory and filled with herbs, while the chicken was juicy and tender. By the time I was finished, I couldn’t help but let out a burp.

She lets out a deep sigh, “I remember my few weeks. I ate so much I looked pregnant.”

“Yeah, well I miss having boobs,” I laugh, licking my fingers. “I look like a little boy.”

Ellie looks down at her own chest with a frown, “At least you’ve HAD them, i don’t think i’ll ever get any.”

We burst out laughing again, and I take this opportunity to look at her. The freckles splayed out on her cheeks, underpainted with a deep blush. Her nose, curved and tiny, like a little button. The way she’d bat her eyelashes. It was all too much.

She catches her breath, “I really am sorry, for the other day. I’m just not used to being around… nice people.”

“Who said anything about being nice?” I reply, looking over at her soft expression. “No, really it’s okay. I’m sorry for staring.”

“Why were you staring, anyway?”

I look at her for a moment, puzzled. Either I can tell her the truth, that I find her absolutely breathtaking. That the sight of her made me stop in my tracks and smile. Or, I can lie. And based on how creepy the truth sounds, I take the lying approach.

I inhale, “I don’t think I've ever really seen anyone my age before. Every settlement I've ever been to has been overflowing with old people.”

This makes her laugh, “That sounds… awful. I hate old people.”

“Well you sure do seem to love Tommy and Joel.”

I wish I could take it back, the look on her face lowers for a moment. Her mouth gapes like a fish, trying to decide what to say before ultimately closing multiple times. 

She lets out a small smile, “yeah, well. I guess family is different.”

I think back on what Tommy said, my first night. It was hard to think I could have found my place, my people here. I’m still waiting for the punch in the gut, when these people finally show their true colors and I’ll have to flee. But, for some reason I don’t see it coming.

Ellie makes herself comfortable, as she tells me the stories of her previous mission with Joel. Traveling across the country, to be reunited with the Fireflies. She never tells me why, and I don’t ask. Hours flow by, and I notice her mannerisms. The way she bites her pinky when she’s nervous. Licking her chapped lips between sentences. Her voice getting louder when she gets to an exciting part of the story.

As she comes to an end, her eyes glance over to my bow, “Oh my god, that is sexy.”

“Sexiest thing i’ve ever seen,” I laugh, running my finger tips over its arch. “It was my father’s, he carved it before the apocalypse.”

I hand it to her, watching as she runs her fingers over the black-stained bow. The intricacies carved into the sides. It makes me smile, knowing fathers work will be appreciated even after he’s long gone. 

Ellie looks up, “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it with you.”

I shrug her off, “Oh well, that’s life. He’d love it here, though.”

“The food is great.”

I crack a smile, looking at the bow. “Oh yeah, he’d love that too. But, he always dreamed of living in peace again. Just existing instead of surviving. And you guys have beer? Woah.”

We stare at each other for a minute, and I find myself getting sucked into her eyes again. It was a trap, really. Like a magnet, I feel our faces slowly come closer to each other.

Which is then interrupted by Tommy and Joel, crashing open the door. Ellie stumbles back, laying back on the couch while I run my fingers through my hair with a nervous laugh. Fuck.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy chuckles. “Look at that. big brother. They didn’t kill each other.”

Joel lets out a laugh, eyes glancing to my empty plate. The smile stays glued to my face as he approaches the coffee table, looking over me again for a moment. His fingers come to his watch, stroking the leather slowly. 

He lets out a sigh, “Alright, Ellie. You need some sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

Ellie let’s put a huff, “What’s even the point? It’s not like I have to go to college?”

I had never been able to go to a school before, besides bible study. Mama, for the most part, taught me everything I knew. What plants to forage, how to read and write, basic math. 

“School?” I ask, looking over to Tommy. “There’s school here, too?”

“Why yes there is,” he says with a smile. “We didn’t wanna overwhelm you, though. If you don’t-“

“I wanna go to school, please I am so bored. If I can't go hunting yet I might as well thump some books.”

Tommy and Joel glance at one another, contemplating for a moment, while Ellie gives me a nervous smile. I can’t look at her straight on though, without my cheeks bursting with a blush.

Joel nods, “Sounds good. Ellie will pick you up tomorrow at 8.”

“You’re not even gonna ask-“

“No, because I told you to Ellie.” Joel shoots me a wink before helping Ellie off the couch. 

The both of them stare into each other's eyes, challenging silently before Ellie backs down, looking over her shoulder at me with a half smile.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.”

——

Ellie walks me to school every morning with a smile. There was never a dull moment between us, and the second there was silence she would slip out a joke book from her back pack. The jokes were stupid, but the way her face would light up everytime she told one made my heart erupt. In a way, she reminded me of Bonnie. There was still a touch of innocence. I want to be jealous of her, somehow traveling across the country with her family intact and a smile on her face. But I couldn't help but be happy for her. It must be nice.

It’s been a few weeks, and I’m officially free from the crutches. Despite a slight limp, I’m almost fully healed. I sit at my desk in the study, writing a two page paper for English. Ellie complained when our teacher assigned the work, but it made me smile. A little distraction never hurt anyone.

Tomorrow is my first day on the hunting crew. I’ve been assigned with Joel and Jesse, a young boy a few years ahead of me. My body shakes and twitches with excitement, to finally return to the woods, to run my fingers across the string of the bow. To prove that I am worthy to live in the community.

Just as I begin to write my final paragraph, I hear a low crash in the living room. I drop the lead pencil, freezing in my place. The crashing continues, footsteps increasing pace towards the door.

Without second thought, I grab and load my bow, staring intently at the door. I can hear glass crunching under someone’s thick boots, causing me to inch forward. The door opens and I pull the string back, and just as I’m about to release the arrow between their collarbones, I see the blue eyes.

“Ellie?” I sigh, dropping the bow to my side. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I almost killed you, dumbass.”

A smile eases on her lips, as her arms raised in surrender in the air. “I’m sorry, sorry. I was gonna knock, but I wanted to see if your windows lock.”

“Oh my god Ellie, did you break my fucking window?”

“No, no!” She sighs, “But I may have knocked over a lamp or two climbing in.”

Rolling my eyes, I set the bow down on my desk with a frown, “If you’re here to copy my essay, I’m not even finished yet.”

She laughs, “you’re funny, I haven’t thought of that essay since last week.”

“It’s due in three days, Ellie.”

“Well, then I’ll start it in two.”

We stare at each other for a moment as I begin to catch my breath. She wears a leather jacket way too big for her, jeans, and thick leather boots. Instead of her usual ponytail, though, her hair waves against her red cheeks, ending just below her shoulders. 

I clear my throat, “what are you doing here? I have a shift in three hours.”

“And you’re worried about a dumb paper?” She laughs, “I couldn’t sleep and um..” Her eyes shift to her fingers, rubbing them together nervously.

“And?”

Her eyes don’t leave the floor, “I was wondering if you’d teach me how to shoot.”

I laugh, a deep guttural laugh from deep in my belly. How is this girl even alive if she can’t shoot?

“You can’t shoot a gun?” Her eyes lift to meet mine slowly as I speak, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“I meant the bow you idiot.”

I blink slowly, looking over at the analog clock sitting on the table. 3:26 a.m. There was a part of me that wanted to say no, to tell her that no one else was allowed to use it. But I couldn’t say no to those fucking eyes. 

A sigh escapes my lips, “Oh, okay. Well… are there any targets out here?”

Ellie leads me to the shooting range, off the edge of the town. It’s nothing special, just a few painted targets sitting on an isle in the grass. They look as if they’ve never been touched. I can’t hold my excitement, running forward the second I see them in the horizon.

“Slow down! You shouldn’t be running on that ankle!” 

I look over my shoulder, “fuck off!”

I begin loading the bow just as Ellie reaches me, catching her breath in hitches. Her whole face is painted red, almost making her freckles disappear.

The arrow pierces the air, cutting through it like a sword to meet with the center of the target. I can’t help the smug look on my face as I turn back to Ellie, who’s jaw practically touches her knees.

“Holy shit, man.”

I chuckle, “Alright, now your turn.” I hand her the bow slowly, taking the sheath of arrows off my back and swinging it over her shoulder.

The shots she takes don’t even make it within five feet of the target. She curses, fiddles with her hands, and stomps the ground a few times in defeat. She’s like a tiny dog, all this anger bottled into such a little person.

I can’t watch it anymore, I decide just as she begins to load another arrow. We’ve been out here for almost two hours, and I can slowly see the sun coming up from the horizon. I find myself tentatively holding Ellie’s elbow, helping her take aim.

“What are you doing?” She asks, her breath hitching as she looks over her shoulder.

“I can’t watch you miss again, El, it’s killing me.”

“Fuck you, too,” she scoffs, but not pushing away from my touch.

My heart skips a beat at the nickname, rolling off the tongue before I could stop myself. Her eyes brighten slightly as she turns back around, slowly pulling the arrow back.

“Now, take a deep breath, in through your belly.”

“Wh-”

“Oh my god, Ellie, please just listen.”

She obliged, releasing a deep breath as she stared intently at the target. A shiver runs through my spine as I realize how close we are, goosebumps popping up onto my arms.

