#because now that i know how to make gifs that are like slightly good they are SO FUCKING BIG

[soangelbaby]

thinking about giving clark the sloppiest head ever because i don’t see it enough on here ??

“you sure about this?” clark asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. you had offered your throat to him, for him to use and abuse for his own benefit, to make your mouth his own personal fleshlight. it’s not like you hadn’t thought about it—and you know he did, you knew he was afraid of hurting you, but you didn’t care, this was about what you wanted and what you were going to give.

“yes clark, i’ve never been more sure about anything. don’t hesitate now, you had all day to get ready for me.” you sink down to your knees in front of him, his back against the foot of your shared bed. his hands were making patterns on your chin and down your jaw, as if he was savoring how pretty you look before he completely ruins you. he doesn’t respond, he just tilts his chin up, eyes locked on yours and begins undoing his belt. and you can’t help but grin, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. finally, you thought, he was finally going to fuck your face, ruin your pretty little mouth—you could already feel him, the sensation of his nut coating the back of your throat.

“if it’s too much—or i hurt you at all, at any moment, you let me know okay?” he says, his fingers looping into the waistband of his pants as he tugged them down along with his boxers. his dick sprung free, brushing against your lips as it hit his stomach. you immediately reached up to grab him, slowly taking his tip into your mouth. he hisses at the feeling of your soft, warm lips around him, shifting slightly against the bed, his eyes fluttering close and his head tipping back. you knew he was shy, wasn’t used to this, but needed to see how far you could push him, to see if he would completely crumble for you. “can you look at me?” you murmur, before taking all of him into your mouth. clark’s head shot up, his hands flying immediately to grip your hair that was falling in front of your face. “fuck, yeah—yeah baby, i can look at you, you know you look so pretty for me huh?” he pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he wraps it tightly around his fist, tugging slightly.

“mhm—” you moan against him, swirling your tongue around the underside of his dick, feeling the thick veins throbbing as you bob your head up and down. clark pulls your hair tighter, his eyes half lidded as he watches you suck him off with ease, too damn easy, he thought. now, he almost wanted to punish you for it, punish you for getting him here, for taking him so well, he wanted more. his hands slowly traveled to the back of your neck, still gripping your hair around his fist, slowly pressing your head further down onto him. his hips bucked instinctively into your throat and he moaned loudly, “just like that baby—fuuck” you gagged around him, his full length hitting the back of your throat, tears welled up in your eyes, your body heaving forward.

your hands shot up to grip his thighs, pulling back as you tried to catch your breath, “that’s what you wanted right?” clark pants, his hand moving down to wipe the spit pooling at your glossy lips, you nodded quickly—too quickly, although you were taken aback, you hadn’t expected him to just go for it—let alone without a warning, but it was what you wanted, needed from him, to throat fuck you like there’s no tomorrow, like it was his last chance to prove himself. he snickered leaning forward slightly, both of his hands tangling in your hair, “you should get back on there then.” he guides you back down onto him, your plump lips wrapping back around his glistening dick as you took in the sight of him. his crinkled white tee, his pink lips curled into a lazy smirk, his pretty eyes low, his fluffy hair disheveled—gosh, he looked too fucking good, you could feel the feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, soaking through your panties. clark stands up fully, his height insane as he looked down at you causing your breath to hitch in your throat, definitely enough for him to feel it, your throat clenching around him.

“not gonna hurt you baby, but i’m sure you’d love it if i did hm?” clark teases, brushing your hair back out your face. you could feel your lashes flutter at his towering frame over you, you almost looked away—his gaze so piercing and intense, “it’s tempting… you take my dick so well you know that?” he groans, his hips shifting slightly, you hum in response to him, your mouth still working, your head still bobbing, stifled sounds of spit gushing around him. “can’t help but to wanna shove it down your throat, see how much you can really handle…” you take that as a challenge, blinking a few times before taking his throbbing shaft completely down your throat again, but this time clark took control. he didn’t let you pull back immediately, instead he held you there, deep-throating him entirely as you gagged uncontrollably, “shit-shit-shit—” he hissed, his eyes squeezing shut, your nose grazed the hairs at the base of his hips, and you felt him twitch in your mouth, seconds later his cum shot down your throat. you couldn’t swallow—hell, you could barely breathe, you tapped his thigh hopefully hard enough to knock him out his haze, and he perked up like a dog, his eyes wide as he let you go. you immediately gasped, hand shooting up to catch the spit trailing your chin and chest.

“fuck baby, i’m sorry—you know how i get when i—” clark started but you cut him off, “no, it’s okay, i…like it..” you murmur, sniffling a bit, smirking up at him as you sat back on your heels. clark’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red at your words and he scoffed shaking his head, reaching down to cup your face, giving you a deep kiss, “then round two?” he grinned mischievously, a dark glint in his eyes. and you didn’t know if you’d regret this in the morning, but you had a feeling it’d be worth it…

★ rini’s note ; this took me unnecessarily long to finish so the endings a bit rushed HA but grrrr need his dick down my throat bad AND NOT ON NO GENTLE SHIT like damn kill me boy 😒 anyway hope yall luv itt likes + reblogs are so sexy btww

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au) pt. 2

- jihoon x fem!reader - 4.4k words - warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, here comes the hoo-haa!, penetration, mention of pills (ALWAYS use protection!), overstimulation, loud af on bed!jihoon (we love a moaning and whimpering man) goshwhy is needy Jihoon so hot, friends-to-lovers (almost), some fluff here and there. enjoy! - tagging: @cherrylovescheol @syluslittlecrows

[ part one ]

The clothes that once added a sense of thrill to your heated session were now flying across the room. No more game-changers or whatnot, there is a mutual craving to be satisfied and you both wanted it now.

Albeit having your patience tested by the journey home, the kiss you two shared has never been this innocent and slow (not like you two have had so many.) This time felt like something in the air had just shifted, and you two were savoring the newfound connection. His weight on top of yours, lightly, careful not to crush you. Slightly suffocating as your mouth is being occupied but still bearable, it even makes you feel safe and comfortable. Your hands softly treading through his hair until you found a spot to tug onto as he deepens the kiss, dipping his now bare hips to the bare yours.

The hint of contact of his hardened cock to your dripping pussy had you arching your back, almost pulling his hair as you unintentionally broke the kiss. He smirked, trying to hide the hiss he just made and how the contact almost had him exploding as well. You were too wet for his sanity, and he knows it’s because of him, and now only for him.

“So… how would you like to be fucked tonight, princess?”

You choked, almost wanting to slap him for making you laugh, or maybe you weren’t used to him actually calling you princess in ways other than snarky, when he only called you that to mock you for your bratty tendencies.

“I’d like to make it quits. You made me feel like royalty earlier.” He kisses your neck down to your chest.

“Actually, I don’t mind the tempo right now.” You had your eyes close, trying to feel the trail of kisses his supple lips leave onto your shivering skin. “Just don’t tease too much or—”

“Or what?” he smirks once again, this time being a full-time menace, rubbing his dripping tip against your wet folds.

“Fuck you,” you glared at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed from annoyance mixed with lust. “Fuck you, Jihoon.”

“My pleasure, princess.”

Jihoon cannot stop thinking, does edging turn you on? Or you just wanted to take your time? He knows he isn't your first. You had told him about the guy you met in college, a total bastard who left some cash the next morning and a rather sweet note of thanks as if it could console your shattered ego. Or that selfish one who only fucked you for quick satisfaction. And this woman who made you feel so good you almost had a thing for scissors until you realized it was just a spur of the libido confusing your sexuality.

But Jihoon, he never told you he actually never had sex. The workaholic never had a relationship, but somehow you had always thought he must have been getting laid because how on earth could he subtly refer to making love on some of his lyrics if has not had one? The only thing you knew about his sex life was how he actually had his own moments most of the time, just like how he confessed in the studio earlier. Oh and that one time you gifted him a fleshlight as a payback for gifting you a vibrator on your eighteenth birthday because you imposed on him and your group of friends that you will only be accepting useful things for your birthday from then on (that was the first time he called you princess, by the way).

His hand made its way to your abdomen down to your mound, even though his dick was itching to just finish the night off. But like what he said, it’s his pleasure to give you a royalty treatment tonight.

His finger did not need much time to tease your opening, and slips right into your hole with ease. “Jihoon-ah…” you whimpered his name, as his mouth met yours after telling you how tight you were.

His slender finger creating friction with your hole was enough to send you into a moaning mess while his mouth conquers your chest, giving both nipples attention as equals as he can.

“So wet, for me.” Indeed, he was right. You must like edging and keeping your release until you cannot anymore. What a naughty princess, he thinks. Another finger joins in, knowing one cannot stretch you out to his size. 

Jihoon’s is thick, there’s no denying you had your fair share of curiosity about it since you have seen a hint of it when he wears his favorite sweatpants. But of course, you wanted to remain wholesome so you just shrug away some unthinkable thoughts that once crossed your mind, at least that was before the first kiss you two shared. Ever since then, there had been a few times you allowed yourself to think about him when you were horny because, how would it feel, having that kind of feisty relationship with someone you hold close?

“Aren’t you a little too tight?” Beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead and you were unsure if he was just exerting a lot of effort fingering you, or maybe holding himself from jumping into you. He retracts his hand and kisses you again, before slipping his fingers coated in your juice straight into his mouth. He moaned into a lip bite. How come you tasted so sweet, just like how he must have imagined?

He was really down bad and aching for you he did not have any idea he just said that out loud.

“You’ve thought of me?”

“What? Did I…?”

You chuckled at how his eyes went wide, “Yes, you just said that out loud.”

“God I’m fucked…” He mumbled under his breath.

“You can have more,” you told him, widening your legs which signalled him to get in between and he did not waste time thinking if you really just said that, just like how he did not catch himself saying his thoughts out loud.

His mouth was warm, making you feel things and even questioning yourself if you’re doing something so sinful right now, having someone not your boyfriend eating you out while you were arching your back and moaning his name out loud for your neighbors to hear. You can’t help it, his tongue was so good flicking your clit and playing with your hole while sending vibrations through his moans, all the while staring at you with hooded eyes like was trying to engrave that image of you writhing under his spell in his mind to become a memory he would like to go back to anytime he wanted to. Oh, you’re just so glad he is just married to his work and nobody else. 

There were tears in your eyes already, trying to hold back the impending release. He was just so naturally talented at eating you out that you did not realize you were humping his mouth wanting for more. Jihoon, who has been really attentive throughout the night, tried to increase intensity when he heard your moans pitching higher, turned airy as if you were losing your voice to the nirvana you surrendered yourself into.

“Jihoon, I’m close… fuck…” his fingers once again made contact with your hole, fucking your spot as his tongue focused its pressure on your clit. The stimulation was too much taht you began seeing white at the back of your eyes, and not long enough you were clenching around his fingers.

“Go on, come for me,” amid the clouding of your hearing, you heard Jihoon’s voice sounded hoarse, which made you feel even hotter causing you to squirm and finally release your cum.

He was quick to slurp you clean of your release, humming at every sip as if it was his favorite drink. Not even coke zero can make him moan the way your taste quenches his thirst for you.

He then wipes his mouth with his arm, “I can have that all day,” he hisses and proceeds to make your mouth his again, tasting yourself in the process. It was wild, you thought, you’ve never really tasted your own even though you had been curious before. And now you just had to, straight from your friend’s delectable tongue.

The kiss once again turns somewhat slow, as you calm yourself from your high while he preserves his energy for perhaps another round if you’re not too tired enough. Anyway, his cock is still hard. It's like a never-ending cycle now because you wanted him to come, a testament to the kind of relationship you have—a very generous one. 

“I like how you kiss me…” you blurted all of a sudden. “They feel like… confessions I have never gotten.”

His eyes meet yours, a gaze like a thousand stars have been sucked inside it. It was one you’ve rarely seen him with, one which only comes out when he talks about how proud he is of the current song he is working with, or that one time you two had hours of debate over the best animes you have ever watched.

“Never gotten? Or never taken?” he wanted to ask, rhetorically that is, but his lips never moved, nor his voice made even a minute of a sound. He’d rather kiss you again, and tell you more of the words that had stayed hidden behind the walls of his mouth. He’d rather have his tongue tied for now, if it means with yours and let his actions speak. Even if you won’t still get it.

He liked the way you kissed him too, if only he could tell. He liked how your mouth synchronizes with his, and moves in perfect harmony. He liked how you get sloppy sometimes when you are trying to catch your breath, or how you adjust when it is him who gets messy because his mind just can’t control his speed. Or how you moan inside his mouth, warm breath enveloping his wet cavern that sends electricity throughout his body. He liked the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours, but even more so when they’re just simply dancing to the rhythm of his heartbeats.

Lost in thoughts, he did not realize you had him toppled over until he felt your hand over his chest, and your damp folds grazing against his girth.  “Ah fuck…” both of you chorused, making him chuckle.

“If you want it so bad…”

“Yeah, acting as if you weren’t the one who almost broke my door coming here.” you rebutted, rolling your eyes.

“It got stuck!”

“It’s extra protection!”

“Oh shit, now that you said it” he suddenly perks up, “I almost forgot,” he says squandering about to get to his pants, flailing to the air a foil packet he had been keeping in his wallet. 

“Are you sure that thing is not expired?”

He scoffs as he makes his way back to bed, “actually, maybe.” he checks the packet and to his horror, it has been way past due. “Yeah yeah, way to slap me in the face. Thanks, universe.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh, oh my gosh.” you were almost brought to tears by the comedic timing of it all. He really had not gotten laid. Poor boy, everyone knows he very much deserved it considering he had been busy his entire life.

“I have pills, don’t worry.” his face lights up, but it is still evident how annoyed he was at the situation.

“I’m sorry, I… I won't forget next time…” and then his own words struck him. “Shit, I mean—”

You chuckled at the flushing of his face. He looked so embarrassed, you did not have the heart to tease him anymore assuming there would be more sexy encounters after today. Besides, you’ve been craving for some action now.

“You know I can always keep you company—that is until I get myself a boyfriend,” you pulled him close, as you settled underneath him, head nested in between his two arms that support his weight.

His eyes once again turned soft, as one hand began tracing your cheek, trailing to the back of your ear. “I think… I know someone,” nose scrunching while smiling ear to ear, his eyes turned crescent at his own words, cringing at what sounded like a hard-sell.

“Oooh, I’d like to meet him,” your smirk drowns in the kiss that once again began, while his body shifts so that his tip aligns with your entrance. Your knees instinctively wrap around his waist. 

“I’m going in, “ he says in courtesy when he had his head right in your opening, making both of you gasp for air. You didn’t even ask for it but nonetheless had you melting for his consideration, especially when he adds, “You wanted it slow, right?”

And with your nod, he goes in painfully slowly that gradually leaves you in pleasure. He was hard and thick, your hole contracting to his size as it delicately found its way inside. It was your first time for so long you forgot dicks can get this big. You clung onto him, while his mouth rested just by your ears, whispering sweet nothings to comfort you.

He kisses you passionately as your warmth envelopes him whole, taking time for you to adjust. He was a perfect fit inside, as if his cock was molded out of your hole, and it's driving you crazy the breathy moans just wont stop coming out of your lungs. You slowly opened your eyes and it was met by his, looking intently at your face with the same thought plastered on his face: you want him just as much as he wants you—both your eyes tell, no words needed. 

He began moving his hips in long thrusts to initiate his rhythm. Mouths hovering over another, catching each others’ breaths as your hips met his. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he increases his speed as well as the depth of his thrust. “You feel so, so good.”

Jihoon was just as loud as you are, if not louder. You kinda liked it, a man moaning to his pleasure, not afraid to admit how needy he can be nor stingy for reactions. And you had to admit, it just turned you on even more. 

“Jihoon… fuck… you’re so hot.” 

Jihoon, feeling the rush of wetness from inside you and also hearing his name through your whimpers, was going insane stopping himself not to pound onto you, drilling into your hole until you were begging for mercy. You were just so wet that it makes it so much easier to thrust inside deeper and faster, but he can save it for another time. For now, you were his princess, he keeps reminding himself. He’s got orders to fulfill, unless you amend it yourself, he will gladly obey.