“And…release.”

The arrow shoots through the air, whistling in the breeze. I twitch with anticipation, following the arrow to the target. But it doesn’t sink into the isle.

It sinks into Bonnie’s head.

Just as Ellie screams with joy, looking over at me with a smile, I fall to the ground with grief. A piercing scream shoots through my body and into the air, shooting electricity down my spine. I can’t stop the tears, the whimpers, the shaking. I killed my baby sister.

Just as Ellie shoots down beside me, in the distance I see Joel on his horse, yelling my name as I get consumed by darkness.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

I Cant Betray You part 5 - Hoseok mafia au

6.3K words I like to call disaster, welcome to the finale from hell. Trigger warnings: abduction, abuse, mentioned human trafficking, torture, drugging, guns, violence, blood, death, starvation, brief mention of suicide, derogatory terms, a butt load of sexism and objectifying women. Italics are the past or thoughts

Prev

Red gushes out of his mouth as he stares at you, his expression empty. That unnerved you a little, you expected shock or anger, something human in his reaction. It was almost as if he knew this was inevitable, or he was truly the monster from the depths of Hell you had yet to discover by his side. There was no satisfaction in this, no pleasure, not with the blank look on his face. You wanted him to suffer a little of what you had, in every dream of this scenario that haunted you in your sleep, you screamed and cried as you took his life, but even you were eerily silent now the moment arrived. 

‘The dead don’t make a sound’, it's funny his words enter your mind now, the carcasses of his men surrounding you. This room was full of the deceased, you included. Most people die once a lifetime, but you were already dead inside because of them, it was only right to return the favour before they killed you a second time, a final time.

You’re covered in their blood but it doesn’t faze you. The instinct to survive took over, you’d seen enough people dying before, by the hands of the man in front of you now, you were almost numb to it now. You push the knife in your hands deeper into his chest, making sure this nightmare was truly over, waiting for the light to leave his eyes. You didn’t feel guilt, or like your soul was tainted. For the first time since you can remember, you felt the heavy burden on your existence lift. You were free.

—

He couldn’t find you. The thought has his soul sinking six feet underground, the body of a dead man walking in his place. It had been days, there were no leads, no clues, nothing. Everything they did came up empty, the flower shop on the van was fake, the number plates were bogus, whoever took you knew exactly what they were doing and they were a hundred steps ahead of him.

He stares in silence at the maps of Seoul, his arms supporting his weight on the desk as his eyes pour over each one, begging for a sign as to where you were. He understood why you chose the city as your hiding spot, anyone could lose themselves in the concrete jungle of the east.

There was no such thing as hope left in him, but what was he supposed to do? Give up? While you were out there somewhere alone in the hands of who knows what? He couldn’t. Until his last dying breath, he could never give up on finding you. He blamed himself, he hated himself, completely and utterly. He learned of your past, the dumbass detective had taunted him with it, yet he left you alone, even with this threat looming over you, he left you alone. 

“I should have put surveillance on her!” He screams into the dark room as the thought finds a voice, the glass of bourbon thrown against the wall in a fit of despaired rage. It's the thousandth time he’s cried into the night, begging to find you safe and sound. But he isn’t a fool, he knows wherever you are, you’re suffering. 

He doesn’t know how long he cries until his tears sober, an eerie numbness taking over each time. His eyes begged for rest, his men had told him he’d think sharper after a night's sleep. He almost shot them for such a suggestion, and they could see it in his glare. It was safe to say they never brought it up again.

“Hoseok!” His cousin calling his name in panic does nothing to stir him alive, not unless the news was of you. But he had let himself hope that too many times in the past few days, his brain told his body to wait before it came back to life.

Krystal appears breathless at his door, supporting herself on the frame.

“Our buildings in Gangnam are being attacked!” She says rushed. “Someone set them on fire.”

He almost chuckles humourlessly, he leaves his empire for 72 hours and the vultures and rats of Seoul are already trying to infest it while the life of his love hangs in the balance. The audacity of these swines. Who would even dare, knowing the state of his wrath? He had no time for mercy, not with you missing.

“Find whoever did it with Zelo, burn them alive,” he orders. She only nods once firmly before rushing away to do as told.

He sighs as he turns back to the map, he swore every street corner, every building drawn on it mocked him.

—

Three days without food, and barely any water. You were dehydrated, starving and on the cusp of delirium. You still had to see the face behind who took you, but you didn’t have to see it to know. The only human contact you’ve had is the poor thin girl sent to your cell to give you a sip of water, enough to keep you alive, but not enough to satiate your thirst.

It told you one thing, he didn’t want you dead, not yet. You didn’t say a word to the girl, she reminded you too much of another from your previous life, someone you lost, and the resemblance tortured you as much as the starvation. 

You were cold, you were weak, for a moment you wondered why he hadn’t sauntered in here yet and killed you. But you remembered his games, the slowest forms of torture, the most patience you could endure while you reduced your target to nothing, gave you the best thrill in the end. That was how he liked to play, and you knew, the angrier he was, the longer your purgatory would last.

You pull at the ropes that tied you to the chair, the effort feeble. It was useless to try, you were well aware, but sitting here waiting… you couldn’t take it.

—

“What do you think about marriage?”

That was a question out of the blue. You turn with a puzzled expression as he comes in through the kitchen door from work, kissing you on the cheek before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. He looks at you expectedly, not saying another word until you answer.

You sigh, turning back to cooking dinner. The second he can’t see your face it falls, memories haunting you, an unfortunate consequence of his question.

“A piece of paper that makes a man think I’m his property?” you scoff, “no thank you.”

You don’t see the frown on his face, you don’t want to.

“I don’t see it like that,” he contends gently, he didn’t see it like that at all. To him it was a partnership, something to tie you both together in this life and the next. 

His frown only grows when you don’t continue the conversation, he swears he can see the signs of you gulping even though he can only see your back. 

“It just means ‘I love you forever’,” he can’t help the pout on his face, knowing if Zelo saw him now, his right hand man would have a hard time stifling his laughter. The Jung Hoseok acting cute and hurt in front of his girlfriend? It was the stuff of fiction.

You smile at his words, shaking your head as the chill in your bones fade. This was your Hobi, he wasn’t like… him. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, you made sure of it.

“I don’t need a contract to prove that,” you reply softly, finally facing him again as you walk up to him. His arms come around you as you sit in his lap, a happy grin on your face that makes his pout disappear. “You’re stuck with me for life, Jung Hoseok, til death do us apart.”

He returns your grin, you were right, he was never going to let you go. But in the back of his mind, he could hear whisperings of the frailty of trust, the reality of his situation, the fear that when you found out who he really was, you would run. 

But even if you did, even if something tore you both apart, he knows in his heart, he would never stop searching for you.

He doesn’t realise there are similar thoughts running through your mind, mirroring his. The smile dampens ever so slightly, not enough for him to notice, but a heavy overcast dims the light in your eyes. Would Hobi leave you if he found out about your past? Were you putting him in danger by being with him if they ever found you? Were you being too selfish with his life, when yours would forever hang in the balance? 

Happiness was fleeting, but addicting. He gave you a fix for what life could really be, and you didn’t have the heart to leave it.

—

“He’s not talking boss,” Zelo tells him as he walks in, his gaze set on the man that would be the answer to all his hope. The piece of shit had the courage or stupidity to scoff and smirk as he met Hoseok’s eyes, even with the blood dripping down his nose and mouth. 

In other circumstances he might’ve enjoyed torturing this lowlife, but his only concern was extracting information regarding you. The soon to be dead body on the floor was the last person to have seen you, the one that lured you into a false sense of security dressed as a delivery driver. It took them far longer than Hobi would have liked to find him, but finally they had, and now he would not hold back.

“Get me the bone saw,” Hoseok instructs one of his other men, watching the fake delivery boy’s eyes widen as his subordinate nods and walks out. 

Desperation, an innate overwhelming desire to survive makes men do stupid inane things. This fact was proven when the scum tries to find his feet, a need to live fueling his steps as he tries to tackle Zelo out of the way, only to be thrown harshly onto the floor. Where was his cool disrespecting demeanour now? 

Hoseok kneels to meet his gaze at eye level as he sits up, and his next victim now understood why the rumours likened the kingpin of Seoul to the angel of death, a black aura surrounding him like the illusion of wings behind him. But this was no angel, the devil himself came to collect his comeuppance and drag him kicking and screaming into the fires of hell.

“Where is she?” The voice of Death digs his grave with a single question.

The man with terror in his eyes visibly gulps.

“They’ll kill me if I tell you,” he states, shaking his head.

“You’re already dead,” Hoseok tells him as matter of fact, an unnerving smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but the promise was written all over his face. “You’re leaving this room in a bodybag, but believe me when I’m done with you you’ll be begging for it. Most men don’t last 5 minutes before they’re wishing for me to take their life.”

“Why would I tell you if you’re going to kill me either way?” The shit has the audacity to laugh although the sound is nervous even to his own ears. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation,” a breath of laughter passes his lips, the unhinged look in his eyes showing the quivering figure on the floor a glimpse of the darkness that consumed him. “You’ll be kept alive until you tell me, I’ll make sure of it.”

He’s unable to break away from the gaze of the demon in front of him, but in the corner of his eyes he can see a silhouette return from his errand. Hoseok stands, towering over Death’s next victim, the light on the ceiling casting a menacing shadow over him.

“So I’ll ask you one last time,” the voice of death booms above him, his head cast back to watch it in horror, a new dread fills his veins now the face of the kingpin was hidden, his form becoming otherworldly. “Where is she?”

—

Is it day seven? Or day six? You’ve lost count, honestly there was no concept of day or night in this dark cell, no windows to tell you of the passage of time, the only way you could calculate it was with how often that poor girl came to give you your morsels. Your head hurt, your bones ache, you kept drifting in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and fatigued with no energy. You could feel yourself drift now, in and out like waves, eyes heavy.

You dreamt of Hoseok, you assumed it was your brain’s way of coping, but it obviously hadn’t realised how cruel it was when you woke up. You couldn;t let yourself think of him now, there was no use to it, it just made your heart ache. Instead you focused on the consequence of your torture, the hunger, as painful as it was, it was better than thinking of the life you gained and lost. 

As if on cue the door opens, the light from outside this room flooding in like the Sun after a storm. The shadow that emerges steps towards you, and your back goes up. It was too big to be that girl, that step was too loud, too harsh. You were experienced enough to recognise oncoming danger, your muscles tensing under your restraints. He takes another step towards you, and his silhouette becomes a familiar form. You know exactly who this is. And your blood runs cold.

“Seven years I’ve waited for this,” the gravel tone of his voice triggers you to shake without choice, your body and mind blanking as it reverts back to a time of trauma.

He watches you shiver pathetically as his face comes into the dim light of your cell, a man who’s morbidity would make Death and Famine turn their heads in disgust invades your senses, the dread almost pushing you into a seizure. 

Marcus Typhon, the father of the monster that you escaped, come to return you to the underworld before he buried you to reunite you with his son. His hand whips to your neck, so suddenly you choke as his nails dig into your skin. The face of terror stoops to your level, a serpentine fire danced in his glare. 

“Seven years you’ve hidden from me you disrespectful whore,” he spits. “Seven years I’ll extend your sentence with me before I deliver you to Death’s door in pieces.

And then my son can have his way with you for all eternity.”

He watches you hyperventilate, the light leaving your eyes as if your soul was trying to escape what he promised you, he bares his teeth amused by your fear. 

“And don’t think Jung Hoseok will save you,” the life in your face returns with a single name, your lungs finding breath, your nerves calming. Mere seconds ago that name was torture, but now it gave you comfort. “We’ll be out of the country before he has a chance.”

He doesn’t like your new expression, it has his sadistic grin turn into a scowl. Peace did not belong to a bitch such as yourself, and he would beat it out of you. The grip around your throat tightens, holding you in place. You see his fist before it collides with your cheek. 

—

The pounding of your brain against your skull woke you. You should have realised it was your conscience trying to escape this unending life you were stuck in. You thought you were free, you dreamt of it, now you were waking it seemed so cruel. It seemed so real, that man you met, Hoseok, you should have realised he was a figment of your imagination. What criminal would be so loving? You built him off the foundations of what you knew, this horrid life.

“Y/n,” his voice calls for you, it makes your throat seize, a mix of fear and disgust making you want to gag. You don’t know which side of him was worse, the pretence of kindness when he had a drink, or when he had too much and flipped into the cruel bastard you knew. He was worse sober, you decided, so much worse.

You can’t see much in the darkness, it’s eerily quiet, you can’t place him in the shadows, can’t hear his steps but you can feel his presence walk around you. It’s too calm, it puts you on edge.

“When I call for you I expect you to answer me, bitch!”

You see the glass of whiskey fly towards your head like a bullet of a gun out of the darkness, ducking just in time before it collided with you. You’re shaking, you can feel his anger but still your voice was caught in your throat. You feel his hands sneak around your neck, your breath taken from you as the pressure builds. You try so hard to speak, to make a sound.

“My property must behave accordingly Y/n,” he says, his breath on your face but you can’t see him. “I paid so much money for you.”

“Midas,” you finally choke out his name. “Stop.”

It was like his name unveiled him to your eyes, a decaying face next to yours in your peripherals that makes you freeze… you remember… you killed him, how was he here?

“How long do you think you can run from me?” He whispers into your ear as the past catches up with you. Blood stained his chest as he comes fully into view, the stab wounds you inflicted blaring at you in the corpse come alive to take you to hell with him once more.

A second hand wraps around your neck, squeezing the life out of you as you fall to the floor in front of him. This was it, this was how you were going to die, by the hands of a ghost.

You hear your name yelled from his lips but he sounded so far away, you must be losing consciousness, you must be fading because you could no longer feel the world under you.

“Y/n!” Why was he shouting when you were right in front of him, when he was squeezing the life out of you. “Angel!”

You frown, he’s never called you that before, he didn’t sound like that. You didn’t think he could ever sound so… concerned.

“Angel!” Hoseok shakes your shoulders as you wince. “Baby it’s just a dream.”

For the past few minutes you were making strange noises in your sleep, it didn’t take him long to realise you were having a nightmare. You wake with a pained expression across your face, a look of panic as you gasp for breath. You look at him in shock almost as if you didn’t recognise him, as if you were trying to place him in the reality your mind created.

“You’re real,” you whisper. The haunted look in your eyes disappears as they water.

He doesn’t have a second to question it before you’ve buried your head into his chest sobbing. It takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t say anything, only holding you closer in his arms.

—

“They come into my territory, they take my girl,” he seethes, blood dripping from his hands as he takes the cloth from Zelo to wipe them. “No fucker makes it out alive.”

The body on the floor, cut to pieces, a scream written in its dead eyes, is left behind as they make their exit. Death marches with flanks of his men behind him, not breaking stride as they collect their weapons.

“Hoseok it feels like a trap,” the voice of reason, Krystal looks between him and Zelo in concern, willing him to think it through before he walked into disaster. “What if she’s already-”

The gun clicks before its placed pointing at his cousin's head, a moment of shock between his men at the action. Krystal can see red in his eyes like never before, but she knew it was his rage that made him act, the gesture empty, other than to get her to shut up. 

“What do you want me to do if she is?” he grits his teeth in reply. “Let them live?”

“Think it through at least.”

“We don’t have time,” he snaps, an army of vans stopping in front of them as his men climb in, watching the pair wearily. Zelo stands closest to them, ready to step in if needed. It wasn’t the first time they both got into it, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his friend place a gun to his cousin’s head. Family came first for Hoseok, and before his own blood, you were family first. 

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Krystal continues calmly. “Lee was terrified of these people, more than he was of you.”

He refuses to argue any further, climbing into the black out vehicle, slamming the door in her face. 

—

He gave you something, that was the last coherent thought you had. The walls were moving, dancing in a mocking way around you. He let you out of your restraints, why would he do that? Where was the door? Where did it go? If you could just stop the world spinning under you, you could escape again, you could go back to Hoseok and be happy. That’s all you wanted.

You stumble in your steps, almost falling like a newborn foal, losing balance every second you stood. What the fuck did he give you? You hear a loud creak, like the sound of iron breaking, it came from somewhere, or everywhere. Light surrounds you, rectangular in shape, multiple windows of light, like you were in a house of mirrors. Something told you not to walk to it, an old saying that scrambled in your brain, something about an end of a tunnel, stay away from the end of it, don’t go into the light. But it seemed, because you did not approach it, Death would approach you. A figure of black, hidden in the shroud of the golden gates behind him steps towards you.

He came for you. Your blood runs cold, an icy air coming through the door of death along with the silhouette. He opened the door to the afterlife, only to come back for you. You shudder, walking back as he approaches quickly, catching you off guard. You scream, hands coming in front of you, extended like a shield as he tries to embrace you, to take you with him.

“G-go b-back to hell,” you beg, crying out in fury and despair. This wasn’t fair, how many times did you have to kill him, before he stayed dead. 

Hoseok watches the tears streaming down your face, shocked into freezing in front of you, the look of terror on your face breaking his heart. What had they done to you that made you hate him? 

“No!” you yell at the top of your lungs as he takes another step, crouching to the floor with your arms around your head. 

All he can hear are your cries and his heavy breathing, the noises of the onslaught outside not reaching his ears. Whatever you felt for him, it didn’t matter, he had to get you out.

“Y/n,” he breathes but it only causes you to shake. He tries to reach for you but you back away, falling to the floor. He can feel his own tears well up, his soul crushing from the way you’re rejecting him. This was why he never wanted to tell you, he never wanted you to look at him with that fear in your eyes. 

“Baby we need to leave,” he tries to say softly.

“W-why aren’t you d-dead?” Your voice cuts him into pieces, a burning hatred in your eyes. “F-fuck yo-ou, if you t-think I’m going down without a fight.”

He frowns at your words, unable to understand what the hell was going on. You look like a wild animal backed into a corner, the limbs trembling as the agitation inside of you grew. 