“You’re so fucking wet… and tight… fuck.” he trailed the last word as he increased his intensity unknowingly, which you didn’t mind. 

“Harder… please…” 

He follows suit, pulling far and pushing deep into you in perfectly timed intervals. He definitely got rhythm, perks of being a composer, you thought, you have to tell him that later as a compliment.

“Like that, oh sh- ahh…” you cannot even form words anymore, the way he makes you feel so good was almost inconveniencing the wiring of your brain. Your body now sprawled on the bed, no other movements, just your back arching and…

And your fingers interlaced with his.

The scene felt like two passionately infatuated people making love. You two were connected south of your heated bodies, but that did not seem enough for him; he had to lock his free hand with yours just by his chest.  Heck you did not even notice how he planted kisses on the back of your hand when you were busy trying to savor how inch by inch your hole gets filled.

He is great in bed, you gotta admit, and he can be romantic as well. Why was he single again?

“I… I think I’m…” close. He knows. He felt you clenching around him.

“Yeah,” he speeds up, as he can feel him coming too. “Together?”

You nod mindlessly, gasping at the speed he is now going. The pitch ofn his moans went higher, almost sounding like a cry. The thrusting went on not long before both of you finally climaxed in unison. His forehead rests on yours, hand on your cheeks and weight slumped onto you as he rides out your high. He’d like to believe that got him tired, but not exhausted. He can definitely go for rounds given he gets rest for a while, if he gets permission that is.

He groans as he pulls himself out, a decision which gained a whine from you. The guy just chuckles as he pumps himself dry. The view looked mesmerizing, him with an afterglow, sweaty in full glory, and face contorting to pleasure accompanied by guttural moans he did not try to suppress even a bit. You imagined, does he look like that, flushed in red, shining from the little light inside the room, when he touches himself?  You thought there's nothing sexier than a JIhoon who is fully immersed in his projects. Well, you just have gotten corrected.

You leaned into him, feeling his breath touch your lips. Your eyes still hooded from your release, and you’re still a bit sensitive but damn, you’re craving for more.

“You look hot like that,” you just had to say it. There’s nothing to lose in being honest in words and in action, right?

“Uh-huh, how’s that for a boyfriend?”

“I’d love it,” You bit your lips, standing on your knees to straddle him in between. Your eyes are still hooded, and your hole sensitive. But damn, your friend over here just looked a little too irresistible and you just craved for more.

You sat on his thigh as your mouth found its way to his neck, hitting that sweet spot of his right off the bat. He was hissing at the contact, leaning backwards with support of his one arm. “No way… You’re going to make me hard again in no time.”

That’s exactly what you were aiming for. The night has just started anyway. Might as well spend the whole time enthusiastically riding out fantasies. Jihoon himself had too many of them. He got advantage, he need not think hard and just live the dream. Daydeams, rather.

The guy cannot believe he is not gonna touch his fleshlight tonight. You were here right on top of him, making out as you went down on him, reaching the twitching target that was just gaining filled up yet again.

Your tongue traced his shaft from its base, maintaining eye contact with him. He tried so hard to keep it, but failed because your naughty tongue makes it difficult for him to. The process was all too familiar, you had your own practices at this very mattress accompanied by your dildo when you’re alone. The fascinating thing now is that you witness it grow right in front of your eyes as you give your full attention to it.

“How are you so good at this—hmmphhfuck!” His brows are furrowed and mouth hanging wide, obviously having the time of his life watching your mouth take him in whole. He has gone full erect in no time after bucking his hips for a few seconds and then deciding he misses your pussy around him.

“Come here baby,” he pulls you for a kiss, with your knees automatically straddling him in between. It was like he had been away for a long time the way your arms wrapped around his shoulder, kissing him deeper. Your throbbing wet folds full of arousal was resting against his pulsating girth, making you moan in between kisses.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” his kisses went sloppy as he goes into your neck, and also your chest, giving your erect nipples more attention it deserves.

“God… I need you too, Jihoon-ah…. I need more please….”

You did not need to beg, but hearing it with your needy voice and lustful eyes had him acting from adrenaline, pulling your body closer, groping you as if you would even run away from his arms. His cock was poking your entrance by then, and you let yourself sink on it almost immediately without warning.

“Fuck!” screamed halfway through, when Jihoon himself thrusted up so he can fill you in, albeit he himself is still a bit sensitive.

The sting was quick to be washed out by sensual gratification as the overstimulation picked up your pace when you began riding him. 

“Holy shit,” tears well up in your eyes, as you writhe in pleasurable pain. Jihoon too was moaning out loud, gaining his momentum in thrusting upwards as fast as he could. Your bodies were clinging into each other, sweats mixing and skin slapping, but nothing matters. Not the sound of pattering rain drops outside the window, nor the volume of your moans that may have already reached the maximum your walls can hide, not even the creaking of the bed that has reached the floorboards. Only the pleasure you share is important right now, and nothing should come in between.

“Hold it, please…” Jihoon spoke in behind his gritted teeth when he felt you clenching around him. “Please… just….a little bit more…” He goes on thrusting, losing his rhythm once in a while due to his greed in taking his precious time with your clenched pussy.

You can feel him holding his release as well through his flexed thigh muscles and his eyes shut tight. “Fuck I dont wanna cum yet… i dont wanna cum… please….”

You were already shaking your head, arms hugging him tight to support yourself. His moans suddenly dips as he chokes on his own, and then gradually changes into whimpers like he is the neediest person in town.

“Ji… I can’t….hold it—” exhaling a breathy moan, you squirmed in his arms, head falling down his shoulder while panting heavily from your release. Jihoon came simultaneously, filling you up as he stayed inside for a while, catching his breath to its normality. Both pulsating and sensitive, no one dared to move a single muscle.

It took a while when one of you was consciously looking for the other’s lips. It was a simple kiss, a short one, but holds a lot of words he’s been meaning to tell you. He cooes, your name sweetly slipping off his drying throat.

“Hmm?” you hummed, as you rested your forehead against his, letting his hand cup your cheeks. 

“What do you think?”

You chuckled at his words. He is insufferable. He really can’t wait until you’re all cleaned up and cozy? 

“Actually, save it. I gotta clean up my princess before anything else.”

If there was an award for being the most outstanding service of an aftercare, Jihoon would have another plaque to be displayed somewhere not in his studio. It was a premium experience, even getting warm towels for the both of you before submerging you in a hot, bubble bath, complete with aromatherapy applying your lavender-scented lotion all over you right after. Stepping out of the bathroom in robes, he goes straight to your kitchen, you following him behind. He insisted actually, he wanted you to stay comfortable in your room, but you figured you did not need that right now. You just enjoyed his company way too much tonight, and you can’t seem to find another spot at home comfortable unless he was right beside you.

He prepares you a cup of warm tea just as how you preferred while he picks some drink available in your fridge.

“Banana milk? Are you sure? I’ve got juice over there.”

“Yeah, this is fine.”

“Sorry, no soda.” you shrugged with an apologetic smile.

You were sitting at the high chairs by your mini bar, with him by the edge as he pokes the carton with the straw. You stared at him for a moment, head full but no thoughts being formed.

“Ah, you were asking earlier,” you broke the stare before he senses it. “I’d be honest with you and say, that was probably the best sex I have ever had so far.”

“Pfft,” he laughs, without looking at you, trying to hid the blush forming on his cheeks. Too bad you can see his ears reddening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” at this point you were trying to calm the butterflies that started fluttering inside your stomach, distracting yourself as you dunk the teabag in the fully saturated cup of water. What is this sudden, stupid feeling in your gut? “Gotta give credit to your musicality. You’ve got a perfect rhythm. Oh and how your moans harmonized with mine. It literally sounded like music. You were also good with your mouth, and how you touch me. Attentive as well, the entire night. And the aftercare was a total royal treatment! And uhm…” you paused when you realized you were just babbling, staring at the ripples created by swirling the teaspoon in your tea. “Oh my gosh… sorry I got carried away.”

“No it was fine, I think I also wanted to hear that. Like a feedback you know,”

“for reference next time, huh?”

He chokes on his drink, dipping his head down in embarrassment. “No I mean…”

“I am looking forward to it,” you muttered cutting his words, as your eyelashes fluttered, feeling a bit tired yet relaxed.

He looks at you in full adoration, and a hint of boosted ego. God, why are you the most beautiful person in the world and why is he lucky to have you this close to him? Even looking forward to next time?

“I do too. I actually think we’re compatible in bed…” he says rather shyly in reference with what you told him earlier. 

“Right…” you trailed. He meets your eye almost a millisecond long (short), and goes to sip his beverage until it’s empty. He breathes deeply, as he disposes of the trash all the while avoiding any contact with your eyes as he came back, not able to hide how he suddenly feels so nervous around you right now. You can’t help but shake your head. Gosh, Jihoon, can’t you be any more dense than this?

“We do seem compatible, no?” you continued, waiting for him to look at you again. He does, revealing the blush that never left his face, and your next words deepens its hue even more.

“...how’s that for a girlfriend?”

hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! ^^

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Dreams of Love - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Made it a Hughie and Annie baby. Named it Joel because I’m hilarious and Annie would sooner eat glass than name her son Billy.

Chapter Title from She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary/Warnings: Request from my love @deansbbyx ! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, Dad Ben, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?)

“Where the hell did Annie get a baby from.”

You sigh, giving Ben a flat look. “Her vagina, Benjamin. That’s where most of them pop out, you know.” 

Ben scowls, shooting you a glare that really only makes your whole body warm and soft. “Shut the fuck up, brat, you know what I meant-“

“I don’t think I did, Pretty Boy. I think you need to start explaining where you think babies come from-“

You’re cut off as Ben pulls you right to his chest, dropping his brow to yours with a smirk.

“You know damn well that I know where babies come from, Sunshine.” He drawls, and he’s really warm, and he smells so good, and his muscles are flexing around you, and his keeping his mouth just far enough away that you can’t kiss him but God you want to-

Ben-

You need something, darling? Need me to fuck you dumb right here, fill you up with my cock and remind you how fucking good we are at baby making? 

You swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from his darkened, lust-blown eyes. He’s starving for you, and you can feel it everywhere—you can’t even tell where your own thirst for him begins and his hunger for you ends—but you cannot have sex right now. There just isn’t the time, and it’s not like Ben’s going anywhere, but fuck, he’s so handsome and he’ll taste like strawberries and maple syrup from breakfast, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your thigh-

“MM’s going to be here soon,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of Ben’s shirt to give your fingers something to do that isn’t wrapping around Ben’s dick. “And Ryan needs to go to school. I can drive him if you-“

Ben rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your brow before rising back up to his full height. “You’re not fucking driving. I’ll take Ryan, you get the Campbell baby.”

“But-“

He drawls your name, raising his brows. “You really fucking think MM is going to leave a fucking baby with me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You raise your chin slightly, holding Ben’s vaguely amused gaze. “He doesn’t hate you anymore-“

“Doesn’t matter if he still wanted to cut my fucking dick off or not, you’re the only one he’s leaving it with.”

 “It had a name, Ben.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning your chin on his chest. “And I’m sure MM would leave Joel with you if I ask him to.”

“But you’re not going to ask,” Ben says your name with a shrug, half picking you off the floor and cradling your head with one hand. “I’m bringing Ryan to school, you’re taking the baby. That’s it.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What if I promise you a blowjob to trade?”

He snorts, the radiance in his body bursting along your ribs. I’d get that blowjob anyway. 

What if I promise breeding kink sex?

His eyes narrow. You think you’re real fucking smart.

I do. You smile at him, playing with the hair on his beard as you sway slightly in his arms. You say I am all the time. You call me clever, and beautiful, and perfect. And if you like me now, imagine how amazing I’d be when you fucked me good enough for to put a baby-

You win. Ben’s hand tightens on your waist, his eyes flash, his hunger almost explodes through his body, and it’s all the warning you get before his mouth is crashing down to yours. Your silent words are cut off with a deep growl from Ben’s chest as he walks you backwards to the kitchen counter, his hand tugging at your hair to deepen the kiss. Your lips part with a moan that Ben swallows, and you’re scratching at his back as he shoves a knee between your legs, and fuck, he’s so good-

Such a needy fucking brat. He mutters in your head, and you can only grind against him. You are fucking perfect, you’re a goddamn miracle, but that smart fucking mouth, Ben hums against your lips, starting to kiss a wet, sloppy line down your neck. It’s a fucking marvel, Sunshine. Going to fucking kill me, how goddamn beautiful you are, all fucking dumb and pretty when I touch you-

Fuck- You whine when he starts to suck on that one spot near your throat, and he chuckles against your skin. God, Ben-

Words, darling, use that smart mouth to beg-

Please, Benjamin, you ass-

You squeak as his hand pins you against his knee, and he draws back, scanning over your open, desperate expression with a wide smirk. 

“Hi, Sunshine.” He drawls, tipping your chin back with a careful hand, and you might be drooling. 

He’s so fucking handsome. It’s really not fair. This life looks painfully good on him, where all his love is still hot and bloody and focused in your body, but the resolve to hold you is just to hold you. There are no threats that you’d need protection from, but Ben’s still shielding you just a little all the time because that’s what he does. He loves and cares about you so violently you’d be worried he offers you too much, but all he’s ever asked for in return is this. Is you, already a little dazed from his hand dragging circles on the skin of your hips, your mouth hanging open as you take in his messy hair and relaxed expression. Everything in him glows when he presses his thumb on your lower lip and you moan, and when he leaves a small, almost chaste kiss on the space between your eyes the fire under your skin starts to push up, and you’re smoking, and he’s just grinning at you like a dick-

“You’re so fucking perfect, beautiful.” He mutters, and you don’t know why he’s not just fucking you. “When I get you alone again, you’re going to cum on my hands, then my face, then my cock when I fill you up. You’re going to feel me for fucking days, darling, and everyone will know that I always fuck you properly when you sit down at a meeting and fucking whine like a goddamn brat.”

You have a small, breathless speech in your head that’s mostly a plea of you are alone, right now, and it’s not possible for Ben to make you feel it for days, but God, you’d like to see him try, but you don’t get the chance to say it. You stare at Ben’s smug grin for a long second, taking steady breaths to try and regain just a little bit of control over your brain—which right now seems to only remember how to say Benjamin, please—and Ryan walks into the kitchen with his backpack and nervous, quick words.

“Ben, I lost my notebook-“ Ryan’s eyes widen at the scene before him—Ben still holding you on his knee, your whole body slack under his touch and very obvious, slightly glowing smoke rising from your skin—and he freezes in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’ll just go wait in the car-“

“Stay here, kid.” Ben helps you down, pressing one last, gentle kiss to your brow before turning his attention to Ryan. “Car’s not started yet, and your notebook’s under the couch.”

Ryan frowns. “How did it-“

“Shoved it there last night.” Ben grunts. His voice is really deep. His arm is still around you. He smells like pine and coffee and that earthy, salty thing that’s just Ben-

“Oh.” Ryan nods slowly. “Was it- I’m-“

“Don’t fucking apologize. It wasn’t in the way, I just had to do all the damn baby proofing-“

That snaps you out of it.

“You were baby proofing?”

Ben frowns down at you, something slightly sore wrapping over his skin. “Of course I was fucking baby proofing, I’m not going to let the damn thing just fuck around the house and die-“

You let just a little bit of your own, raw and infinite love leak into Ben’s body, rising up to press a kiss right over his beard and humming against his skin. Thank you, Benjamin. That was sweet.

I am not fucking sweet-

Of course not, Pretty Boy. What was I thinking. Your smile is wide and unrestrained as you lean back, holding Ben’s face between your hands. I love you.

I love you too, Sunshine. He rolls his eyes, dragging one of your hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll get your notebook, Ryan. Go put on your shoes.”