“I killed y-you once, I can f-fucking do it again!” 

You lunge at him, taking him by surprise as he falls to the ground, your hands around his throat as you straddled his body. You’re strong, but he's able to remove you by the wrists when he recovers, pulling you off of him but it only results in you kicking and screaming.

“I killed you!” You wail as he tries to restrain you from hurting either of you. “Why? Why!”

“Angel,” he tries to placate you, holding you against him, realising you were out of your mind to no fault of your own. That bastard gave you something. “Angel, it's me, angel it's me!”

“I’ll kill myself before I ever let you touch me again you bastard!” You push against his chest with all your might, it takes every ounce of his strength to keep you still, sniffling as he hears the anguish in your cries. You try everything, you fight, you beg, you scream, but he waits patiently, knowing the clock was ticking.

“Boss!” Zelo runs into the room, blood covering his suit as he catches you both on the floor, you struggling against him as if your life depended on it. 

“They’ve given her something,” Hoseok explains, unable to stop his own tears shedding in front of his right hand man. 

“I’ll get the sedation,” is all he says before he tries to run out of the room.

“You don’t know what he’s given her, you can’t sedate her,” Krystal’s voice stops him as she enters to witness the scene. “Hobi you’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Look at how she’s fighting him, what if he loses control over her?” Zelo argues before Hoseok has a chance to speak.

“You can overdose her, you dumbass!” she shouts back.

“We sit here until it passes.” 

They both stare in shock at their leader’s instruction.

“Boss, we’re sitting ducks if we wait,” Zelo knows they’re running out of time. It was a fair fight outside of this room, he honestly didn’t know whether they were going to win this.

“We’ll guard the door,” Krystal for once doesn’t question him. “She’s going to tire soon, look.”

She was right, your punches and kicks were becoming feeble, your words turning into incoherent mumbles. 

“We need to take her to a hospital,” Krystal states, her gun out as she looks into the corridor. 

Hobi looks at your face, your eyelids were becoming heavy, but your breathing became shallow. 

“Just k-kill me Midas,” you whisper, becoming more and more drowsy. “Let me be free.”

He picks you up off the floor, the fight in you dulled as if you had accepted your fate. Krystal and Zelo flank him as he carries you out of this Hell. Your captor, nowhere to be seen.

—

Death was warm, but it was painful. Why did it have to be so painful? You thought that misery was for the living, but maybe you were wrong. Your brows crease as you become aware again, feeling like you had just drowned and resurfaced. The light is too bright, you thought when you reached the end of the tunnel there would be something behind it, but when you opened your eyes you were blinded by it. 

You gasp at the familiar figure standing above you, tears rushing to your eyes as your thoughts jump to the only conclusion plausible; Hobi was dead too.

“No,” you shake your head, unable to believe it, your bottom lip trembling. You didn’t want him to die too.

It's when he holds your hand your thoughts begin to unscramble, looking around you. You’re on a bed, you’re hooked up to so many machines, an IV drip, the walls are white, and based on the evidence you finally conclude correctly, you’re not dead. 

You made it out of Hell a second time.

The silence is stifling, the stare you’re caught in catching your breath. He looks so tired, so worn out, how long were you unconscious for? 

“Marcus?” you ask hoarsely, unwilling to let yourself feel any relief until you knew the state of your haunting past.

Hoseok frowns, eyes on the bruises on your neck. He shakes his head, unable to find his voice. 

“He’s going to come after me again,” you tell him, accepting your fate.

Hoseok lifts your hand to his lips, sealing them in a promise to your skin.

“They’ll never touch you again angel,” he swears, a thousand of his men were hunting the bastard down, every airport was filled with his syndicate, every corrupt official he had in his books involved. No one comes to Jung Hoseok’s country and hurts his girl. 

“You don’t know what he’s like,” you whisper, watering eyes staring up at him. You try to sit up, using him for support as his arm comes around you to help. 

“It doesn’t matter what he’s like, he’s in my territory,” his words are harsh, but his actions soft as he fluffs the pillows behind you. This was Seoul’s biggest criminal mastermind? You almost smile.

“You must think I’m a hypocrite,” you can’t meet his eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t tell you?”

He stiffens for a second. You watch him out of the corner of your sight carefully as he sits on the bed beside you, leaning towards you. You close your eyes when he kisses your temple, unable to help the tears that fell.

“I suspect it’s a similar reason to my own angel,” his forehead rests against your own before he pulls away. Your hand grabs his before he can move any further apart, stifling back your sobs. You both loved each other so much, but were so scared, and that fear tore you both apart. You didn’t want that anymore, you wanted everything out in the open, all the cards on the table, only then could you decide the date of your relationship and your future. 

“My dad owed some nasty people money he couldn’t afford to pay back,” you confess, your throat constricting heavily as you recall the memories, you have to swallow the emotions down. “One night, we were all sleeping and they tore the door down demanding their repayment…

He didn’t have it, so they-“

He watches you release a shaky breath, your hands trembling as your eyes watered quickly, little drops of tears escaping before you could hold them back. Hobi tells you with his eyes you didn’t need to carry on, but you want to tell him.

“I found out later it was their MO,” you whisper, a breath of humourless pained laughter escaping you like the mad woman you were. “They lent money to those who couldn’t afford it, came down on them like bricks, because there was so much more money in trafficking women, and this way their collection was justified.”

You shiver, a chill bursting through your spine, the ghosts of the past walking over your grave.

“I got sold to some bad people.”

He can see the past haunt your eyes, the way they became hollow as they watched it all unfold again, a purgatory you couldn’t escape from mentally even though you had physically.

“A man who brought women as trophies, he called us his wives, as if there was some honour in it,” the laugh that you emit has his bones shivering, as it ends your bottom lip trembles, the tears returning as he watches you cry, the sight clutching his heart and squeezing it painfully. “Killed us in cold blood if we didn’t behave, but we were already dead with what he made us do, with what we had to see.”

You choke on a sob, shaking your head, closing your eyes as if it would erase your past. But nothing took away the scars they left you with.

“Every time he lashed out, he would leave us to die. We tried so hard to heal each other, stitch the cuts, disinfect the wounds, but sometimes we were too late,” you remembered every face, every single empty body whose soul escaped, and you felt disgusted with yourself that at the time, you envied that they were free, that their torutre was over. “There were rumours that I was next, I had pissed him off too many times. So I did what I had to to survive, I couldn’t think of anything else other than I was not going to be next. I was not going to be some nameless body they found washed up in the river.”

He pulls you into his arms, unable to stand the sight of you like this, unable to stand the fact you had suffered and he didn’t know. He could do nothing to make them pay, nothing to heal you, no amount of guns and force was going to fix this. It killed him to think, all those years you were together, he had no clue.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes into your hair, rocking you slowly as you wept. 

—

Girls like you were merely lambs made for slaughter. A mere lamb that had bit the hand that fed it, how ungrateful were you to turn your back on everything his family provided? A roof over your head, food, a heavy hand to keep you in line, what more did a mongrel like you want? 

How did you, a mere weak bitch, best his son and manage to escape from his wrath? It angered him, but for the sake of his survival he would have to return another time. The number of his mob had depleted after the kingpin’s attack, how he found you he had no clue. He was just about to start his next session with yourself before the alarms blared, realising it was a mistake to leave you on your own as he waited for the hallucinogen to take effect. That one blunder meant he had to leave you behind, barely managing to escape himself. 

The overhanging screen in front of his seat changes again, another hour delay to his flight. He frowned, the other planes were leaving on time… A quick glance around him has his instincts turn to overdrive. The busy bodies around him had thinned, only a handful of civilians remaining. He stares at the woman in white, the large hat on her head doing nothing to conceal the glance she made his way. His back goes up, these weren’t civilians. He had been so wrapped up in his loss he didn’t realise he himself was being herded to the slaughterhouse. 

Being as inconspicuous as possible he rises from his seat, pretending to search for the sign for the toilet before moving in that direction. No gun, he had to dispose of it, he’d have to do this the old fashioned way, lure them to him. 

He takes off his tie as he steps closer to the door, knowing his onlookers were moving towards him. He kicks the door as he enters, turning back to it with the tie in his hands ready. Seconds turn into a minute, but he waits patiently. One minute turns to five, the adrenaline trying to fizzle out of his system as if there was no danger, as if he were paranoid. But if that was the case, why was this bathroom empty?

His stance is firm, sounds of movement finally coming through the door before it's silent once more. The moment has him tense, but he knows he can take them. The door slams open, but it isn’t a body; its two small explosives hurled into the room. The bang of the grenades disorientates him, smoking and light filling the room as he charges out.

A thousand clicks surround him, everywhere he turns there’s a gun, and behind them, four figures coming towards him. 

“I wouldn’t try anything,” Krystal warns, “there are about a hundred police officers outside all armed.”

She shows him the walkie talkie in her hand with a sly grin, the message clear, They owned everyone, there was no escape for him. This was finally the end. 

“The Jung Hoseok I assume,” Marcus eyed the man beside you excluding complete control. “How did this bitch wrap you around her fing-”

His sentence is cut short by a scream from his own mouth, dropping to the floor as the bullet cuts through his shin. He watches the smoking gun being handed to your palm, a look shared between you and the syndicate leader, it made him sick. 

You had the audacity to step towards him, the barrel pointed to his head. You don’t need the support but Hoseok stands behind you, hands on your arms, a kiss to your head, a whisper. 

It had made him laugh when the detective told him that this man called you an angel, it made him realise how pathetic you all were, how blind. But of course a devil like Jung Hoseok would think a demon such as yourself was anything but a monster. 

You can see the hate in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils as he looked at you in disgust. It killed you previously, you feared that look, but with Hoseok beside you, you didn’t anymore. You made it out alive.

“I would love to extend your pain and your suffering,” you say to him. “But I just want this to be over.”

The gun clicks.

“I’ll see you in hell.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Taglist : @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @scuzmunkie @girlinthemikrokosmos @semireads @yiyi4657 @illnevertrustmyselfagain @portia-bts @taeyongzodiactwinkiri @teampaul @skattwang @woderfulkawaii @danietoww04 @daydreambrliever @zahraaelamira @toriluvsfics 

[ellytraoflight]

this is a remix of the My Last Life AU by @opera25 ​! In which: Bdubs, thrown into a death game and plotting murder in a snow fort, dreams of normal life with his best friend. A life which consists of cats, coffee, and an apartment that’s broken but not cold.

~

The walls shudder as Bdubs slams the front door. A mistake, he realizes belatedly—their window’s still broken, and they can’t afford to damage the structural integrity of their apartment more than it already is. They’d called the landlord weeks ago, and still nothing!

“Rough day?” A voice calls from the room to the right.

“Ha!” Bdubs scoffs. “As if I have rough days!” Bdubs lets his bag drop onto the footstool—god, he’s tired.

“You didn’t come in shouting, ‘Honey, I’m home!’” A laptop closes. Bdubs turns to see Etho poking his head out the doorway, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“It’s just the usual,” Bdubs sighs. No cat in the chair. He sits down in relief, couch creaking as it takes his weight. “Work. I probably can’t be late anytime soon, though.”

Etho hums in acknowledgement, and the weight on the couch shifts as he joins Bdubs. “Well, I’d hate to see them rob you of your beauty sleep.”

“Hey, I need my sleep! Sleep is very important!”

“Sure, Bdubs.”

“It is!” Bdubs finds himself relaxing into the usual banter. It’s enough to take his mind off the fact that he can’t control if or when his car is going to break down again. “How do you feel about bumping movie night up to tonight?”

“Uh…” Etho squints in a way Bdubs knows to mean he’s checking his mental schedule. “Yep, that works. Want to order pi— shoot.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed Pineapple Pizza.”

Bdubs cackles. His feet are still sore when he stands back up on them, and he stretches, feeling his back pop. “I’ll feed her, you order pizza tonight. And that means you’re paying!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Etho huffs as he pulls out his phone.

The steps are routine: a few spoonfuls of wet cat food into Pineapple Pizza’s bowl, and he lets her eat the extras off the spoon when she begs for it. Pulling down the projector screen, Etho moves to set up the movie on his laptop. He piles the blankets onto the couch and buries himself beneath them—and steals the mossy one from Etho, of course.

Etho always wears the exact same expression every time Bdubs pulls this move: brows up, eyes blown wide, like every time is the first; like he can’t believe the audacity Bdubs has to steal his most precious possession.

“That’s the best one!”

“And I took it, fair and square!”

It really is unfortunate that they both have the same favorite blanket. Etho likes the blanket because it’s green. Bdubs likes it because it’s funnier when Etho doesn’t have it.

A hint of a grin in the crinkle of Etho’s eyes is all the warning Bdubs has before the blanket is yanked from Bdubs’ grip.

“Hey!” Bdubs shouts, cold and blanket-less. “Give it back!”

“Finders keepers,” Etho smirks, “losers weepers.”

Bdubs curls up on the edge of the couch, attempting to look as cold and blanket-less as possible. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he hears Etho sigh as he drapes the blanket over him once again.

“Alright,” Etho says as he settles under the other end of the blanket, which is perfectly big enough for both of them, “are we continuing our run of ‘The Office’?”

“Psh, of course.”

Bdubs feels his eyelids get heavy on the second episode, after the pizza is consumed and the plates disposed of. He’s never understood how Etho can stay awake forever if he wants to—once it’s past 10, ol’ Bdubs is out like a light. It helps that the projector screen shines just dim enough, the volume just soft enough, Etho’s snarky comments familiar enough for him to shut his eyes for a second or two, his head falling to the side. He has to be up early tomorrow, but tomorrow is a long time away, and he keeps forcing himself awake to savor the moment a little bit longer. Awake, awake—

Bdubs opens his eyes with an axe two inches from his face.

He screams, flailing back to get away get away. The world twists as he loses balance, his legs tangled in the blanket, and he’s falling— arm grasping for the armrest— what the hell—

“Aw, the Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!” cheers his intruder. The sunlight glints off his tactical gear, off his bandana, off his freshly-sharpened axe.

“I’ve been awake!” The adrenaline kicks in fast, and Bdubs’ eyes dart around the room—windows are sealed, door locked. Limbs tangled in the woolen sheets, not a hint of green in sight. “I knew about that the whole time, I was just testing you!”

“Uh-huh,” Etho says. He hangs his sharpened axe back on his belt, where it sits like an omen. He sits down on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, and Bdubs is breathing but it feels like there’s no air in his lungs. Which week is it? He can’t quite recollect Etho’s placement on The List this time, which is— bad. Very bad.

“I saw Scar going down the mines this morning,” Etho continues. “I think Magical Mountain could use a little de-magicifying.”

“Yeah,” snarks Bdubs, “A man of science, of course.” Scar falls about… mid-to-high on The List, from what he can recall, based on a comment from Skizz that the self-proclaimed wizard had been gathering lava two nights ago. It’s enough to justify an excursion to Magical Mountain. 

“You know me.”

“Hm.” Bdubs pulls on his chestplate, helmet, leggings, and boots. Hesitating, he glances out the corner of his eye, but— no, Etho’s looking out the window, as far as he can tell. He slips a dagger into his left boot. “Do you think he gives out free samples? Like the ones from Costco?”

Etho cocks his head. “Costco?”

“Nevermind.” Bdubs rifles through the barrel for his bow. Gosh, carrying all these arrows is awful. Maybe if Scar has the Enchanter, they can steal an Infinity enchant—if not the Enchanter itself.

In the morning sun, Etho’s shadow grows long. It poses on the far wall. “You’ve been sleeping in a lot, lately. Even more than usual.”

“Tracking my sleep, now? What are you, some sort of creep?” Bdubs almost reaches out to shove Etho as he heads out the door. He re-routes his momentum to grasp the curtains shut instead. Stupid dreams, with their stupid memories and stupid impulses they implant in his mind.

Etho cackles, “Of course not. I’d hate to see you robbed of your beauty sleep,” and Bdubs freezes under the sudden déjà vu. Before he can fully blink away the visions—memories, dreams, whatever—Etho turns and marches out the door without a backwards glance.

The back is the weakest point, and time is of the essence.

“Yeah, well.” Bdubs doesn’t reach down to his dagger, or his axe, or his bow. Bdubs follows Etho out of the snow fort to murder a man and pillage his home. “They’ve been good dreams.”

[mackenzielovee]

Hi, I loved crazy love. Literally I become obsessed, so I was wondering if you could write something about them when they are moving to their new apartment near to college and both of their families are helping them to have everything in order, but Rafe only want them to leave to be all alone with you in their new home. Maybe a little bit of smut?

a/n: this idea had my heart bc i'd really been wanting to write something like this ;) i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request!

Warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of planned pregnancy, discussion of sex

crazy love masterlist

my writing

our home: crazy love blurb - rafe cameron

"No, no a little to the left. Ward, are you listening to me?"

You sigh as you set the very last box down on the kitchen counter, stealing a glance at Rafe, who is sitting on your new couch. His head is in his hands as he listens to his parents bicker back and forth, trying to hang up the painting they had bought the two of you. Rose had gushed over it when she bought it, telling you it would match the rest of your decor perfectly.

"Of course, darling. You're talking loud enough," Ward gripes, shifting the painting to the left as Rose demands.

"Oh, come on, now. Back over to the right-"

"It's straight!" Rafe raises his voice, standing up from the couch.

You inhale sharply and step into the living room of your new apartment, wrapping an arm around him to try and calm him down. Ever since his parents and Wheezie arrived with the moving truck to help you both, he's been on edge. When your parents showed up with Macy, you thought he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"Actually, I think it might just be straight," Rose nods, "Good eye, Rafe."

"Thanks so much," he remarks sarcastically.

"Hey," you whisper to him, trying to tell him to quit being mean to his step-mom, "They're here to help, remember?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I could do this shit myself."

"Because you're such a handy man?" you snort.

Rafe clenches his jaw as he looks down at you, but can't help the smirk on his face. He pulls you closer to him, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Where did Macy and Wheezie go? They should start on those kitchen boxes," Rose tells Ward, stepping away from her husband to look for them.