“Okay.” Ryan bounces on his feet, looking between you and Ben with an open, anxious expression. “Is- Are Hughie and Annie bringing Joey here?”

“They’re on their honeymoon,” you explain, Ben scowls, and you shoot him a flat look. “Which someone is being a grumpy asshole about.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.” Ben grumbles, guiding you out of the kitchen. “We’ve been married for ten goddamn month and haven’t gone on our honeymoon. Why the hell do those pussies get to go first.”

“They’re not going first, Ben, they just actually planned their wedding instead of doing it spontaneously in a field-“

Ben rolls his eyes. “If we do that proper wedding shit, will you finally take some time off so I can fuck you on a beach?”

You flush, whacking Ben’s chest as Ryan looks around absent-mindedly, pretending not to hear. Benjamin-

The kid is used to it, Sunshine-

He shouldn’t be- 

He’s fine. I think he’s got bigger fucking problems than me loving you like you deserve-

But-

“Ryan.” Ben grunts, tucking you a little further into his side and ignoring your death glare. He’s lucky you can’t burn his face off anymore. “You got an issue with me telling her I’m going to fuck her?”

“I, um- no?” Ryan shrugs, frowning at the air. “I guess I tune it out now, just because you do it kind of a lot and I- I dunno, I just expect it. Sorry-“

“Don’t say sorry, kid. You did good.” Ben shoots you a smug look, bright, hot pride inflating in his chest. You’re going to strangle him, then make out with his stupid, handsome, cocky face. “Shoes.”

Ryan nods and wanders to the door, and Ben looks so fucking proud of himself.

Benjamin William- 

You barely get out your shared last name before Ben’s squeezing your hips, pulling you up into a long, open-mouth kiss that makes you moan loud and soft, your body molding right into his. Never should’ve told you my middle name, brat. 

Could be worse. You mumble, smiling against his lips. I could tell Butcher. 

He pulls back with narrowed eyes. You won’t.

Test me, Benjamin-

You tell Butcher, I’ll… Ben trails off between your heads, and you can feel a wired spike in his heart when he realizes he doesn’t have any believable threats anymore. 

You’ll what? You raise your brows, giving him an overly sweet pout. Fuck me dumb? Make me beg? Throw me around until I’m a whiny, horny mess for your cock-

He slams back into you, hauling your body into his arms without even a stuttered breath and carrying you to the couch. 

Christ on a fucking cross, Ben mutters your name between your heads, lowering himself to his knees before you as he kisses you back into the cushions. You’re so fucking perfect.

His tone is entirely reverent, so sincere it might kill you, and the pure devotion and fervor of his love in your body is enough to drive you mad.

Ben- His hand trails up your thigh, and you’d be embarrassed by your loud moan if it didn’t make Ben groan into your mouth, everything in him sparking and flaring. Fuck-

Later, Sunshine. He tips your chin back slightly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth right before he pulls away. “Stay here until I get home.”

You hum, taking his hand from your cheek and twisting his wedding ring around his finger with a small smile. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He chuckles, leaning into one last, soft kiss before rising to his feet. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, darling. Tell me when MM drops off the kid.”

Tell you on the what, Benjamin?

I’m not fucking saying it.

Please?

You give him your sweetest smile, squeezing your hand on his knee and leaning into his touch, and he groans.

Smart fucking brat. He mutters, moving his hand back to tangle in your hair and tugging slightly, just enough to make your head tip back. Tell me on the Ben’o’phone, and I’ll fuck your mouth and cunt real good when I get home.

Deal. Thank you.

Don’t. He grumbles between your heads, but even as his hand leaves yours you can feel the power of his love, the rough affection that’s settled deeply and comfortably into his chest. “You think we’ve got all the shit-“

“MM’s going to bring most of it. And,” you nod to the floor, and Ben turns with a frown. “I bought a play pen. We can keep it after. For later. When I get that promised fucking.”

You see Ben’s hands curl into fists, he stands a little taller, and fuck, you’re right at eye level with his bulge but Ryan really does need to go to school-

“I can’t believe Annie and Hughie got a fucking baby before we did.” He mutters, glaring at the play pen. “It’s a goddamn travesty-“

“Travesty.” You hum, looking up at him with a wide, teasing smile. “Big word, Pretty Boy-“

“Shut up.” 

Ben turns back to you, taking your face between big, warm hands and scanning over your features with a narrowed gaze. You can feel something wound tightly in his chest—slightly molding and almost painful—so you grab his wrists to keep him against you, and give him your widest, realest smile. The smile that’s for Ben, and Ben only.

It’s always really just Ben.

You know I fucking adore you. He says between your heads, his voice low and rough. Love you more than the goddamn universe, Sunshine, you’re my whole goddamn life. You know that.

I think you’ve mentioned it. You hum, leaning into his touch. And I love you too, you massive cunt, so say what the fuck you mean.

Ben lets out a dry snort as you drop your voice into a mocking impression of him on those last words, shaking his head slightly. Christ, darling. You’re fucking-

Perfect, I’m aware. Please, Ben-

You don’t need to ever do anything you fucking hate with me. He grunts, his body suddenly made only of fervorish, protective stone. I got you and Ryan, and that can be my world for the rest of my goddamn life, and I’d be good. If that caped fucking pussy knocked the idea of a baby out of your head forever, I’m not going to-

Ben. You cut him off with soft but firm words, holding his gaze. We don’t lie to each other.

Of course we fucking don’t-

So when I say that one day soon, I want to do this, you nod to the play pen. With you, believe me. Please.

His jaw twitches, and the wrathful care in his body doesn’t vanish, but it never does. It only moves back peacefully into your bones as Ben slowly nods. You’re sure.

Positive. Go bring Ryan to school before I do.

Ben rolls his eyes, leans down to kiss the top of your head, and half-stomps out the door.

He’ll be back soon. And—though he’ll never get you to say it aloud—you’ll wait right here until he does. Where everything still smells like pine, and you’re molded into the couch right where Ben put you, and you can smile at the play pen like a dumbass until the doorbell rings. 

You know it MM before you open it, because Ben just walks in wherever he wants—including into offices he definitely should not be walking into and meetings you’re supposed to be focusing on—and everyone in the neighborhood seems to know that’s Soldier Boy and the Anomaly’s house, so after the Homeowners Association incident, nobody really bothers you that much. 

It would be lonely if you didn’t already have a Ben, a Ryan, a Butcher—friend was too generous for the asshole, but he was unfortunately an indisputable part of your life—and friends.

Because when you open the door, it is MM on the other side, and he looks tire and pissed but still happy to see you. You can feel it—during your brief, tight hug—that there’s a heavy exhaustion under his skin and over his muscles, but there’s nothing but relieved affection for you to be here. 

“This kid,” MM mutters as you pull apart. “Has fucking lungs.”

You smile, following him out to the still-running car. “I know, I’ve heard them. Annie told me to buy Ryan earplugs.”

“Smart.” MM leans into the car door, pulling out the car seat and probably saying more things, but you don’t really hear them because that’s a baby. A baby baby. A barely popped, wispy haired baby that looks so much like a shrunken down version of Hughie it’s a little disturbing.

And you’ve met him before. You were there when Annie had her pre-mature birth, doing what Ben had called more work than the damn nurses and stopping Annie’s bleeding with a press of your hand to her legs a brief rush of pain between your thighs. 

MM had told you Ben had doubled over with a roar in the lobby, and you’d seen the evidence of it when you’d rejoined him and there was a large hole in the wall. But Annie had been okay, Hughie had given you a tight hug that could’ve left a bruise if that was something your body could do, and the baby had been healthy. 

You hadn’t wanted to hold him, nerves building in your throat about what feeling the emotions of a baby could even do. Annie had told you that it would be fine, and half-shoved Joey into your arms.

And now—just like then—you can feel nothing but soft, humming peace from tiny Joel Campbell in your arms. There’s no bloodied pain or freezing fear, nothing rotten in his chest or throat or head. He’s just a little fuzzy because you’re not Annie, but it’s a brief distress that fades when you start to hum and the whole world grows perfectly warm.

They’re here. Your words are soft down your connection to Ben, and he flares slightly in your chest.

Good. Ryan’s off, I’ll be back soon. Don’t fucking move.

You smile to yourself, and MM must realize that you’ve moved yourself into a trance, because he doesn’t try to talk to you until you’re settled back inside with Joey carefully in your arms, and all of Annie’s baby supplies are piled near the door.

“You think your old motherfucker is ready for this?”

You snort. Ben’s so ready you’re probably going to spend the next month after this trying to pry him off of you. “He is. He baby-proofed the house.”

MM grunts, scanning around the living room. “I’m guessing the asshole wants one?”

You might be smiling like an idiot. “You have no idea.”

“I think I can live with that.” MM mutters, giving you an odd look. “And- If I’m out of line tell me to shut it and I will, but can you even do that?”

You sigh, trailing one finger softly over Joey’s cheek. There’s something in that silent, happy hum you feel from him that really seems like Annie.

You wonder if your baby would look like Ben and feel like you, or look like you and feel like Ben. 

“I can if I want.” You say, shaking your head at MM’s look of confusion. “Don’t ask.”

He raises his hands in agreement, nodding to Joey in your arms. “Do you? Want one?”

“I do.” You whisper. “I always did, before, and then Home-“ You swallow. You still don’t like saying his name. He doesn’t deserve for his name to be said, not where Joey can hear it. “Then he, he did everything, and it didn’t seem like a thing I could ever do. But now...”

You trail off, and MM nods.

“What changed?”

You look up with a soft smile. “Do you really want me to say it?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “That old asshole must have a fucking genie who owes him one or something.”

You only hum, because it’s not really useful to explain that Ben doesn’t need a genie. He’s just Ben, and he’s everything, and you love him. “Maybe. I think he’s going to be amazing at this.”

“Of course you do.” MM mutters. “Where the hell is he?”

“Dropping Ryan at school.” You say, lowering your voice to whisper to Joey. “He’s bringing us back chocolate.”

“How the hell do you know-“

“He always brings me back something. And he’s that way,” you wave a vague hand over your shoulder, where you can sense Ben moving around miles away. “So he’s getting chocolate.”

When you look up, MM’s gaping slightly. “He always brings you something?”

“Of course he does. He thinks it’s an apology for leaving me.”

“Leaving- Motherfucker.” MM sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you two idiots can’t die without each other. You’re already so goddamn annoying.”

You can’t disagree with that. Not when—a few hours after MM leaves—Ben pushes through the door with a box of those fancy fucking chocolates you love, Sunshine, and lowers to his knees before you, staring at Joey in your arms.

“Hughie makes a tiny fucking baby.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Don’t bully the infant, Ben-“

“I’m not bullying him, I’m bullying his father. Hughie’s a fucking adult, he’ll live.” Ben rises up to kiss your brow. “You look real damn good with a baby in your arms, darling.”

You smile at him, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. Keep it in your pants, old man.

For the damn baby I will, but I promised you a proper fucking, Ben drawls your name between your heads, shooting you a wink. Going to have you begging for my cum in your mouth, on your tits, in that pretty fucking pussy-

Benjamin. You give him a stern look, even as the deep sound of his voice in your mind, the sight of him grinning at you, and the hunger in his body settle deep in your stomach. Not when I’m actively holding the child.

He rolls his eyes, but drops at your side on the couch and kisses your temple. Fine.

Thank you. You lean your head on Ben’s shoulder, letting him tuck you against his side, his hand tracing slow patterns on your arm as you start to hum, soothing Joey fully to sleep.

And you could’ve stayed like this for a lifetime. Ben’s content—you can feel it, feel how deeply and easily settled he is at your side—this is so simply peaceful, and you have no desire to disturb the static, colorful feeling you get from Joey, so you could’ve died here.

But Joey shits his pants, because that’s what babies do.

And You really don’t want to move. 

MM left some things by the door, can you please-

You don’t need to finish the sentence before Ben’s moving, marching to the hall to grab the diapers and pushing the coffee table to your knees when he returns. You change Joey there—it’s a flat surface, you cleaned it that morning, and Ben had laid out a towel—before settling back onto the couch, and that’s most of the day. Joey’s hungry, Ben grabs the bottle and you feed him. Joey’s never cold—you and Ben are walking furnaces—but he seems a little uncomfortable, so Ben grabs a blanket Annie left and you swaddle. Joey shits himself again, and Ben marches upstairs to run a sink bath.

He hangs over your shoulder every second. And there are no grumbled suggestions or thoughts about Joey, only normal conversations about work and TV and Ryan and dinner. Nothing feels different, and the solid, pious care and love you feel from Ben is no stronger than normal. It’s aimed right at your heart and golden and warm in your body, but that’s just Ben. That’s how he loves you. 

The only change is something softer—lining over his head and lungs—that glows when you catch him glancing at Joey in your arms. When you settle back on the couch with a sleepy, clean baby, and Ben pulls you half into his lap, resting his chin on the top of your head. You waste the afternoon like this. Watching TV with Ben everywhere around you, Joey asleep in your arms and nothing really that worrying in the world.

When your phone rings, you almost don’t want to answer it. But it’s Butcher, and if you ignore him he’ll come to your house, so you sigh and pick up the call.

“Butcher,” you whisper, and Ben’s arms tighten around your body. “Please tell me this is important.”

“You wound me.” Butcher’s voice is filled with mock offense through the speaker as he says your name. “I ain’t ever bothered you for no reason-“

“One time you called me to say Ben lost his pen.”

“And he was tearin’ up the bloody office, so I needed you to work your fuckin’ sex magic on the Gov before he hurt ‘imself. Always got a reason, love, you should well fuckin’ know that.”

I can’t hurt myself. Ben grumbles in your ear, obviously eavesdropping. Only person who can hurt me is you-

Romantic, my love. Shut up. “Butcher, if this is a work thing you have to call MM, Ben and I both have the day off-“

“‘Fraid MM ain’t able to help with this one, love. I got Secretary Campbell ‘ere, and he ain’t leavin’ until he speaks to Mr. and Mrs. American Dream.”

“Stop calling us that, it doesn’t even make sense.” You sigh, glancing at Joey in your arms. “What does he want?”

Apparently, Singer’s Defense Secretary is trying to get you and Ben to donate some DNA again. And you’d send Ben to deal with him, but you’re pretty sure that would end with a dead Campbell and another year half on the lam for you. So you sigh, tell Butcher you’ll be there soon, and hang up.

Ben mutters your name, keeping you steady in his lap. “I can fucking handle this-“

“No, Ben, it’s okay.” You lean back on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “You watch Joey, and I’ll pick up Ryan on my way back.”

“You shouldn’t fucking drive-“

“I’ll go slow. And be careful-“

Ben scoffs. “You’re never fucking careful-“

“Yes, I am. I will be. Just take Joey-“

“No, I’ll fucking deal with Singer’s lapdog, and you’ll keep the baby-“

“Benjamin.” You snap, and he shuts his mouth with a glower. There’s something sore over his whole body, but it’s rooted in his hands. Itching and heavy and tense, tight around his throat-

You frown, tilting your head at him, and softening your voice between your heads.

Are you okay?

I-

And remember I can feel you, Ben. You raise your brows, shifting in his lap to fully face him. Are you worried about the baby?

I’m not fucking worried, he grunts your name, hands tightening on your body. I don’t want to you leave, Sunshine, is that a goddamn crime-

No. You kiss him, quick and sweet, and rise from his hold. But I do have to go. I’ll put Joey in the travel crib, and you can Ben’o’phone me if you need help.

Or you could fucking stay-

You’ll be fine, my love. I’ll be back soon.

——————

Ben wasn’t watching TV. It was on, in the background, but he couldn’t goddamn focus on it. 

There was a fucking baby in the room. It wasn’t bigger than his forearm, it kept making small baby sounds, and if Ben looked away from the crib for one goddamn second he was pretty fucking certain something would go wrong. The ceiling would fall and Ben wouldn’t be quick enough to throw his body over it. He would be quick enough, but he wouldn’t be careful and he’d crush the baby. The baby would shit, and he’d have to change the diaper. It would start throwing lightning bolts like its mother, and Ben would have to figure out what the fuck to do. It would be hungry, and Ben didn’t have tits. 