"We can handle the kitchen boxes," Rafe tells her.

"Y/N?" Rose looks to you for a final answer.

You glance up at Rafe only for a second, noting the look on his face, then nod your head in agreement.

"I like the kitchen organized a certain way, anyway," you tell her with a smile.

She nods her head, "All right. Ward and I can start on your sheets-"

"Y/N's parents are taking care of that," Rafe informs her.

Wheezie and Macy come tumbling into the front door, running past all of you and into your bedroom with your parents.

"What the hell are those two up to?" Ward questions.

Wheezie and Macy have become as thick as thieves, the best of friends, over the summer. One day, you'd shown up at Rafe's only to find your sister in her kitchen with Wheezie, baking away. Ever since then, you and Rafe have had to be extra quiet upstairs.

Rose and Ward step toward your bedroom as well, which is down a small hallway just off the kitchen. Rafe grabs your hand and yanks you with him, following the crowd of people.

"Can everyone get out of our bedroom, please?" Rafe grumbles, standing behind his father and watching your parents finish up making your bed.

Your parents had not been crazy about you and Rafe living together right as you both make the transition to college. You had cried, begged, threatened to not go to school, and even dragged Rafe over for a family dinner so all of you could talk the situation out. You'd never seen Rafe's face so red as the night he had to sit at a dinner table and discuss with your father how the two of you would be sleeping in the same bed.

When your parents found out that the Camerons would be financing your rent bill, however, the living situation had changed. Your parents hadn't realized how expensive dorm living is, and the thought of not having to pay for housing on top of tuition sounded like a dream come true.

Which is how you land in your new, empty kitchen, trying to hold Rafe back from killing every family member the two of you currently have within arms reach.

"It's quarter to three," your dad tells your mother over your bed.

"Macy," your mom speaks, "Get your stuff, honey. We have to get going."

"Yeah," Rafe perks up, earning the attention of his parents, "You guys should get moving, too. Y'know, lots of traffic, and Wheezie's got that thing early in the morning."

Wheezie opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly when Rafe gives her the death stare. She looks to you, to which you just shrug, and then turns back to her parents.

"What thing?" Rose asks her. Ward's phone buzzes in his pocket, earning his attention.

"Uh," Wheezie hesitates, looking to Rafe once more.

"Girl scout meeting," Rafe blurts.

You cover your face with your free hand to try and prevent Rose from seeing your laughter. You truly have no idea where Rafe gets this idea that Wheezie is old enough to be in girl scouts. Wheezie narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly.

"Girl scout?" Rose questions to herself, still trying to figure it out when Ward speaks up, eyes still glued to his phone.

"Wheezie, get your stuff. You won't want to be tired in the morning at your meeting."

Wheezie rolls her eyes but does as she's told, making her way out of your bedroom and down the hall to collect her things in the living room.

"Seriously, Rafe?" she hisses, "Girl scouts? I'm fourteen-"

"Shut up, Wheeze," Rafe says back to her through gritted teeth.

Wheezie turns to you, "He's your problem, now."

"Oh, boy, do I know it," you tease Rafe, smiling with Wheezie. She laughs, but it's short lived when Rafe shoves her away.

"Get your shit," he mutters.

"Stop it," you demand, stepping in front of him and holding onto his forearms as they are wrapped around your waist.

The one thing you love about Rafe more than anything is how he always shows affection to you, even if your parents or his parents are around. He just doesn't seem to care about anyone except you.

"I want them to go," he defends himself, keeping his voice quiet, "I just want to be alone with you. In our home. I didn't realize that was such a difficult request."

You smile up at your fussy boy, dragging one hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. You can faintly hear your families moving around the two of you, but you're too lost in your own little world to think too much about it.

"Be patient," you whisper to him.

He smirks, "Will you make it worth my while?"

You give him back the same look, loving the way he smirks at you and allows his eyes to rake over every inch of your face and torso. It takes everything in him not to just grab you by the throat and kiss the hell out of you, only controlling himself because your dad is ten feet away.

"Don't I always?"

Rafe groans, trying his best to keep his composure. He has to close his eyes as he continues to whine, knowing that if he keeps looking at you, he'll be hard in no time.

"All right," Rafe says loudly, tugging himself away from you, "Thanks for coming, everyone, but we have a lot to unpack here. Dad, Rose, Wheezie, I'll show you to the door."

You snicker as you watch him attempt to lead his confused family out the door. You turn to your own family, giving hugs and promising to call whenever you can. Rose refuses to leave without giving you a hug, which pisses Rafe off, as he's gotten Ward and Wheezie out successfully and only needs one more.

Rose promises to send flowers, one that match the color scheme of course, and tells you she'll call you to check on Rafe, since he doesn't bother to return her calls. You give Wheezie a hug and give Ward a polite smile and wave from the doorway.

The second they're all out the door, Rafe slams the door shut and locks it before any of them can decide they forgot something.

"Ah, free at last," you joke.

Rafe turns around, licking his lips as he thinks about how you two finally have an empty house and he has you all to himself. No distractions, no parents, no little sisters listening intently at the door for secrets and drama. He eyes you up and down once, and when he brings his blue orbs to meet yours again, you know what he's thinking.

"Come here," he demands, but he can't help himself.

That boy rushes over to you, pushing you up against the wall in the entryway of your new apartment, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You accept his kiss without a second thought, allowing your hands to wrap themselves around his neck.

"Up," he mutters against your lips, hands guiding themselves to your waist as you jump up and let him position himself in between your legs, wrapping them around his torso.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck, while his hands relentlessly roam your ass.

"Rafe," you say, tilting your neck to give him more space.

"Hmm," he hums against your skin, not stopping or slowing down for anything.

"I really do have to unpack the kitchen if you want to eat dinner tonight," you tell him, although you're fully aware he would never set you down for anything right now.

"Not hungry."

"Rafe-"

"I think," he stops you, wet kisses trailing your collarbone, "We should fuck everywhere. Y'know, break the place in."

Even though you two have been together for a while, him saying things like that to you always seems to send tingles through your whole body. He always knew what to say, what to do, to get you riled up in all the right ways.

"That would take us all night," you whisper, smirking because you already know what he's going to say.

"Fine with me, baby."

You smile, then reach down and grab ahold of his cheek with your hand. You lead his lips back to yours, kissing him harder than you had been before. He moans into your mouth and you know you have him right where you want him now.

"Kitchen first?" he questions, breathless, "Or should we mess up that pretty little bed your parents just made up?"

The raspiness in his voice gets you going, enough for him to notice you squirming in his grip. He grins, knowing exactly what it is you need.

"Kitchen," you tell him, watching as he barely nods before he kisses you again, carrying you over and setting you on the counter.

With ease, he removes your shorts and underwear, dropping his own shorts to the floor beneath him. He kicks all of the clothes away, knowing the two of you won't be needing them for a very long time.

"I can't wait, baby," he mumbles, excusing his lack of foreplay.

You shake your head, and he already knows you don't mind based on the way you're dripping onto the granite, "Please, Rafe."

He smirks and then grunts as he enters you, breathing out a sigh of relief that you two are finally home.

By the time you and Rafe even make it to your bedroom, he has to carry you because your legs can't physically function anymore. Rafe's proud of his work, but pretended to pout when he finished you off on the couch and you told him you needed a break.

He lays you down on your new, freshly made bed, moving the pillows out of your way and tucking you underneath the duvet. He climbs in beside you and molds you into his body almost instantly, inhaling your shampoo scent and perfume, thinking about how perfect this moment truly is.

"I can't believe it," he whispers.

"I know."

"Our home."

"Yes, it is."

You two lay there for a while, staring out at the tens of boxes that have each of your names written on them, just begging to be unpacked. You're sure Rafe's boxes will still be sitting there in two weeks, as he had packed a separate duffle bag of his 'essential' belongings.

"You know," he starts after a while, a devious smirk finding it's way to his cheeks, "The next big step is having a mini you. Or a mini me. But, I'd rather have a mini you."

"We just moved into our college apartment and you're talking about impregnating me," you laugh, as if to ask him if he's serious.

"She'll be so cute," he goes on, "A little girl that looks just like you. And she'd have your smarts, thank God, because she'd be screwed with mine. But she'd have my humor, of course."

"Of course?" you tease him.

"And then we'll have a boy."

"Wow, Rafe Cameron, you really just have this all figured out," you move your head up to look at him, noting the small, cheesy smile plastered across his face.

"I do, baby. He'll be a hellion, though. Never listening, always running away, but a total momma's boy. Never wants you to leave his side-"

"So, just like his dad, then?" you grin, watching Rafe clench his jaw and shake his head.

"Break's over," he grunts, rolling you on your back and climbing on top of you, "We're trying, now."

"No, we're not," you say forcefully.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I'm joking. We'll wait until, like, junior year or something."

"Rafe."

"Fine. But the second you walk across that stage with your diploma, I'm putting a baby in you."

"Deal."