The ceiling would not fall. This whole house had been supe-proofed, because all of them still had nightmares that set off their powers, when Ryan and Ben it could—according to Her—cause permanent structural damage, and Ben needed to be able to fuck Her however he pleased without worrying about everything breaking around them.

Ben would not crush the baby. He wasn’t some weak fucking pussy who couldn’t control his strength after damn near 80 years.

If the baby took another shit, Ben could change a diaper. He wouldn’t fucking like it, but it was just shit and piss. He’d been covered in guts and blood and brains, shit and piss was nothing. Even if that thing took some of the biggest shits Ben had seen in his very long life.

According to Her and Frenchie, mainstreamed V wasn’t hereditary. It didn’t fundamentally change the users DNA or some shit, so Annie and Hughie’s baby would always just be a normal person. Ben wasn’t really sure, because somewhere in the conversation someone had said what if they had a baby and pointed to Her and Ben, and he’d gotten distracted. 

If it got hungry, She’d shown Ben how formula worked, and he’d figure it out. He’d do whatever the hell he needed to in order to prove to Her that they could have a baby. If they had a baby, Ben would fucking kill it.

Not the baby. He’d kill taking care of a baby. He’d feed and change and tend to it—just like he did with Her and Ryan—and it would be fucking disgusting and boring as shit, but he’d goddamn do it if he could have a baby. 

And he didn’t know exactly what the hell had changed in forty years that men were expected to change diapers, but he’d change a million diapers for Her. He’d throw himself into the Sun and bury himself alive for Her. He’d watch something called How to Train You Dragon for Her. He’d fucking cook for Her—she sure as hell couldn’t do it herself, and Ben would be damned if he let his wife starve—and he’d read a fucking book just to make Her smile. 

Changing a diaper—if that made Her happy as well—was fucking nothing.

So when Joey started wailing—about twenty minutes after She’d left—Ben was fucking ready. He’d been studying all the shit She’d been doing, and this kid wasn’t going to know what the fuck hit him. Annie and Hughie would get him back in better condition, and Ben would be a goddamn hero.

But the baby didn’t want food. And its diaper was clean. 

The only thing that seemed to make it stop was when Ben held it. Cradled it in his arms and rocked it back and forth, sitting back on the couch because every time he tried to put the little fucker down, it would start screaming again. 

Ben didn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a real baby. He’d seen this one in the hospital after Annie popped it, and a few times after, but he’d never really held it. Annie had offered once, and he’d taken it, but it hadn’t been like this. Where Joey was curled into Ben’s chest and Annie wasn’t bouncing on her feet to take it back. 

This was peaceful. Quiet. The TV humming in the background and Ben just fucking holding a baby. A baby that was happy to be in his arms, and didn’t fit perfectly because it wasn’t Ben’s baby, but was still a damn baby.

Happy. With him holding it.

Something became clear in his head. It had never been fogged or covered, but it was sharp now. Right in reach and touchable, more than just a fantasy or daydream. 

Ben fucking wanted this. And he could really fucking have it. He’d seen Her look at Joey, and She’d sworn she’d want this as well. She’d said She’d want it with Ben.

And he could see it. Ben could almost physically fucking see a baby that had Her eyes and hair and whole perfect face, and would grab Ben’s nose and fucking break it. Any kid She and Ben had would be a supe—as far as Ben understood it—and they would be the strongest one yet. Ryan would help them learn to control the strength, and he’d never fucking worry about being loved less, because as far as the baby would know, Ryan would be their damn brother.

It would be smart like Her and Ryan. The kid would be talking in three months—or something, Ben didn’t know when babies usually started talking—and do all the fucking school shit, then chose to do good things because they would be Her kid, and everything She did and touched became fucking good.

And She’d be the best goddamn mother. She already was, with Ryan, and this would just be more. More annoying parents for Her to threaten, another person for Her to teach shit to, and another piece of evidence for Her to have that Ben couldn’t love Her more if he tried. Another way for Ben to show Her that She, Ryan, and now the baby were the only things in the whole damn universe that mattered.

He could see it. Her padding around the house in Ben’s shirt, holding their baby in one arm and a phone in the other. Hissing incredibly graphic threats at a congressman while smiling at the baby, sometimes dropping Her voice to coo to the kid when She was between calls.

“You know.” She said, swaying slightly in place as she mumbled to the child. Their child. That was Ben’s fucking child. “If that asshole doesn’t listen to Mommy, she’s going to let Daddy yell at them. And Daddy can be scary.”

Ben frowned, but he couldn’t quite move or speak, She didn’t see him there, and when She kept talking any protests of him being ‘scary’ vanished into the air.

“I know that crazy to you, because Daddy isn’t scary.” She set Her phone down on the counter, devoting Her entire attention to the infant in her arms. “He’s just big and grumpy. Like an ancient teddy bear.”

The kid made a soft, babbling sound, and Ben really wanted to hear it again. Especially as a tiny fist shot up, wrapped around Her finger, and she smiled as it babbled again.

“You’re right, he can be a bit of an asshole. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

Ben could suddenly move, and he was walking forwards. Moving to Her side and pressing a kiss to Her brow. “Smart fucking mouth, brat.”

“You love it.” She hummed, leaning into him as She kept speaking to the baby. “He loves it.”

Ben did love it. He loved how fucking happy She was, how easy this felt, and how—when Ryan called from upstairs for homework help—She passed the baby into Ben’s arms without a thought and walked away. 

And that was their fucking kid. And it had sharp eyes that were scanning over Ben’s face a little hazily, realizing that Ben wasn’t Her, and then almost squealing as it realized that he was Ben.

It reached up for him, and fucking Christ, the thing was happy to see him. It was making cute fucking sounds and squeezing his finger, and not a single fucking pussy would ever be allowed to hurt it. Ben would do whatever the hell it took to keep the kid this peaceful, to make it always this happy to see him, to make it so that She and Ryan would have the family they deserved, and Ben could just fucking love them for the rest of goddamn time-

“Ben. Wake up.” A gentle, perfect hand trailed over his face, and he’d fallen asleep. 

He blinked his eyes open to find Her standing between his knees above him, and soft smile playing on Her lips.

“Good dream?”

Ben caught Her hand in his own, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles as he blinked away a little more sleep. “You don’t have a fucking clue.”

She hummed, glancing at Joey, still in his arms. “I think he likes you.”

“He likes that I’m warm-“

“The blanket was warm.” She shrugs. “He likes you.”

Ben grunted. He wouldn’t win this argument, and he knew better than to try. “Where’s Ryan?”

“In his room.” She said, dropping at Ben’s side and smiling at Joey. “We’ve been home for a few hours.”

“A few- You’ve been home hours-“

“Voice down, Benjamin.” She mumbled, leaning Her head against his arm. “And you both looked peaceful. I liked it.”

Ben smirked. Were you watching me sleep, Sunshine-

Yes, I was. And you watch me sleep all the fucking time, Pretty Boy, so shut it.

He chuckled, kissing the side of Her head, and they stayed there until Ryan shuffled down the stairs, stopping behind the couch and staring at Joey in Ben’s arms.

“He’s really small.” Ryan whispered, and Ben coughed to cover his laugh.

“He’s a baby, Ry.” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as She smiled up at Ryan. “We were all that small once.”

“I was never this small.” Ben muttered. “I was a big fucking baby, and you probably were as well, kid.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and She scoffed.

“How big were you, Benjamin.” She narrowed Her eyes. And don’t say you’re still big now.

Don’t need to say it, Sunshine, you know better than damn anyone that I’m big. Ben winked at Her, smirking at her pretty flush as he continued.  “I don’t fucking remember exactly, brat, it was a hundred goddamn years ago-“

She snorted. “So you might have been this tiny-“

“I fucking wasn’t-“

“You could’ve been.” She stuck Her tongue out at him, light dancing in Her eyes. “We’ll never know.”

Ben rolled his eyes, brat, and pulled Her into a long, slow kiss with his free hand, going until She was sighing into his mouth and slumping over his body-

She pushed off Ben’s chest, and something was radiant and zealous in his chest when She leaned back to look at Ryan, and there was an almost drunken smile on Her face.

“Do you need help with more homework-“

“No,” Ryan shook his head, glancing back to Joey. “I- I’m just hungry, but if you’re busy-“

Ben’s brow furrowed. “We look fucking busy, kid?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then it’s dinner.” Ben grunted Her name. “You want ravioli.”

She gave him a wide, toothy smile, Her voice oddly soft. “Yes, please.”

“Ryan-“

“That sounds good.” Ryan nodded slowly, taking a nervous step back. “I- I’ll go wait in my room- And-“

Ben frowned. “You finished your homework?”

Ryan nodded again, and Ben moved to his feet with Joey still carefully in his arms. 

“Stay in here, kid. It’ll be easier to get you.”

“No- I- It’s okay-“

“Ryan?” She twisted fully in Her seat, a gentle frown on Her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just- I don’t-“ Ryan swallowed, bowing his head slightly. “Joey looks really fragile. I don’t- What if I break him?”

She tensed at Ben’s side, and Ben could fucking feel Her aching distress. Feel the presence of Her around his head tightening and spinning, see the sadness all over Her pretty face—almost perfectly matching Ryan’s—and Ben needed to fucking fix this.

“Hold the baby.” 

Ben walked around the couch to put Joey into Ryan’s arms, and the kid just fucking gaped at him.

“But- But I could-“

“You won’t.” Ben snapped, and Ryan shook his head.

“He’s so small, Ben.” He whispered. “And I- I could hurt him.”

“When was the last time you broke something.”

Ryan blinked at him. “What?”

“The last thing you broke on accident, kid.” Ben raised his brows. “When did you break it.”

“I-“ Ryan glanced at Her, but she was just leaning over the back of the couch, tapping Her fingers on the pillows as she watched. “I don’t remember-“

“November.” Ben grunted. “You freaked out during a team dinner and snapped Butcher’s table in half. You’ve had a fuck ton of freak-outs since then, holding shit a lot more delicate than a table, and not a single damn thing has broken. Hold the baby.”

Ryan still didn’t move, only staring between Ben and Joey, and Ben let out a long breath.

“Ryan, do you really fucking think I’d hand you a damn baby if I thought you’d hurt it.”

“N- No-“

“You trust me, kid?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Of course I do-“

“Take the fucking baby.”

Ryan finally got it, and took Joey from Ben’s arms with slow, careful hands.

Nothing exploded. The sky didn’t fall. 

And Ryan smiled, his voice filled with awe. “He looks like Hughie.”

Ben smirked. “He really fucking does. Poor kid.”

She frowned from the couch. “Benjamin-“

“Sunshine.” Ben mocked Her tone as he bent down, picking Her up with a grin and laughing when she squeaked. “You’re hungry, beautiful.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him, whacking his chest. “Don’t fucking do that, you asshole-“

I didn’t do a fucking thing. Ben drawled Her name between their heads, his eyes never leaving Her’s as he moved them out of the room. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us, kid.”

“Okay!” Ryan called after them. “I’ll stay with Joey!”

All the mock anger in Her eyes dissolved in a second, Ben leaned down to kiss Her—long and sloppy and heavy—as he set Her on the counter, and when he pulled away, Her smile was fucking perfect.

She was hanging off of Ben’s arm the entire time he made dinner, smiling at Ben like he’d handed Her the fucking moon when it was only damn pasta.

What-

I love you, Benjamin. She whispered between their minds. So much.

Ben kissed Her brow, tracing his thumb over Her cheekbone. Love you too, Sunshine.

You’re really good at this. With Ryan and Joey.

He shrugged. I’ll be even fucking better with Ryan and our kid.

And that was the damn truth. Because Ben could finish dinner and help Her serve, and he could eat around the table with Her and Ryan, but when the baby cried it wasn’t his baby. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Joey—he was adorable, seemed alright for a baby, and Ben would never fucking tell Her, but while She’d been gone Joey had been chewing toothlessly on Ben’s finger and it had been the cutest thing he’d seen in his fucking life—but Ben wanted the kid to be theirs. 

He wanted to set up the TV while She and Ryan cleared the plates, let Ryan chose what they were watching for family movie, and have Her sitting on Ben’s lap with their kid in Her arms. Ben wanted to lean over Her shoulder and see sharp eyes blinking up at him, to hear the baby make a bubbly little noise and for it to sound like Her voice.

He wanted Ryan to help put his sibling to bed before shuffling off to his own room, and he wanted to be standing here with Her over the crib—wrapping his arms around Her stomach and swaying back and forth in the dark—as they looked at their baby.

Joey looked so fucking peaceful in there, and Ben could see it again. A future where She’d be just like this, and the baby was really fucking theirs. It’s in a sturdier, bomb-proof crib built by Frenchie, and reaching for Her—because who fucking wouldn’t—and when it made a noise, Ben’s whole fucking world would get a little bigger.

I want one. Ben muttered between their heads, pressing a kiss to the side of Her head, and She hummed.

I know, my love. She smiled up at him, and Ben was going to fucking explode. In the dim light—with sleepy eyes and raw fucking love written all over Her perfect features—She’s was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I’m sure I can find one for you.

End Note: Finally gave Ben a middle name. I don’t care what kripke and any future spinoffs say. That’s his middle name now, because it’s the funniest possible option.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[xobunni0]

𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃’ 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➵ ℳ𝓔𝓝𝓤

- DAY 2 💌 , friend!shadow, confession, fluff, wc-1537

Shadow loved being in control; in control over his emotions, his actions, his thoughts. but when it came to you that control crumbled completely

and that was unacceptable.

you were his friend. nothing more. nothing less. someone who had somehow wedged into his life

yet here he was, standing outside your apartment door hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, shoulders tense. the cold night air cooling against him, but he barely felt it. his pulse could be heard in his ears

he had been standing here for at least five minutes. maybe longer.

it was ridiculous. the idea of knocking on your door left him paralyzed

it was just you. his friend.

but that was the problem wasn’t it? you were just his friend. and he was just a coward who couldn’t say the words that would make you see him as anything else.

his fingers twitched toward the door then curled back into a fist. you had invited him over, for what reason? he wasn’t sure of.

it was just going to be you. him. and that terrified him.

he exhaled sharply forcing himself to knock. once. twice. a second later he heard footsteps. then the door cracked open and there you were hair slightly tousled, wearing a loose sweater that looked too soft for your own good eyes blinking up at him in confusion before softening.

“perfect, you're here to help me make cupcakes!” you said, this what you invited him over for…

cupcakes?

he stared at you, trying to piece together how that was relevant to whatever this was.. this weird, nervous feeling coiling in his chest the reason he had been standing outside your apartment debating whether to knock in the first place

with a quiet exhale, shadow followed

your kitchen was small but cozy, the counters cluttered with bags of flour, sugar, and other baking essentials. a recipe on top of the counter though you didn’t seem too concerned about following it exactly. you handed him a whisk.

“Alright you’re on mixing.”

Shadow eyed the whisk like it was a foreign object.

“I don’t bake.”

“you do tonight!” you said, dumping ingredients into the bowl. “It’s just stirring. you can handle that right?”

he scoffed but took the whisk, moving it through the batter.

the room was quiet except for the soft scrape of the whisk against the bowl. it should have been comfortable but Shadow felt restless. his mind was screaming at him to say something anything

god he couldn’t stop staring. even if we wanted to he couldn’t.

you were humming to yourself as you spooned cupcake batter into the tray, completely unaware of what was going in in his mind. the way a few loose strands of hair framed your face perfectly, the way your sweater hung a little too loosely over your frame, the slight flour that had gotten on ur temple. it was all so you. and it was driving him insane.

because all he could think about was what would happen if he just said it.

if he turned to you right now and admitted what had been clawing at his chest for months. if he just told you how you made him feel, how sometimes he just wanted to kiss you badly, how sometimes he found himself wanting to hear your voice when he was alone.

how would you react?

would you laugh? brush it off as a joke? or worse would you look at him with that soft, apologetic expression that told him you didn’t feel the same?

the thought made his stomach twist.

“You’re quiet again” you noted, glancing at him as you slid the tray into the oven. “What’s on your mind?”

you. always you.

but instead, he just shrugged leaning against the counter fingers drumming lightly against the surface. “Nothing.”

you sighed, unconvinced. “one day, you’re actually gonna tell me what’s on your mind, you know.”

he huffed, looking away. “Doubtful.”

either way, he was infuriating.

because no matter how obvious it was, no matter how many times you caught him staring when he thought you wouldn’t notice, no matter how he always found excuses to be near you he still wouldn’t say it.

and you were getting tired of waiting.

you stole a glance at him now, leaning against the counter arms crossed lost in thought. his eyes had that faraway look again, like he was lost in thought, you wanted to shake him to tell him to stop overthinking and just say it already.

but instead, you sighed and grabbed the two frosting containers. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

Shadow blinked, pulled from whatever internal debate he was having. he eyed the options then shrugged. “Chocolate.”

“you sure are slow when it comes to making decisions.” you remarked, popping open the container.

something changed in his expression just for a second. then it was gone. “I don’t make decisions without thinking them through.”

you leaned against the counter beside him, crossing your arms. “And how long does it take before you finally do something?”

Shadow tensed just slightly. maybe it was your imagination, but you swore his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for something. for you.

you held his gaze, waiting.

his jaw clenched. then, just like always he looked away.

of course he did.

you exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you grabbed a spoon and started stirring the frosting with more force than necessary. “you are so frustrating, you know that?”

Shadow didn’t respond. but out of the corner of your eye, you saw his fingers curl into a fist.

you were both too stubborn to say first.

after all friends didn’t ruin things. friends didn’t make things complicated. right?

you didn’t know what possessed you to do it. maybe it was the tension that had been growing between you two for months. maybe it was frustration. maybe it was just him the way he was always so composed, so impossible to read.

for whatever the reason, before you could second-guess yourself, you swiped a dollop of chocolate frosting onto your finger and smudged it right onto Shadow’s cheek.

for a moment, he didn’t move.

he just stared at you, his red eyes wide with something unreadable.

then, slowly, he reached up, swiped a finger across his cheek and examined the frosting like he couldn’t quite believe you had actually done that.

as he turned toward the sink, you scooped up another bit of frosting and without hesitation again smeared it across the back of his neck.

you let out a startled laugh, shadow had lunged forward. before you could make it two steps, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back toward him. the sudden shift in weight threw you off balance, and you tumbled backward taking him down with you.

you landed on the kitchen floor, Shadow landing directly on top of you

for a moment, neither of you moved. the only sound in the room was the distant ticking of the oven timer, and the shallow rise and fall of your breaths

you blinked up at him.

Shadow hovered just inches above you, his hands on either side of your head, his chest pressed lightly against yours. his breath was warm against your cheek and you could feel the warmth radiating from him his entire body locked in place as if one wrong move would send him over the edge.

your own breath hitched. your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it

this was closer than you’d ever been. too close. and yet… not close enough.

Shadow’s gaze flickered to your lips.

just for a second.

you saw it. you felt it..

say it.

you didn’t know if you were pleading with him or yourself but the words were on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out and break whatever existed between you.

Shadow swallowed hard. his jaw clenched.

his voice was low, strained like the words had been clawing at his throat for too long.

“I like you.”

your breath caught.

“I’ve liked you for a long time” he admitted, eyes never leaving yours. “but you’re my friend. and if I said anything if I ruined what we already had I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I wasn’t willing to risk it.”

Shadow searched your face like his entire world depended on your next move. like he was waiting for rejection, for you to laugh it off or tell him this was all some mistake.

but you didn’t.

Instead, you smiled the kind of smile that made his chest tighten in ways he still didn’t fully understand.

then without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek

Shadow froze.

he let out a slow breath, his mind still struggling to catch up. your lips had been warm against his skin, soft, real. you were real. And you weren’t pushing him away.

you actually… wanted this.

his crimson eyes stayed locked onto yours, searching for any hint of doubt. any hesitation. but there was none. only you.

day 3 out this friday!💌

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ⏦ﾟᢉ𐭩 - 𓊆ྀི𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི

[ruewritesoccasionally]

hi girl could u do a Aaron x reader on a red carpet type of thing?

pairing: aaron pierre x black reader

warnings: pure fluff, implied flirting, suggestive whispering, Aaron being obsessed with Reader (as he should)

summary: Aaron is being honoured at a red carpet event, and Reader—his date and the love of his life—is by his side. She’s nervous, but Aaron is there every step of the way, making sure she feels like the star of the night. Between teasing interviews, stolen glances, and a whisper that nearly makes her lose composure, it’s clear to everyone—especially the cameras—that Aaron Pierre is absolutely smitten.

word count: 514

a/n: i have such love/hate relationship with asks cos when they're vague, it means that i have full creative control which is exciting but it's also overwhelming cos then idk if it's come out how the reader wants it to 😭😭 but anon, i hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking !

The flash of cameras was relentless, a steady wave of light as Aaron guided her down the red carpet with effortless ease. His hand rested at the small of her back, his touch a quiet reassurance beneath the whirlwind of it all.

“Breathe, love,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, a whisper of warmth against her skin. “You look beautiful. They’re all going to be obsessed with you.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding, though the weight of a hundred eyes still pressed against her. This wasn’t her world—flashing lights, interviewers shouting names, the hum of celebrity chatter all around. But it was his. And somehow, standing beside him, fingers lightly grazing his, she didn’t feel so out of place.

They paused at a checkpoint, a journalist calling out to Aaron. “How does it feel to be honoured tonight?”

Aaron’s smile was immediate, easy, but before answering, he glanced down at her. “Feels like the real honour is having her here with me.” His voice held that familiar warmth, that teasing edge, and she rolled her eyes even as her lips curved.

“You��re so full of it,” she murmured.

“You love it.”

She did.

They moved further along, cameras flashing, their chemistry undeniable. The way Aaron absentmindedly adjusted the drape of her gown, how his fingers trailed over the dip of her waist. How, when she stumbled slightly—heels catching on the plush carpet—his reaction was seamless, catching her as if it was second nature.

Twitter was already in shambles.

📸 @PopCultureDaily: Aaron Pierre catching his girl like they’re in a rom-com?? We are SICK.

📸 @FilmFanatic: He’s so obsessed with her it’s actually unfair.

“Aaron, what did you just whisper to her?” another journalist called out, eager for a soundbite.

Aaron barely blinked. “Nothing fit for broadcast.”

The reporter laughed, and YN pressed her lips together, trying to fight the warmth creeping up her neck. Because what he’d actually said, voice husky against her ear, was—

“As good as you look in this dress, I can’t wait to take it off you.”

She nudged his ribs discreetly, and Aaron only grinned, charming and utterly unbothered.

The rest of the carpet was a blur of moments—shared glances, stolen touches, inside jokes murmured between posed smiles. But the real moment, the one that mattered, came later, when they finally had a second away from the chaos.

She relaxed as they stepped into a quieter space, heels aching, adrenaline still buzzing beneath her skin. Aaron turned to her, eyes tracing over her face with something softer now, something private.

“You did amazing,” he said, voice quieter now. “I know this isn’t your world, but… you handled it like you were made for it.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “Oh, so I’m a natural now?”

Aaron leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “You’ve always been.”

And just like that, the lights, the noise, the cameras—it all faded away. Because here, in his arms, was the only place that ever felt like home.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[kkarinaaz]

synopsis : the air between you is thick with tension, every glance a silent dare, every word dripping with unspoken promises . the game is set, the rules are clear, who will break first ? .

warnings : suggestive content, heavy tension, teasing, flirting, passionate kissing, and implied intimacy, 18+ .

wordcount : 1.6k

the restaurant was beautiful—candlelit tables, soft jazz humming in the background, and an air of romance that made the night feel electric. but none of that mattered. not really. because the real reason your skin was buzzing with anticipation sat across from you, exuding effortless charm in a sleek black button-down that hugged his frame in all the right ways.

sunghoon looked good tonight. too good. his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his toned forearms, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, giving you a sinful glimpse of his collarbones. his silver rings glinted under the candlelight as he swirled the wine in his glass, his fingers lazy and calculated. he was relaxed, but the way his eyes flickered over you—slow, deliberate, like he was committing every inch of you to memory—told you he was anything but.

“you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and i might start thinking you have plans for me tonight,” he teased, his voice smooth like honey.

you smirked, resting your chin on your palm. “and what if i do?”

sunghoon sucked in a slow breath, his tongue briefly running over his lower lip as he watched you. “then i’d say you’re playing a very, very dangerous game.”

he always did this—pushed you just enough to get a reaction, his words always dancing on the edge of something more. but tonight? tonight, you weren’t just going to sit there and take it.

you leaned forward slightly, letting your fingers graze the rim of your wine glass. “and what if i like playing with fire?”

a muscle in his jaw ticked. just for a second. if you weren’t looking so closely, you would’ve missed it.

his smirk deepened. “then i hope you’re ready to get burned.”

your stomach flipped. the tension between you was thick—tangible. every stolen glance, every lingering touch of his fingers against yours as he reached for his glass, every slow sweep of his tongue over his lips—it was driving you insane.

dinner stretched on with playful banter, but beneath it was something heavier, something neither of you were bothering to hide anymore. sunghoon was watching you like a predator, his voice dropping an octave every time he spoke, his touches becoming bolder, more intentional.

by the time dessert arrived, your patience was hanging by a thread.

you dragged your spoon through the creamy dessert before slowly bringing it to your lips, making sure to lick off the excess in an almost exaggerated motion. sunghoon’s eyes darkened instantly. he exhaled through his nose, watching you intently as you hummed.

“that good?” he asked, voice lower now.

you nodded, tapping your spoon against the plate. “wanna try?”

he smirked, but instead of reaching for the spoon, he reached for your hand instead.

before you could react, his fingers curled around yours, guiding them toward his lips. slowly—excruciatingly slowly—he took your fingers into his mouth, licking the sweetness off with a lazy swirl of his tongue.

your breath hitched.

the warmth of his mouth, the way his lips wrapped around your fingers before he finally pulled away with a quiet pop—it sent a shiver down your spine.

sunghoon chuckled, his voice husky. “sweet,” he murmured. “but I think i want something even sweeter.”

your heart pounded. “and what would that be?”

his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up. “i think you already know.”

at that point, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. you weren’t even pretending to focus on anything else. every fiber of your being was tuned into him, into the heat rolling off him in waves, into the way his fingers were now tracing slow circles against your wrist.

and judging by the way he was looking at you, he wasn’t planning to wait much longer either.

the second you stepped outside, the cool night air did little to calm the fire raging between you.

sunghoon’s hand found the small of your back as he guided you toward his car, but his touch wasn’t light anymore. it was firm, possessive, like he was barely holding himself back.

the moment the doors shut, the tension that had been simmering all night finally snapped.

“you,” sunghoon murmured, voice thick with something darker, “are the most infuriating woman i’ve ever met.”

you barely had time to process before he leaned in, his lips hovering just over yours.

but he didn’t kiss you.

no. sunghoon was still playing.

his breath ghosted over your skin as he tilted his head slightly, his fingers tracing up your thigh, slow, teasing. his other hand cradled your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“tell me,” he whispered, his lips barely grazing yours, “are you done playing?”

your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to smirk, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “i don’t know,” you murmured back, your lips brushing his just enough to make his grip tighten. “are you?”

sunghoon exhaled sharply. then, finally, finally, he kissed you.

the second his lips met yours, the tension that had been suffocating you both exploded into something hungrier, something desperate. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him, and you could feel his smirk against your lips when you let out a soft gasp.

his tongue traced along your lower lip before slipping inside, deepening the kiss, tasting you in a way that made your head spin. his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you even closer, and the low groan he let out against your mouth sent a delicious shiver straight down your spine.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing was heavy. his fingers, still tracing patterns against your thigh, tightened slightly.

“let’s go home,” he murmured, his voice rough.

the way he said it sent heat pooling in your stomach. because you both knew—once you got home, there wouldn’t be any more teasing. no more games.

just you, him, and everything you’d both been holding back all night.

picasso, ya like ? . 😃

masterlist | home | suggested music

[writinglionqueen]

How's Your Head

It hurt.

Goddamn did it hurt.

Your head was pounding as the crew rush you backstage after receiving a nasty bump from your match. Your ears were ringing and the lights were starting to look like a kaleidoscope with every uneven step.

Of course you would receive such a bump during your match; hitting your head on one of the ring posts. It almost knocked you out but the hot feeling of blood running down your head kept you in until you got the win. But it wasn't long until the crew come down to get you out of the ring. They were quick to rush you to the medical room so they could inspect your condition there.

And not far behind you and the crew, you knew Drew was there. He had watched your match backstage like he always did. So, he had watched as you hit your head and everything. He was probably worried out of his mind for you, given the nature of the relationship you and him head. And you had faintly heard his voice through the crew's utterings of what to do when they got you to the room. You couldn't pay him any mind as one of the medical personnel looked at your head assessing if your wound needed any stitches or staples.

"Good and bad news," the medic said. "The good news is that it's not that deep or big. Bad news is that it you will need a couple staples." You gave a thumbs up to let them know you had heard and to proceed. The person was quick to numb the area, staple you up and clean what they could. "There's a good chance you have a concussion. I want you to lie down when you get to your hotel. Turn the lights out. I was gonna say that I was gonna fetch someone to take you to your hotel but I'm sure the Scotsman outside will take you, he's been outside since we started this." You nodded very slightly. Your head was still ringing.

The medic left, closing the door behind them. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping the pain would die away. Maybe the medic had told you they had something for you to take when they were done but you didn't hear it and you didn't dare open your eyes to try and find it. And this was your first head injury since the start of your career. At least one that caused you to now be concussed. You wondered what you needed to do because of this. Drew would know.

The door clicked open and footsteps came into the room. It was Drew. No doubt about it.

"You ok?" he asked you as quietly as he could. He probably knew what you were feeling and new that loud sounds would only make it worse.

"Yeah," you hoarsely say.

"Looks like they left you something to take for the pain if you haven't taken anything yet," he mentioned. You gave a quick sigh of relief.

"That's good, I need it."

"How's your head?"

"Never had any complaints," your PG-13 mind was very quick to quip even with the pounding your head was feeling. Of course you wouldn't miss a beat.

Your quip had Drew chuckling.

"You know Princess, when you're up for it I'll take you up on the offer," he said to you. "But for now, let's get you to the hotel to rest up." You smiled at that.

"That sounds nice," you sigh. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?" Another chuckle sounded from Drew.

"Not as much as you will when you're no longer concussed."

You wanted to laugh. You really did but the act of smiling made your head pound worse.

"Fuuuuck," you groaned before holding your hand out. "Give me the pills first then we can go." Drew sighed.