Tags:

@hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

[lovetorn]

babysitter [roommate!dream au]

Roommate!Dream x Fem!Reader

summary: you babysit tommy. do i need to explain?

warnings: swearing

w/c: 1.4k+

a/n: thank u 🧋 anon, u are amazing. i hope i did justice for ur amazing idea hahaha 😫hope u guys enjoy!

roommate!dream masterlist

—

“Please, Y/n! It’ll only be for a few hours, just while I do my exam, and then I’ll be back. That’s all! I promise, please.”

You’d never heard Wilbur beg like this before. It is kinda funny. You stand with a smirk as you watch him, your arms crossed over your chest. Yes, you’ve babysat his brother before, but this time, your plans for lunch with your friends were being jeopardised.

“I’ll call Niki and Karl myself and tell them the situation, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Wilbur pleads. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and you guarantee they’re going to fall off in the next 2 seconds. Obviously, you’re going to babysit for him, but this is too funny to pass up.

“I don’t know, Wil. I planned this weeks ago… I’m not sure I can cancel this late…” You try your best not to smile. But, Wilbur isn’t silly, he can see through your act from a mile away.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, shaking your shoulders. You give him an incredulous look and then laugh.

“You owe me one, Tommy isn’t easy to babysit,” You giggle, knowing all too well how he acts when his family isn’t around. Wilbur nods.

“Yeah, yeah, anything. I’ll buy you breakfast for the next month.”

Your eyebrows fly to your forehead. “I'm holding you to that, Wilby.”

And so it was decided: Tommy would come to your apartment at 1 pm and be there until 4. You told Dream you were having a guest over, sparing the details, which made Dream a little suspicious. He really hoped it wasn’t a date—no, it couldn’t be a date.

But, when he hears a knock on the front door, and then the murmur of deep voices, he thinks of the worst. Dream gets up from his bed and presses his ear to his bedroom door, hoping to get any clues as to who is at the door. He knows this is the dumbest thing he’s done since he moved in with you, but he can’t help it. The door shuts and then it’s silent and Dream thinks that maybe the person left.

Meanwhile, you lead Tommy into your room. “Want any food or anything?” You ask as you watch him jump onto your bed and grab the TV remote off of your nightstand.

“No,” He says, fingers flying over the remote to turn the TV on, change the channel, turn the volume up, change the channel again, and then press the button for Netflix. You don’t mind that he’s made himself at home in your room, he’s gonna be here for 3 hours.

“I would like a Slurpee though,” You squint at him. He can’t be serious. Before you can say anything, he continues. “Thanks, Y/n. you’re the best.”

You give him a fake scowl for sucking up to you and sigh. “Fine. I’ll be back in a second.”

You don’t want to ask Dream to go to the corner shop and get Slurpees, but you’d rather ask him to do that than ask him to watch Tommy.

“Dream?” Pushing open his bedroom door, you see him spin around.

“Hey, hi, what’s up?” Dream hopes he isn’t being weird.

He’s being weird and you don’t know why. You hold onto the door handle and inhale sharply. “Uh, I was just wondering if you could go to the corner store for me? Just really quickly, I’ll give you the money.”

Oh shit, Dream thinks. She’s making me go buy condoms for her and her date. “I—Uh, sure, yeah. What am I getting?” He asks, sliding his feet into his Birkenstocks and shoving his phone into his back pocket. Please don’t say condoms.

“A Slurpee,” Thank god.

“Ok, flavour?”

You turn your head to look back at your bedroom door before you look back at him, a puzzled look on your face. “All of them?”

Dream nods slowly. “Okay?” You two stand in silence momentarily and then Dream ushers you out of his room. “Ok, I’ll be back in 5.” You hand him a few dollars and then make your way back to your room.

“Thank you, Dream! I owe you one, thank you,” You smile, pushing your door open and then closing it immediately. Dream barely smiles and grumbles as he leaves.

“Your delivery will be here in like 6 minutes minimum,” You say. Tommy snickers but doesn’t look at you. You cross your arms over your chest.

“What’s funny?”

Tommy shrugs. “I don’t know. I just think it’s funny that your roommate is willing to do that for you. Must like you a lot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I’d do the same for him.”

“Him? Woah-ho-ho, that changes the game,” Tommy sits up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s his name? I bet you’re like, in love with him.”

You immediately shake your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “No~, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The room remains still.

“You totally love him.”

“Tommy!”

Then there’s a knock on your bedroom door. You throw your middle finger up at Tommy and tell him to behave before you open the door.

“Here’s your disgusting Slurpee,” Dream mumbles, shoving the cup into your hands. He's a little out of breath from running but doesn't show it.

“Thank you,” You smile. Dream nods and then turns around, but before he can take a step, a voice calls out from behind you.

“Is that the roommate?” Tommy laughs. “Come in here, roommate.” You want to slap him.

Dream looks over his shoulder at you and you shrug. He wears a concerned look as he enters the room and is surprised to see Tommy, obviously.

“Y/n, why do you have a child in here?” Ok, definitely NOT a date.

You have no time to answer before Tommy speaks.

“I’m being babysat and shit,” Tommy rolls his eyes. Your hand is getting cold from the drink so you hand it to Tommy. “Fuck yeah,” He then flops onto your bed again, not caring if he spills some of the sugary liquid onto your bedspread and presses play on the movie he’s watching.

“Stay in here, roommate, we have some business to discuss.”

You shake your head and close the door behind you as Dream perches on the edge of your bed.

“I'm Dream.” He greets.

Tommy nods and looks in your direction, winking overdramatically. “Tommy. Master of women.” Dream scratches his forehead and glances at you. You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, whispering to Tommy to shut the fuck up.

“Movie time! We’re watching Sex/Life,” You are bewildered.

“Um, no we’re not!” Moving to snatch the remote from Tommy, you lean your body over Dream’s and see the mischievous look in the child’s eye. You know what he’s doing—could he seriously make this any more awkward?

“Let’s skip to 19 minutes and how many seconds?” Tommy teases, skipping ahead to the timestamp of the scene that went viral. Tommy’s laugh is maniacal, but you are more worried about the position you’re in. Dream’s hands rest in his lap and he looks at the ceiling, while your body leans over his. You don’t know if Tommy is laughing more at the show or the tension between you and Dream.

Finally, you grab the remote and throw it into the chair in the corner of your room. “You are a nightmare, Thomas.”

“Ha, get it, because I’m a nightmare, but he’s Dream, who must be a dream.”

You and Dream groan at his shitty joke and tell him to shut up.

“Anywho, so what’s up with you two?” Tommy smirks. You and your roommate make eye contact, both blushing before looking back at Tommy. He can practically see the tension in the room.

“Nothing.” You say simultaneously. This makes Tommy grin and hum.

Ignoring him, Dream takes refuge on the chair in the corner, looking to you to see how you’re going to handle this situation—however, he can’t help but shamelessly check you out whilst you’re not paying attention to him. He knows it's a dumb thing to do, especially when Tommy is sitting there and has no filter.

You stay speechless in the middle of the room, eyeing Tommy. You didn’t expect babysitting to be so difficult.

“You’re staring, big man.”

You whip around to face Dream and see that the comment makes his cheeks flush a deep red. Your eyes widen and then Dream's up and out of your room. “Bye.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy!” You say, embarrassed. You look back to see Dream’s door closing and you want to kick Tommy, so bad. “Ugh, you make everything so awkward! I hate you.”

“I hear that a lot, it’s a compliment at this point.”

And when Wilbur comes to pick Tommy up, you shove him out the door and swear that if Wilbur breaks his promise about breakfast every day, he's gonna be in deep shit.

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

[skinnyducky]

lullaby (pt. 2 to cherry) // v.h.

This part went through so many changes. Originally, they weren't getting back together but I ultimately decided for Y/n to take Vinnie back because I'm a sucker for happy endings and second chances. Kinda came out longer than I wanted it too, but meh. This part is heavily inspired by the song "Lullaby" by Mariah Carey. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

link to part 1

Word Count: 2219, unedited

WARNING: language, mentions of partying, alcohol, drugs, and a very fluffy yet cheesy ending.

---------

It had been a few months since you and Vinnie had bid your goodbyes. Within those months, you were doing great. You had aced your first semester classes, you just moved into your apartment, and you were at the highlight of your life. The only thing you lacked was someone to bask in the happiness with. To say you missed Vinnie was an understatement, but you were too prideful to actually tell yourself that.

You tried dating again, but no one could hold a candle to your Vinnie. Plus, you hadn’t been keeping up with him on social media or anything, so you didn’t know if he had moved on and forgotten you. You didn’t want to reopen old wounds, so you refrained from contacting him.

But little did you know, not a day went by that Vinnie didn’t think about you. He constantly thought about what he did, beating himself up for even having the thought of another girl while he was with you. But he didn’t know what to do. Your relationship was dying, and none of you bothered to even talk about it. So, to him, he thought there was nothing that he could do…thus causing him to do what he did. Thankfully, he didn’t go too far with the girl, but still…he knew what he did was terrible.

Dating for him was pretty much impossible. Much similar to your situation, there was no one who could fill your shoes. The way you danced around in his head during the day and ruled his dreams at night…no one could do that for him. You were one of a kind, and with as many offers he got, he was torn that none of them were from you. He was a funk…a really bad one.