You both could tell this was going to be a long night...and not in a fun way.

~~~

So I had a funny quip that I thought would make a good quick fic...and i ran with it. Sorry y'all that it's been a while since I've given you a real fic. Life's life haha!

Hope you like this though. If you did please don't forget to like and reblog for support. 💛🖤

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[witchygagirlwrites]

Together

Jay Halstead x Reader

You push people away. It's how you cope. Only a chosen few has managed to stick around. Jay is going to prove he's not going anywhere.

You were pulling away. You could feel it and knew Jay could too. The problem? You didn’t know how to not pull away. That little voice in your head that was so damn sure and strong when it came to work was so damn quiet and uncertain when it came to yourself. You loved Jay. You knew that with every fiber of your being but that damn little voice kept whispering “He can do better than you and he's going to figure it out”

As much as you didn't want to lose him as your lover, the thought of losing him as your friend hurt worse. He'd always been there as a cornerstone when you needed him.

When Voight suggested changing partners around you'd seen the fact that Jay wanted to argue written plainly in his eyes but you spoke up and said “I agree Sarge. It's good to switch it up every now and then”

You were partnered with Adam, Kim with Jay and Hailey with Kevin. It was a big change from the usual team but all of you worked well enough together, had for years.

While you were all gearing up to roll out you saw Jay move towards you so you turned towards Hailey “Upton, check that rear strap for me?” She smiled “Of course” and readjusted it slightly then asked you to check hers too. At least by her asking you it didn't just look like you were avoiding Jay, even if he looked like a kicked puppy when you met his eyes.

“Everyone knows what you should be doing. Come home in one piece” Voight said looking around at all of you. You each nodded in turn. You grabbed your long gun then winked at Kim “Don't worry babe. I got your fella’s back” she grinned “I know you do. I got Jay's”

You smiled slightly and Kevin cleared his throat “and Hailey’s got mine if yall care” your smile turned into a full grin as you cut your eyes at him “You know I care Atwater. Anything happen to you I'm fighting the ferrymen to bring you back myself” he grinned “My girl” and bumped his shoulder against yours.

Voight shook his head but you saw a small grin “Do your damn jobs” with that he dismissed you so you rolled out. It was a quick snatch and grab. You wouldn't say nothing should go wrong because you knew your job, anything could go wrong but it should be fairly easy.

The snatch and grab went down just as planned thankfully. Six arrests were successfully made.

You were walking out of the precinct when you heard Jay call your name so you stopped and turned to see him walking towards you with one of those smiles that always made your heart flip “Hey baby. You want to go get a drink or some food or something?”

You shrugged “I'm kinda tired honestly. I was going to just go home and crash” he nodded “I can bring takeout?” He looked so damn hopeful but that voice in your head wouldn't shut up for two fucking seconds screaming about how bad it's gonna hurt if you let yourself love him as deeply as you wanted to just for him to walk away.

“It's fine honey. Um raincheck for tomorrow?” He nodded, his face falling slightly. “Ok, did I do something?” You shook your head “No, why?” he motioned back to the precinct “I've seen you stand toe to toe with Voight over trying to make you partner with anyone else and today you agreed. You haven't wanted to go out or let me come over in days. Baby is there someone else?”

Your eyes widened slightly “What?” He shrugged “I don't know here. I mean we were doing good, I thought. Is it because we had sex? Are you pulling away because of that?” You shook your head, trying not to let your eyes tear up “No Jay, of course not. Sex with you is fucking amazing”

He grinned slightly “Then why have you barely let me kiss you all week?” You shrugged and opened your mouth to say something then clamped it back “I don't want to talk here. Can you grab the takeout?” He nodded “I'll be over in a few ok?” “Ok” he took a step closer and when you didn't pull away he pressed a kiss to your temple.

You sat on your couch, waiting for Jay to knock. When he did you were up and on your feet without thinking. You opened the door to let him in and he walked in carrying the takeout bags “I got Chinese”

He walked into your kitchen as you closed and locked the front door and you heard him putting the take out trays across the counter and throwing the plastic bag into your recycling bin before he walked back into the living room, shedding his jacket and walking over to you.

He stopped just shy of you and raised one eyebrow, silently asking permission. You stepped closer to him, slipping your arms around his waist and he pulled you against his chest “There's my girl. I was wondering where she went”

You cut your eyes up at him “I'm sorry I pushed you away Jay. It's just I think I realized I was falling in love with you and I freaked out because I don't even know why you're with me and…” you were cut off by him kissing you like he was a drowning man and you were the last taste of air.

You moaned lightly against his lips and when he finally pulled away both of you were breathing a little harder “You love me?” He asked and you nodded “I do” he grinned “Good, because I love you but get it straight from here on there will be no pushing me away. You try to push me? I'll grab you and pin you to a wall. We're in this together” you chuckled lightly “You just used you pinning me to a wall as a threat. That is a fantasy Halstead”

He smirked “Oh yeah? Well baby I can make that reality right now. Just tell me you love me one more time” you smiled “I love you Jay” he groaned lightly and leaned down far enough to pick you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist “I've went the last week and a half barely touching you. I'm making up for it tonight”

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "The One Who Got Away"

You had spent the evening curled up on the couch, watching reruns of your favorite show, trying to forget about everything that had happened earlier that day. Your heart had been heavy for a while now. The world felt dull without Marshall in it, without his chaotic, yet comforting presence. The silence in your apartment felt suffocating. You missed him—more than you wanted to admit.

Suddenly, a knock at your door startled you. It was late. Who could it be?

You stood up, your mind racing, but when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. Standing before you, looking disheveled and vulnerable in a hoodie and jeans, was Marshall—Eminem himself. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion, regret, and raw emotion.

"Marshall?" you whispered, feeling your pulse quicken. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced around nervously before stepping inside, his eyes avoiding yours. "Can we talk?" he asked quietly, almost pleading.

You stepped back, allowing him in. You hadn't seen him in months, not since the day he left you. The day everything fell apart.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, taking a deep breath. "I—I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have left you like I did. I was trying to be a better person for Kim, but I hurt you. And I hate myself for it."

You blinked, unsure of what to say. You had been carrying the pain of his sudden departure for so long, the hole in your chest growing with each passing day. "You left me when I needed you the most," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't understand why you did it, Marshall."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, and you saw the pain there, the guilt. "Kim... when she got pregnant, I thought I had to do the right thing. I thought I had to be there for her and for the baby. I thought I was being a good guy, but in doing that, I ended up breaking your heart."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I loved you, Marshall. I gave you everything. And you just... left."

He stepped closer, his voice breaking. "I know, and I regret it more than you could ever imagine. But I was scared. I didn’t know how to juggle everything. I didn't want to hurt Kim or the baby, but I ended up hurting you... the one person who didn’t deserve it."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. You had never seen Marshall like this before—so raw, so open. "Why are you here now?" you asked softly, a mix of anger and hurt still lingering in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his hands trembling slightly. "Because I can't live with myself anymore knowing I fucked up. I was a coward, and I made the worst decision of my life when I walked away from you. I thought it was the right thing to do, but... it wasn’t. You were always the one I needed. The one I wanted. And I fucked it up."

The tears that you had been holding back spilled over, and you wiped your face, trying to hide the pain. "But it's too late, Marshall. You made your choice."

He shook his head, his eyes desperate. "Please... don't say that. I know I can't change the past, but I can try to make things right. I can try to show you how sorry I am. I’ve been an idiot."

For a moment, you said nothing. Your mind was racing, torn between the anger of the past and the feelings you still had for him. You wanted to push him away, to tell him it was too late, but part of you, the part that had never stopped loving him, couldn't do it.

Slowly, you took a step forward, closing the space between you. "You hurt me, Marshall. You left me when I needed you the most."

He nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry."

You searched his face, the man who had once been your everything. "Why now?" you asked again, your voice shaky. "Why come back now, after all this time?"

"Because I’m done lying to myself," he replied, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I was an asshole, and I was afraid of my own feelings. But now, I know the truth. I love you. I always have, and I always will. I was just too fucking scared to admit it."

Your breath caught in your throat. Could this be real? Could he really mean this?

"Marshall..." you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

He reached out, taking your hand gently in his, as if afraid you'd pull away. "I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please... can we try again? Can we start over?"

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this was what you needed too.

With a shaky breath, you nodded. "Yeah... we can try."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

----

A/N this could be a new series guys I swear this is so cute and angsty.

[ifitsnotmethenwhothefuck]

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

So imagine this: Vil has been working really hard for this new product launch for his makeup brand.

The whole thing is this huge lip set of over 20 lipsticks, lip glosses, lip liners, lip stains, and lip plumper, all of them are standing from different shades and colors that he personally picked out.

Now the product should release on Feb 14, but before that he plans on doing a photo shoot to showcase all the different shades and colors, but he’s having some trouble deciding on what makeup look to do for the shoot.

So he asks you to come by and help him with his makeup, which nearly shocks you to death because you never thought he would ask you for help regarding makeup.

Story, type: one shot

Warning: Kissing, fluff, pet names

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x Reader (surprise character at the end)

AN: I didn’t plan on this being a story, but it kind of turned into one I’ve never written for Vil before, but I tried 😅.

You got a text message from Vil early in the morning saying he needs help with his makeup. You’re dumbfounded. Shocked even, Vil Schoenheit needs help with his makeup, and he’s coming to you of all people to ask for it.

Well, if anyone wants the bragging rights saying that they helped Vil with their makeup, it’s you of all people. Wasting no time and rushing over to his room, you find him already with a full face of makeup. He looked amazing, a little bit more glamorous than normal with a smoky red eyes and dark red lips. You were confused; how exactly did he need your help if he looked this good?

“Oh, you’re here. Come inside,” Vil says as he closes the door behind you and makes his way back to his vanity, where he sits down. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted my help with your makeup.” You asked slightly confused. He turns around to look at you.

“Oh, I do,” he says, looking at you like you’ve just asked him the most stupid question ever, as he proceeds to wipe his makeup off with a cotton pad soaked in makeup remover, wiping away his hard work with each stroke of his hand, leaving you speechless. That had to have taken hours. Why is he just wiping it away?

“I don’t get it; your makeup already looked amazing. How could I possibly help?” you asked as Vil finished removing the last bit of makeup from his face; you didn’t notice how his eyes averted from yours when you asked that question, “Don’t worry, sweet potato. I’m not asking you to do anything outside your skill set; just help me decide on a look for my product shoot.” He said with a small smirk as he turned back around and started applying new makeup to his face.

You both sat in a comfortable silence as you watched him apply new makeup; you noticed he was going for a more natural look than what he normally did. It didn’t look bad or anything; he could definitely pull it off. He could practically pull off anything, but you were a little surprised, ever since you’ve gotten to know him. You’ve never seen him. Try to go for this kind of look before.

“If you keep on staring at me like that, you’ll burn a hole in my clothes, and I don’t think you can afford to have these tailored.” Vil said as he looked at you through his vanity mirror, a blush forming on your cheeks as you looked down, realizing what you were doing. “Sorry,” you said softly, slightly embarrassed.

“No need to apologize, sweet potato; I was actually about to ask you for your help,” he says with a small smirk as he turns around to look at you. “You were?” You say slightly shocked you had kind of suspected you weren’t really going to help him with his makeup rather just help him pick out what look to do for his shoot?

“That is why I asked you to come over, isn’t it?” He says to you as if stating the most obvious thing in the world, which he probably was. “That’s true,” you say softly, mostly to yourself. “Anyway, if you’re going to help me, grab a chair and come over here.” You do as you’re told and sit across from him.

Several of his new lipsticks are lined up on his vanity in front of him as you both look at them. “Which one do you think we should start with?” Vil asks as he looks up at you. “I really like the dark red one,” you say, pointing to one of the tubes of lipstick. A small sigh escapes from Vil’s lips. “You mean the burgundy one?” Vil says, picking up the lipstick you pointed to. “Yeah, that one,” you say with a small smile.

“Okay, so all I need to do is put it on you.” You ask a little hesitantly as Vil has yet to hand the lipstick over to you. “Not quite,” Vil says as he looks down, avoiding your eyes. You tilt your head and look at him in confusion. “I actually need to put this on you.” Vil says, staring back up at you, “I don’t understand. Aren’t I supposed to be helping you with YOUR makeup?” you ask, confused.

“Patient sweet potato, you’ll get to do my makeup soon enough, but for now, can I please put this on you?” Vil asked as he took the lid off of the lipstick and gently placed it on his vanity. “Okay I guess there’s no harm in it” you say as Vil gives you a approving smile “that’s great to hear if you don’t mind I need you to come a little closer” Vil says as he grabs the bottom of your chair and pulls you closer to him your legs in between one another now “do I really have to be this close” you ask slightly embarrassed as a small blush forms on your cheeks, “unfortunately yes” Vil says as he gently grab your face. “Now please don’t move.” He says as he fully focuses on your lips as you stare at him, he gently applies his lipstick to you.

After a moment or two, Vil finally pulled away and gently placed the lipstick on the vanity. He stared at you, well, your lips at least, admiring his handiwork. “Alright, I think that’s good,” he says, looking up at you. “What exactly do you want me to do now?” You ask, not sure how this was supposed to help with his makeup.

“Well, you kiss me, of course,” he said, looking into your eyes to see if he could read your emotions; meanwhile, you felt like your heart had stopped beating as your face began to heat up. “Y-you want me to k-kiss you?” you said instantly, wondering if you had misheard him. “Only if you feel comfortable with it,” he said with a small sigh.

“Oh no, I don’t feel uncomfortable or anything. This is just a bit surprising,“ you say, avoiding his eyes “Well then, can you start off by giving me two right here?” he says, and as you look up at him, seeing him point his long, slender finger to his temple, you feel a little more relaxed, knowing you didn’t have to give him a ‘normal kiss,’ but there was also a part of you that was slightly disappointed. “Umm, okay,“ you said before leaning in closer to him and softly placing a kiss onto his temple and another one underneath it on his cheekbone, you pulled away just enough so he could turn his face so you could do the same thing to the other side.

When you were done, you quickly leaned away from him. “What now?” you ask, trying to sound confident. “Now we change the color,” Vil said dismissively as he grabbed a cotton pad and soaked it in makeup remover before looking over at you. “Do you want me to help you take that off?” He asked as his eyes lingered on your lips. You felt like your mind was going blank. What was he asking? He wanted you to take something off your face, instantly heating up. “Oh, umm, sure,” you said with a small mark.

Before you knew it, he was leaning in closer to you, one of his hands gently cupping your face while his other carefully rubbed the cotton pad against your lips. Taking off the lipstick when he was done, he picked up a brighter red lipstick and applied it to you. ”Okay, I need one right here and here,“ he said, pointing to two new spots, one below the arch of his brow on his eyelid and the other on the corner of his eye.

You gently placed the new kiss marks on each eye before leading away from him; a small thank you left his lips before he looked at himself in his vanity mirror. He made a few touch-ups, putting blush on the high of his cheekbones, then he handed you his phone. You looked at him confused for a moment before he spoke. “I need you to take some photos of me.” He said, casually, “Right,” you said softly as you snapped a couple of photos of him, as he give you his best model face.

You handed him back his phone as he looked at all the photos with a very serious expression. “Well, I guess my work here is done” you say awkwardly as he puts his phone down looking at you with a confused look, “not quite I still have a few more looks I want to try on” he said as he landed in closer to you, wiping your lips, clean with a cotton path,

He then wiped off the kiss marks from his face and touched up the rest of his makeup, giving himself a smoky purple eye that matched one of the dark violet lipsticks he picked it loo up, and started to apply it to your lips, carefully. “Okay, love, I need you to kiss me right here,” he said, pointing to his cheek.

You did as you were told, leaning closer to him and closing your eyes as you placed a kiss on his cheek. It was quick and simple, but it still left you feeling flustered as you pulled away. “Thanks, love, I just need to take a few more photos, and then we can move onto the final look,” he said, giving you a small smile as he handed you his phone. You nodded your head in understanding as you took his phone.