His friends and housemates took notice of this and being the best friends they were, they decided to drag him out of the house and to a party at Triller Compound because that’s what every heartbroken friend needed when they’re down. To be surrounded by booze, loud music, and sweaty people…oh yeah, that’s what he definitely needed right at this moment.

“C’mon, at least smile a little bit.” Alex said, looking back the upset boy through the rearview mirror.

“Smile about what? Going to some party that I didn’t even want to go to.”

“You seriously need to get over, Y/n.” Thomas sighed, turning to Vinnie from the passenger seat. “What happened between to you two happened for a reason. You just gotta let it go.”

Mia scoffed from beside Vinnie and slapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Thomas, it’s not that easy!”

“I’m just saying, if it were me, I wouldn’t be all upset and everything.”

“So, you’re saying if we broke up…you wouldn’t be sad?” Mia responded sharply, obviously joking.

Thomas nearly choked, looking back at his girlfriend. “I-I’m not saying that. I mean, if…it’s just that…it’s different, okay. He cheated.”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Mia rolled her eyes and turned to Vinnie. “Don’t listen to him, okay. It was your relationship, and sure you messed it up, but…you still can be sad about it. I think.”

Vinnie huffed and stayed silent, no bothering to listen to anyone. He didn’t need people reminding him of his mistakes, that was the whole reason why he was being a downer. He just couldn’t forgive himself. There were no ounce of words or speeches that anyone could give him that would make him feel better. This was just something that he’d have to get over with time.

It was only minutes before they pulled up to the packed mansion and stumbled out of Alex’s car, Vinnie being the last out. He watched as his friends rushed to the house before heading inside. Upon entering the house, scenes of people grinding and drinking came into his sights. The sound of trap music filled his ears as the strong stench of weed brushed across his nose. He sneered before walking to the backyard. He scanned the area for any sober person he knew, hoping to find someone to complain about his situation to.

As he searched, his eyes landed on a familiar head of y/h/c hair. He furrowed his brows, trying to get a better view of the person. “That can’t be who I think it is,” he thought to himself as he moved in closer.

That was when you looked to side, and he caught a glimpse of your profile. His heart nearly stopped beating the minute he saw your face. He breathed hitched in his threat as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. He never thought he’d see you again, yet here you were…just a few feet away from him. He had forgotten the fact that you two had mutual acquaintances, so it came to no surprise that you’d come to this party.

Vinnie watched as you threw you head back in laughter at something one of your friend’s said. There wasn’t much he could do but stare at you. He didn’t know what to do. It’d be risky to even think you’d want to talk to him, so he refrained from walking up to you. He didn’t want to bring up painful memories. It was a good thing you hadn’t seen him yet.

---------

“You’re joking!” You smiled. “Come to think of it though, Bryce would be the one to try and drink tequila off your tits.”

Your friend, Y/bff/n snorted, “I know right!? I was like…sir, I am not that kind of a girl. Please have a good night.”

The two of you continued to laugh at her situation before you heard her go silent. You calmed yourself down, looking at her shocked face. Confused, you followed her eyes and turned around to see what had her so shook up. At that moment, your eyes met the very person you had least expected to see tonight…

Vinnie.

He was staring right back at you. The minute he realized you were looking back at him, he nearly freaked out. He attempted to look around, playing as if he hadn’t been eyeing you, but you had already caught him in the act.

“Is that…?”

“Vinnie, yep. That’s him.” You said, placing a hand on your hip. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

Y/bff/n snickered. “It’s a party, Y/n.”

“I know that, but I honestly didn’t expect him to be here tonight.”

You two watched the boy look around frantically and you couldn’t help but smile a bit. You missed him and judging from the sight in front of you…it seemed as if he did too. But still, you were a bit out of the loop. Who’s to say he hasn’t already moved on. You couldn’t intrude on his happiness, that wouldn’t be fair.

“You should go talk to him.” Y/bff/n said.

You looked at her with your eyebrows raised. “You really think so?”

“It’s obvious he’s still into you, babes. And considering the fact you’ve been looking at him with those goo-goo eyes, I think you’re still into him too.”

“I don’t know, Y/bff/n. I mean…what if he’s seeing someone else.”

“There’s no way. If he’s trying that hard to pretend that he wasn’t just staring at you, he’s still hung up on you. And, even if he is seeing someone, that doesn’t mean you can’t just go and talk to him.”

You shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“Atta girl. Oh, and on your way back, make sure you grab me one of those little mini cakes. I’ve been craving one since we got here.”

Rolling your eyes at the foolish girl, you proceeded to leave her side and head over to Vinnie. The moment he saw you, he practically froze. You could tell he was nervous; his awkward stance and wide eyes told it all.

Within seconds, you stood before the boy, a slight grin on your face.

“Hey, Vinnie.” You greeted, placing your arms behind your back.

“Y/n, didn’t see you there!” He laughed. “Well, I did see you there but like, I wasn’t watching you or anything…yeah, totally wasn’t watching you.”

Your smile grew wider. “Yeah, sure. So, how’ve you been?”

“Good, uh…definitely good. You?”

“Um, my classes are going well, and I just got a new place…so, can’t complain.”

“That’s dope, Y/n. Glad to hear you’re doing good.”

You nodded, looking down at your feet. “Same to you. I’m sure you’re, y’know…enjoying everything with your girlfriend.”

Vinnie looked at you with a puzzled expression, your statement taking him back a bit. To be honest, he couldn’t be surprised that you thought he’d be taken by now because he thought the same about you. However, at the same time, with the way he was acting right now, he was shocked you didn’t realize he was still head-over-heels for you.

“I don’t, um…I’m not seeing anyone.”

You grinned to yourself, trying to keep your cool as you tilted your head at him. “I’m sorry, I just thought you’d be with someone.”

“It’s fine. I definitely get it. To be honest, I thought you’d be here with someone.”

“Technically, I am.” You replied.

It was at that moment Vinnie felt his heart explode and despair run through his system. He weakly put on a happy face, shooting you a thumbs up.

“That’s g-great.”

“Yeah, Y/bff/n just was dying to come with me. She’s been begging to go to one of these parties, so I thought why not?”

“Oh,” Vinnie breathed, feeling his heart piece itself back together. “So, you’re not seeing anyone?”

You shook your head. “Not right now. I’ve been on a few dates and stuff, but no one has ever made me feel like y-”

You stopped yourself, locking your lips together to keep that last word from leaving your mouth. You didn’t know why, but something in you didn’t want you sharing your feelings with Vinnie. Maybe it was the small ounce of hurt that clung to your heart like a child from Vinnie’s infidelity. Or maybe it was the slight fear that he may not want to get back together. There were so many thoughts in your head, all speaking at once. It was so loud, that you didn’t even catch what Vinnie had said to you.

“…and-…Y/n? You listening?” He tapped you gently, bringing you out of your head.

“Sorry about that. I was in my head for a moment. What were you saying?”

“I was just saying that I’m sorry for what I did. I was just so confused on where we stood in our relationship, not saying that it justifies my actions, but instead of coming to talk to you, I went and…well, did what I did. Believe me, I never meant to hurt you, and I totally understand if you don’t forgive me.”

You sighed, “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t know where our relationship was headed either. Honestly, I was planning to break up with you that night.”

“And I ended up giving you even more of a reason to do so.”

You both laughed before meeting each other’s eyes.

“I wish we had talked about it, y’know? Communicated and all of that suff. It would’ve saved us both a heap of heartache.” You continued. “I can’t lie, even though life has been good, it sucks not being able to share it with you.”

Vinnie smirked, taking your hands in his. “Y/n, ever since we broke up…I haven’t been able to think about anything but you. I hadn’t streamed, I barely left the house…I couldn’t do anything. I just didn’t know how to function without you. You have such a hold over me…I didn’t know how to get over you.”

“I guess this whole goodbye thing really wasn’t a good idea after all.”

“No, I think it was. I think it happened for a reason. That reason being, so we can fall in love all over again.”

At this point, you were a smiling mess and there was nothing you could do to hide it. Vinnie wasn’t any better, you could tell he was in pain by the way he hadn’t stopped showing his pearly whites. It clear to both of you now that you two were still in love, if not more than before.

“That’s so sweet, Vin.” You said. “But also, cheesy. You were always the sappy one in the relationship.”

“As if, Miss Hopeless Romantic. I’m not the one who freaks out over Valentine’s Day.”

“Mmhm, sure you don’t.”

The two of you stood there for minute in silence, your hands entangled, and your gazes planted on each other. It felt good, and it was almost as if all that hurt…that fear…it was completely gone and now replaced with passion and security.

“Y/n, I know you probably have some resentment towards me, but I love you too much to care. So, if you’re willing and there’s enough forgiveness in your heart…I wanna restart, right from the beginning.”

Without much thought or hesitation, you said, “We can restart. For sure.”

“Well, in that case…Hi, I’m Vinnie.”

You smiled as the feeling of love washed over you. To say you were happy was an understatement, you were in paradise. Life was great, and now you had your boy back to share it with.

“Nice to meet you, Vinnie. I’m Y/n.”