You proceeded to take several photos of him. Your favorite one was of him looking over his shoulder at you when you were done; you handed him back his phone, and he looked through all the photos. Deleting the ones that weren’t up to his taste. “What lipstick do you think we should try out for the final look?” he asked, as he started to wipe off his makeup before removing your lipstick.

“What about this one?” You asked as you pointed to a rosy pink lipstick. Vil didn’t really say anything in response; rather, he just picked it up and started applying it to you. “I have to touch up my makeup, and then we can start,” Vil said as he set the lipstick back down on the vanity. He then proceeded to touch up his makeup. Putting on a soft pink eyeshadow with a sharp black cat liner, when he was done, he traced one of his slender fingers along his jaw, down his neck, and across his collarbone as the words “from here to here” fell off his lips ever so gently. You felt a warm blush creep up again as you tried to stop yourself from feeling flustered, but it was getting hard to do so.

You leaned into him, your hands resting on his chest as your legs intertwined with one another’s, taking your time in between each kiss, your lips ghosting over his skin as you traveled to the next place you would mark with your kiss, your hot breath heating up his cold skin, sending goosebumps up his neck.

You placed random kisses along his jawline, leaning back for a second only to admire your work before traveling down his neck. As you kissed along his Adam's apple, you had to stop yourself from jumping from shock as you felt his hands grab your waist. “Was—was he enjoying this?” you thought to yourself as you placed more kiss marks down his neck and along his collarbone.

It helped that his shirt had a low V neckline, making it easy to access his chest as you placed random kisses onto him. You could have sworn you heard him make a low noise as you kissed his collarbone, but perhaps it was just your imagination. You slowly pulled away as you looked up at him. You both were just inches apart as you softly spoke, “I think that’s good,” you said, as you felt your voice get trapped in your throat. You hoped he didn’t notice how flushed you were.

He looked into your eyes as if they were his own choice of poison. “You did a great job. love, I’ll have to reward you for helping me.” He said, giving you a small smile, his hands still laced on your hips; you felt your body betray you. As your voice got stuck in your throat, your face heating up, “Well, thank you for thinking of me, but I think helping you was enough of a reward,” you said, not realizing you were leaning closer to him, the corners of his lips curling up into a smirk. “Oh, did you perhaps enjoy kissing me a bit too much?” he said in a teasing tone as his hand slid up your back.

“And if I did?” You asked, leaning in closer, your lips only inches apart from each other. His eyes lingered on your lips that were painted in his pink lipstick, and before you knew it, he closed the distance. Your lips met in a soft and delicate kiss. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for enjoying myself,” he said softly as his lips ghosted over yours.

A small smile played on your lips before you closed the distance again. Your lips met in a slightly more hungry kiss as his hands slid up your body and your own hands slid up into his hair, deepening the kiss, the taste of lipstick and roses, as your tongues danced with each other, soft gasps filled the room as you moaned into each other’s kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath.

You lean away from Vil as he takes a quick look in the mirror. Surprisingly, none of your earlier kiss marks were messed up, although he did have lipstick smudged around his mouth that he needed to wipe off after he touched up his makeup. He grabbed his phone. “Do you mind, love?” He said, giving you a small smile as he handed you his phone.

You were still blushing from what just happened, your whole body feeling hot. You were honestly a little jealous how he seemed to be handling it so perfectly. Not wanting to seem immature, you took his phone, and an awkward laugh left your lips before you spoke. “Not at all,” you said, hoping this won’t be the last time you get to kiss Vil Schoenheit, but you didn’t want to tell him that.

He gave you a thankful smile before you started to take more photos of him, some of which were him looking away from the camera and others of him leaning in to it. You thought each photo was breathtaking in your own opinion, but he looked at all of them with the eyes of a critic, deleting the ones that he didn’t deem worthy. “What are you planning on doing with these photos? anyway?” you asked curiously, hoping this whole thing won’t turn into something awkward.

“I’m going to send them to my makeup artist and manager to see what they think if this would be a good look for the product shoot,” Vil said, as he continued to look through the photos on his phone, sending the ones he liked off to his makeup artist and manager. When he was done, he finally looked up at you. “Thanks for helping me.” He said as he gave you a small smirk, You’re blushing now, creeping back up on you. “Anytime,” you say softly.

And then Rook busted in through the door the three of you just stared at each other awkwardly as you and Vil were sitting so close your legs were intertwined with each other. kiss marks, traveling down Vil‘s body that matched your snatched lipstick, perfectly a mischievous grin, forming on Rook’s lips as he watched you panic for an excuse.

Inspiration photos for this post, I found these photos on Google. Happy early Valentine’s Day. 😘🥰

[jazziejax]

𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧’

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC & Damson Idris x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which past lovers turned fling and a set best friends, that connection seems deeper than platonic, have to sit through a Prada fashion show and it’s after party all while keeping face in front of the waiting cameras, when all they can contemplate is how they’ll spend the rest of their time in Milan.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - flirting, suggestive conversation, roleplay(?), ex’s to flings, some descriptions, jealousy, best friends that lowkey want each other.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. I did this because I’m in a Damson Idris type of mindset and there’s literally nothing for him, he’s nonexistent here. Then I remembered when I saw Kelvin at the Prada show, I was like “Both my men in one room and they didn’t even interact.” So I made this. This could’ve went the throuple route, and I still might do that, but this was my first reaction.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,218+

The energy in the air was palpable and electric, a mix of flashing cameras as high-profile guests arrived, fans screams along with photographers demands filled the air, and the ever-present hum of fashion’s elite mingling before the show began.

Evette, dressed in mix of a Prada items, her clam look exuded confidence, but beneath the surface, she was still adjusting to this new chapter of her life. She exhaled slowly, grounding herself as she stepped onto the carpet.

The attention was still something she was adjusting to—Mufasa: The Lion King had catapulted her career into a different stratosphere and put her further into the public eye, and while she had always been comfortable in front of an audience the constant scrutiny was something she was still learning to navigate.

She posed with effortless grace, her outfit casual but cute nonetheless. She turned slightly, letting the cameras catch her best angles. Questions flew at her—about the film, future roles, even whispers of her personal life—but she handled them with the same cool demeanor that had gotten her this far.

Once inside, the energy shifted, less chaotic but still intense. She let out another sigh, releasing her anxious tension before looking down at the encouraging and hilarious messages from Nala.

I need more known so I can become a Brand Ambassador. This struggling actor shit is played out 🙄

She chuckled, shaking her head softly at the girl. She texted her a quick response before pocketing her phone and looking up. She began walking again as she glanced around, seeing the familiar faces of people she’d seen on telephone or tv screen, and others she hadn’t a clue of.

And then, right before she could make it to her seat, she saw him.

Kelvin Harrison Jr.

He looked good—annoyingly so. Dressed in a sleek Prada ensemble, the bright green color of his collar making his skin pop. He exuded the kind of ease that only came with confidence. Evette tensed, but only slightly. It’s not like it’s been long since she’d last seen him, and they were…friends now? If you could call what they had going in as friends. . They had long since moved past the initial post-breakup unease, settling into something familiar, easy. But what was it exactly? They weren’t just exes. They weren’t just co-stars. And after everything that had happened between them in the quiet, stolen moments off-camera… fling didn’t feel quite right either. She couldn’t help the feeling that wrapped around her beating heart at the sight of him. Admiring him from afar as he eased his way through the crowds of other celebrities.

Kelvin must have sensed her watching because he glanced up, locking eyes with her. A slow smile spread across his face—one of those knowing ones that made her stomach flip, even after all this time.

“Evette.” Kelvin greeted smoothly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. His grinned, his dimples poking through his cheeks.

“Kelvin.” She returned softly, smiling at him.

“You look good,” he said, eyes flickering over her outfit, appreciation evident.

She smirked. “You clean up nice yourself. I didn’t know you’d be here.” She said coyly. Kelvin’s brows twitched in confusion, slightly squinting at her. “What? Yes you did.” He said, letting out a small laugh with the twinkle still in his eye.

Evette’s smile dropped as she smacked her lips. “I was trying to do a bit.” She grumbled softly, her bright demeanor dropping. Kelvin just let out a small laugh at her as she stepped closer. He then quirked a brow, looking down at her. “A bit? You mean like role play?” He quipped, his tone lower than before with a smirk showing his pearly whites. Evette scoffed although she couldn’t help the smile that was making its way onto her face. She reached up to give his shoulder a small push. “Really?" She squinted at him. "In public? At a fashion show?" She hissed through clenched teeth, tilting her head close so that there was no chance that their conversation could be heard, even over the chaos of the venue.

Kelvin’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the playful banter. He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping even lower. “You know I like to keep things interesting, Evette.” He said in a sultry tone, his eyes giving her a quick once over, subconsciously licking his plump lips before his eyes made their way back to hers. "Plus, what's wrong with a little roleplay?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you Kelvin. Not here." She said, trying to sound firm, but her grin was undeniable. She stepped around him, her coconut scent wafting in her wake. He was quick to turn and follow behind her, catching sight of her pearly smirk as she threw him a quick look over her shoulder. He grinned as he followed after her, his eye trained on the back of her curly pixie cut.

She ended up stopping behind one of the many busy crowds that flooded the place, all of the celebrity guests trying to either find their seats or speak with their industry friends. Giving the perfect opportunity for Kelvin to come up behind her, almost pressing against her back. "I like your hair." He purred. Evette hummed, not turning to look at him. "Thank you." She replied. They stood close, too close, the charged air between them impossible to ignore. It had been like this for months—lingering stares, unsaid words, touches that lasted longer than they should. They had danced around whatever this was for too long. And now, they had to keep everything in check, with no Aaron Pierre or Nala around to distract from the weight of their history.

It was silent between them then, the pair moving with the slow-paced crowd that was dispersing throughout the large building.

"So back to this roleplay thing." He said, and Evette instantly let small laugh.

"Do you ever listen?"

"No." He grinned. "I'm just saying. I believe the most healthy of couples do it?" He quipped with a shrug.

And then he froze, his eyes widened as he registered what just slipped out of his mouth. His heart began to race quickly, his eyes jumping between the side of her face and elsewhere. Evette could feel him stiffen, behind her, and she did as well. She began to blink, wondering if she heard that word leave his lips. They both wanted nothing more than clarity, but to have a conversation on what you would call their current sexual but also a friendly relationship was not one to have at a brand event.

Unexpectedly, a grin broke out on Evette's face. It was small, but it drew Kelvin's attention as she turned her head his way. “Interesting. Is that what you’re calling it now?” She crossed her arms, standing her ground even as her pulse quickened under the heat of his gaze. Kelvin froze, his lids fluttering as he tried to come up with a response under her now sultry gaze. She quirked a brow at him, causing him to stumble over his words. "Is this a part of the whole roleplay thing?" She continued when she got no response from him. A smirk on her lips. Kelvin blinked, his eyes squinting briefly as he looked at her. He then shrugged, looking almost nonchalant as he leaned back slightly, glancing around at the chaotic scene. “Hey, it’s a fashion show. Everyone’s acting like they’re the main character. I’m just doing my part.” His eyes flicked back to hers, the playful glint not fading.

She raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking to one side. “And your part is roleplay?" She asked. "And the main character? You’re more like a supporting role at best, Kelvin.”

“Ouch, damn." He said, placing a hand over his heart in mock pain, though his grin never faltered. The crowd began to disperse, leading the pair over to the small podiums they were supposed to sit at. “First off, I have been the main character of plenty of projects." He sassed at her as their steps became quicker in the free space. "And second, if I’m a supporting character, then you’re the lead, huh?"

Evette let out a short, amused breath, turning her head to look at the sea of flashing cameras.

"Why wouldn't I be the main character? This is my roleplay scenario after all, isn't it?" She asked. And if Kelvin had a drink he would've spit it out. He couldn’t believe she was really playing along with his stupid scenario. He also didn’t know that his joking could actually lead to something she could be into. Kelvin blinked, momentarily stunned, before a slow, impressed grin spread across his face. He tilted his head, stepping a little closer as they neared their seats. "Oh, so now it’s your scenario? I thought you didn’t do roleplay, Evette?”

She shrugged, casually adjusting the straps of her outfit. "I don’t.” She said, then glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "But if I did, I’d obviously be the lead. And iI’s obviously so it with you. It’s just the natural order of things.” She stated, Kelvin’s gaze getting trapped looking at her bloody lips that excused the sultry tone she spoke in. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You’re unbelievable." Was all he could muster, barely a mumbled, as he began to become aroused at a public event, looking at the woman in front of him

"And you’re predictable.” She shot back, glancing down at the lower half of his body to see if he obvious attraction was alerting anyone else in the building into. When he couldn’t see anything, she looked back up at the man. "Always trying to keep up." She said as they came upon their seat, Evette looking for her name plate on one of them.

Kelvin scoffed, nit even caring to look for his seat as he followed after her. "Keep up? Please. If anything, I’m the plot twist. The unexpected character development. The fan-favorite side character that steals the show." He said, and he knew he had began rambling with just about anything to distract himself from the tent that would show up in his pants if they kept their little conversation from earlier up, and he did not want pictures of that encounter popping up on the internet.

Evette hummed, pretending to consider. "Mmm... More like comedic relief."

Kelvin clutched his chest in mock offense, his dimples deepening as he fought back a grin. "Wow. So I’m just here for laughs now?"

"Well.” She teased, dragging out the word as she found her seat, her name written in nice ink on a piece of cardstock. She grinned as she moved the paper and then took a seat. She crossing her legs and then looked up at his figure towering over her. “You are entertaining." She said with a shrug.

Kelvin narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching. "Okay.” He simply shrugged before taking the seat next to her, not even nothing to check the name, only moving the tag back a little so he didn’t smush it. As he took his seat, sitting so close, his slack covered legs brushed against bare ones, due to her denim skirt. Chills ran down her legs at the feelings, but slammed if lighted when he placed his hand on his leg, his fingers beginning to brush against her smooth skin. The touch was brief but intentional, and the heat of it lingered between them. Evette raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but clearly amused.

"That’s it?" She asked dryly. "That’s your big comeback? A caress of skin? Wow. Riveting. I’m so turned on."

Kelvin huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he sat back. "Nah, I’m just warming up. This is how it started off, two people meeting at a fashion show, but the obvious connection is there.” He said, his tone low, as well as his eyes as he glanced at her. “See, I know you. You act like you’re cool, calm, and collected, but you love when I get under your skin."

Evette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Kelvin, please." She said before gulping. She could really only pay attention to his last statement, the explanation of the beginning of their role play infighting a fire within her stomach she didn’t know she had. And she was bit about to get fired up and he wasn’t going to commit.

"Nah, nah, nah, let’s be real.” He said, tilting his head as he studied her. "You say you don’t do roleplay, but you’re way too good at this for a beginner, unless this is the acting talking. It’s almost like you’ve been waiting for someone to match your energy."

Evette didn’t answer right away, just smiled knowingly as she adjusted her posture, her confidence radiating. "You talk a lot for someone who just got demoted to comedic relief.” She finally said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Stranger.” She shrugged, counting to add onto the bit.

Kelvin exhaled a laugh, dragging a hand over his face before shaking his head. "You got jokes tonight, huh?"

"I always have jokes.” She countered easily. "You just have to get to know me. Plus you make it too easy.”

Kelvin studied her for a moment, his expression shifting just slightly—still playful, but with an underlying curiosity. "You know, Stranger," He mused, his voice softer now, “For all the talking we’re doing, we still haven’t actually said anything."

Evette met his gaze, the energy between them shifting just slightly. She tilted her head, considering him. "Maybe some things don’t need to be said."

Kelvin held her stare for a beat longer before smirking. "Or maybe," he murmured, leaning just a fraction closer, "You’re just scared of the conversation."

Evette’s lips twitched, but before she could respond, movement from across the room caught her attention.

Their banter paused as the cameras outside the glass walls flashed wildly. A commotion. A shift in energy.

And then she saw them.

Damson Idris and Noémie Adebayo.

Evette’s eyes flickered toward Kelvin’s, seeing that he had noticed them too. Damson and Noémie were locked in a tight embrace, their reunion playing out in full view of the crowd. The cameras caught everything—the warmth, the familiarity, the unspoken history between them.

Kelvin let out a low whistle. "Well, damn."

Evette hummed in agreement, watching as Damson and Noémie exchanged words within each others embrace, their body language easy and comfortable, but tinged with something deeper.

"You think there’s something there?" Kelvin asked, not looking at her but rather at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Evette considered before shrugging. "Could be.” She said. "Some things never really go away."

Kelvin glanced at her then, something unreadable in his expression. "Yeah," He murmured. "Some things don’t."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Evette smirked. "But if they start roleplaying in public, then we’ll really have something to talk about."

Kelvin barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "You really think you’re funny, huh?"

Evette just grinned. "No, Kelvin. I know I am."

Kelvin leaned back, watching her with a look that was equal parts amused and intrigued. "Alright then, miss main character. Let’s see how this story plays out."

“Don’t flatter me.” She aid, straightening her posture. “You’re looking a little too good tonight to be calling me the star.”

His eyes lingered on her a beat too long, his gaze unreadable, but it was enough to make Evette feel a flutter of something unfamiliar in her stomach. She looked away, trying to play it cool.

“Anyway, you should get to your seat.” She said, beginning to brush imaginary dust off his attire before nodding her head to the seat across from her, which held his name. “Enjoy the show, Mr.” She grinned.

“Well don’t be such a stranger, Miss. We’re both here for the same reason, right? To have a little fun.” He grinned back at her before wining from his seat next to her and moving to the one that held his name, directly across from her.

And over in the paparazzi frenzy, were the pair that would for sure be the stars of the night.

Noémie Adebayo and Damson Idris.

Two people who didn’t need an introduction, not to anyone in the industry.

The Prada show had already been a spectacle, but for Noémie Adebayo, the real event was happening off the runway. She was stunning in her designer denim dress ensemble, held herself with effortless poise. She posed for the cameras, her relaxed manner showing her ever confidence in her appearance. It had been about two years since the last season of Snowfall aired, since then, her and her busy costars have kind of been off the grid. She’s been working on her part in the Special Opps: Lioness, where she plays a young but ruthless CIA agent with a tragic backstory. And she was also starring in the 2025 movie OPUS with a her good friend Ayo Edebiri.

So even with the show coming to an end, that doesn’t mean the work stopped. And with being so busy, she and her best friend have been separated for a long time.

Ever since the first season of Snowfall, the viewers fell in love with her and Damson’s on-screen chemistry. The connection between Franklin and Diana felt real. She hadn’t seen Damson in what felt like ages—not properly, at least. Their last season of Snowfall had wrapped with a dramatic, gut-wrenching ending, their on-screen chemistry immortalized in the eyes of fans. And the connection between Damson and Noémie felt real as well. People loved to see them together, from the pictures and videos that came from set, to the moments they’d have in red carpets, to the paparazzi photos that surfaced of them spending time in each other’s home town. Their chemistry was alive and apparent, no matter how much they denied it. But after the show ended in 2023, their public interactions had dwindled. Life had moved forward. Damson had went open—very publicly—with his relationship with a gorgeous model, while Noémie poured herself into new projects, and the occasional friendly check-ins had dwindled to near silence.

Damson had been the first to notice her, his genuine smile growing as he closed the distance between them, coming up behind her. “Well, well. Noémie Adebayo.”

“Damson!” She replied once he turned around, letting his name roll off her tongue excitedly, before ringing him into a tight embrace. “Oh, it’s been so long!” She gushed, her head placed on his shoulder as he bent to her height a bit. So close that she was breathing in nothing but his woodsy scent. He raised to his full height, lifting her up in their tight hug. She squealed briefly before her feet hit the ground again, the cameras flashing quickly to catch the moment between the two stars. The shouts of fans and press became louder to get their attention, but they were entrapped within their win moment. Damson chuckled with his wrapped his arms around her, hands low on her waist and holding her just a beat longer than necessary. “Too long, my love.” He murmured near her ear before pulling back. His hands lingered on her waist as he looked down at her, taking in her outfit. “Damn, look at you.” He grinned.

Noémie smirked, adjusting the collar of his sleek Prada coat. “Looking sharp yourself. I see the Milan air has been treating this melanin well.” She said before quirking a brow at him. “Or all of those other vacations of yours.” She smirked, alluding to his various of paparazzi photos of him and his new girlfriend in various vacation spots, soaking in the sun.

“I could say the same.” He shot back, eyes sweeping over her denim dress ensemble. “Special Ops, huh? Trading the L.A. streets for CIA territory?” He asked. “Diana would be ashamed of you.” He reached out absentmindedly to adjust the collar of her blazer, his fingers brushing against her shoulder. She stilled, her breath catching for just a second, but neither of them acknowledged the moment. Instead, they kept talking, falling into the same effortless rhythm they always had.

She laughed. “I know! But I had to switch it up. Plus, they let me do some cool shit in this.”

“Selling drugs and killing people wasn’t cool shit?” He asked, his grin widening.

“No, it was, but now I’m doing, like, next level stuff. Like, in season two, I’m jumping out of helicopters.” She grinned. Damson’s brows raised at that, looking down at her with his hands still placed on her waist. “Oh, now that, I’d pay to see. ‘Cause aren’t you scared of heights?”

“Yes!”

Before she could explain more, the cameras swarmed them. Photographers called their names, flashing bulbs illuminating their faces as they stood there, side by side. The internet was already catching fire—two years since Snowfall ended, and here they were again, looking as comfortable, as close, as right as ever. Seeing them together again, the spark was undeniable. It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was muscle memory. Six seasons of playing lovers, knowing each other’s rhythms, finishing each other’s sentences—it all lingered in the way they looked at each other, the way her lips twitched into a smirk before he even said a word.

Noémie turned her head slightly, lowering her voice. “Are you ready?” She asked

Damson raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For the internet to explode.” She said before letting out a long sigh, knowing that this would be a topic in her phone for at least two weeks. He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “They never let up, huh?”

“You know they don’t.” She said before beginning to pose for photos with him next to her. Damson moved his hand on her waist, her hand on top of his as they posed for the plethora of cameras. “But you should be used to it though.” She said, trying not to disrupt her smile too much as she glanced up at him. “I seen that scene of you in Swarm, Mr.Idris.” She grinned, just as they felt that those were enough pictures. Damson laughed, shaking his head and he walked in front of her, holding his hand out for her to take. She took it, it even paying attention to the cameras and press that wanted to speak as he led her since if the venue. “Oh, you saw that?” He asked rhetorically.

“Everybody and they mama saw it, Damson!” She grinned as they continued to talk, just as what they said would happen, happened. Social media was already in a frenzy, dissecting every glance, every touch, every shift in body language.

Were they just friends? Was there something more? Had there always been something more?

Damson was still looking at her when someone from the event staff came over, politely letting them know it was time to head to their seats.

“Come on.” Noémie said, nudging him playfully. “Can’t have Prada waiting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied, walking beside her, still hand in hand.

As they weaved through the crowd, still hand in hand, the noise around them faded into the background. It had been two years, but being with Noémie felt like no time had passed at all. Damson glanced down at her, taking in her easy stride, the way she carried herself like she was born for this.

“So, CIA agent now, huh? What else have you been up to?” He asked, finally letting her hand go as they approached the private seating area, only for him to gently push her in don’t of him as the crowd became thick and he didn’t want to lose her or for her to get hurt.

Noémie hummed, adjusting her dress slightly. “Been working non-stop. Special Ops has me in the gym every day, training like I’m actually about to take on a mission. OPUS press hasn’t started, I don’t even think the trailers dropped yet. And then there’s Sinners with Michael.”

At the mention of Michael B. Jordan, Damson’s expression shifted. He didn’t react immediately, but she caught the slight tension in his jaw. His gaze was trained above her head, trying his dammdest to look anywhere but her eyes at the moment. “Right.” He began. “I saw those pictures.” His voice was casual—too casual.

She glanced up at him, a confused grin on her lips. “What pictures?”

Damson scoffed. “You know what pictures. You and him, all cozy, looking like a damn power couple in New York.”

Noémie blinked, thinking of why he was talking about before she laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, that was just press.” She said, a small smile on her face, not sensing the tensions Damson had in his frame. “We’re filming together, and we were just having dinner that day. The media grabbed a whole of it and took it with the wind.” She grinned, although her tone bridged in annoyance as she remembered the day those photos dropped. That lasted for months, but she was just glad that she last season had already aired or else that red carpet for the premiere would’ve been a little awkward for her. She glanced back up at him due to his silence, quirking a brow. “Don’t tell me you thought—” She trailed off, her smirk widening as she caught the way his lips pressed into a thin line. “You thought me and him were a thing?” She questioned.

He clicked his tongue, looking away. “Nah.”

She nudged his arm playfully. “Yes, you did! Damson, come on. You think I’d date Michael?”

“I mean, you were looking quite comfortable.” He said, finally glancing back down at her and connecting eyes. She blinked up at him, amusement clear on her face along with questioning. “Out all day, holding hands.” He listed.

“We were just holding hands.” She told him, giving a lousy gesture to behind them as she brought up only moments ago when they walked into the building, hand in hand.

“Yeah, but we’re best friends, I’ve known you for almost ten years. You’ve known him, what, three?” He scoffed out. Noémie looked up at him, her amusement still clear as they continued walking to their seats, the occasional camera clicking their way, caring them in action as they moved. She couldn’t help but smile at Damson’s obvious jealousy, because he was right. Such a great friendship for ten years and neither of them got a heads up on who the other one was dating. At least, not on her end. But that’s because she wasn’t dating Micheal! He probably felt that he was being relied on her life or something, she thought.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Because we’re friends, and we’re in a movie together. That’s it.” She paused, tilting her head at him. “But why do you care?” She asked, wanting to hear the words from his mouth instead of making up her own assumptions.

Damson opened his mouth, then shut it. He exhaled through his nose, running a hand over his jaw. “It’s just… weird, innit? You & Michael. He’s…” He trailed off, his voice quieter now. “Lori’s ex.”

Noémie’s teasing smile faltered slightly, not expecting that to be what he said. “And she’s your girlfriend. Is that what this is about?”

He sighed, rubbing his chin. “Me and Lori… we’re done.”

Noémie raised an eyebrow. “Done as in… on a break? Or done done?”

“Done done.” He admitted. “It’s been rocky for a while. We tried, but…” He shrugged. “It wasn’t working.”

She studied him for a moment, her teasing demeanor fading into something softer. “You okay?”

Damson shrugged again, though this time, his smile was a little more genuine. “Yeah. Just… moving on.” He shot her a look. “Which I thought you were doing with Michael.” He added, looking down at accusingly. “I was going crazy on all those trips when those photos drooped, thinking ‘How could by beating not tell me this?’ And you dating my, at the time, girlfriend’s ex boyfriend didn’t help either.”

Noémie rolled her eyes. “Michael is a friend. He’s not even my type, I think.” She shrugged.

Damson arched a brow. “Not your type? You think? Man’s a superstar, rich, got the muscles and all that.”

She smirked up at him at that. “Sounds like he’s your type.” She quipped, causing Damson to smack his lips as he nudged her forward a little. “So annoying.” He grumbled. “And you’re nosey.” She shot back playfully. “You were on vacation with you boo worried about what I had going on. You’re no better than those people on The Shaderoom.” She smirked.

Before he could retort, a staff member gently tapped his shoulder, gaining both of their attention. The polite man smiled at them before stating that he would lead them to their seat. He then signaling for them to take their seats when they arrived and Damson barely had time to process their conversation before he was led toward his assigned spot.

“See you after,” Noémie said, flashing him a knowing smile before slipping into her own seat as the man led Damson to the one across from her.

As the lights dimmed slightly and guests settled in, the two men exchanged glances, acknowledging each other with a polite nod. They weren’t close, but they were familiar enough—two industry men who had crossed paths before.

Damson settled in next to Kelvin Harrison Jr., who was already watching him with a smirk.

Kelvin leaned in slightly. “You good, bro?”

Damson exhaled, shaking his head. “Man… I don’t even know.”

Kelvin chuckled, nodding toward Noémie across the table. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Noémie found herself next to Evette, who had just finished her own set of conversations and photo ops from the press that came by to take photos of her in her seat. Across from them, directly in their line of sight, were Kelvin and Damson.

Evette barely glanced at Kelvin before shifting her attention to Noémie. “How was the reunion?” She asked, nodding her head over to the commotion they unintentionally caused at the entrance.

Noémie exhaled through a laugh. “Exactly what you’d expect.”

Evette hummed, stealing a glance at the two men across from them. “Well, you have his attention.”

Kelvin and Damson sat back, their body language relaxed but their eyes locked onto the women in front of them. Each man subtly watched the woman across from him—the way Kelvin’s gaze lingered on Evette’s animated expressions as she spoke, the way Damson’s eyes traced Noémie’s movements as she laughed.

Kelvin finally spoke, low enough for only Damson to hear. “So… that’s Noémie.”

Damson smirked, not taking his eyes off her. “That’s Noémie.”

Kelvin nodded, a knowing look passing between them. “Yeah. I get it.”

Damson finally turned to him, chuckling. “And you? You’re looking at Evette like she owes you something.”

Kelvin’s jaw tightened slightly before he masked it with a grin. “Maybe she does.”

Damson raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, his attention drifted back to Noémie, who had caught him staring and was now arching a playful eyebrow in return.

The show hadn’t even started, and yet, all eyes were already on them.

-evette

liked by kelvharrjr, noemieadebayo, nanalicampbell, and 34,000 others

evette first fashion show, kinda nervous :/…

view comments

nanalicampbell wow! you’re, like, famous now!

⤷ evette don’t be weird Nala

⤷ nanalicampbell what?…

kelvharrjr who’s that dapper gentleman loafer next to you? I would like for you to tell him he’s dressed rather nice.

⤷ evette they will delete my account for the words I’m about to say to you.

⤷ kelvharrjr 🫢

noemieadebayo it was so nice talking to you! we have ti catch up some time again.

⤷ evette yes, it was so nice speaking to you as well! you’re messy and I love that, we gotta link again!

randomuser97 oh so they were at the Prada show other?…which could mean nothing.

⤷ otheruser1133 mind you, they’re both brand ambassadors for Prada?

randomeuserouthere idk if I wanna be her or him…

randomuser I could be their third 🫡

anotheruser when did she cut her hair? why is no in freaking out about this?

⤷ otheruser1133 baby, her hair been cut…

- noemieadebayo

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evette the real runway diva

⤷ noemieadebayo 🤫

damsonidris my mini me! 😘

⤷ noemieadebayo damsie!

⤷ Prada the prada family! ❤️

Prada we love you!!💕

noemieadebayo luv u Prada <3

damsonidrisfanpage is that who I think it is?….i know that ain’t my man

⤷ otheruser1133 and he’s sending kissy faces in the chat 😔 that’s her man I fear

otheruser1133 they need to date already. I’ve been here for ten years!

randomuser10 mhmm, see that’s what I’m taking about. A black king right there!

If you wanted to be added to this tag list or any others, let a sista know! Let me know if you like it, I gotta write a dissertation for university now. If this gets enough likes, I’ll do some more parts to this but be warned, after they leave that fashion show thing might get a little freaky…

@theclownmimi @vile-harlot @notapradagurl7 @nubiagurllll @saltburnsworld @imsohappyilovekbop @jazzycool30 @kaylaahisthebestest- @mccteez @officialthrad @irishmanwhore

[matteglaze]

waitwaitwait relating to the can shigaraki read ask i feel like he would need glasses? but ofc no glasses for the might leader of the LOV (+ dragging this man to the doctor is harder than one may think...) so his vision is just getting worse and so y/n just reads for him. idk i get soft when i think abt reading/cooking/doing chores that kurogiri would do for tomura.

Shigaraki makes you read questionable things

I think because of the lack of sleep Shigaraki gets, his eye sight becomes more and more strained. This is probably exacerbated because of his late night gaming sessions.

It's not a big deal, he reasons. Many people don't get enough sleep, it's not just him.

I actually think Shigaraki could get a doctor to prescribe him glasses or eye contacts with AFO's help (the man's pretty influential let's be real), but I think the reason Shigaraki doesn't is because he won't say anything about it.

He's taken loss, after loss, after loss. Sensei doesn't need to know he's struggling with his eye sight,

Sensei doesn't need to view him as something weak.

It's embarrassing, but Shigaraki is just quiet about it. However, I don't think his eye sight is necessarily bad, I feel like he's still able to read, just not if the text is really small, plus it's better if you do it for him.

"If you tell anyone about this, I swear I'll kill you.." Shigaraki grumbles, scratching at his neck as he glares your way.

You look down at him, pumping up your fist with a small grin "sure thing, boss!"

And that's how you find yourself standing next to his gaming chair, reading the dialogue from a busty girl on Shigaraki's screen. One look at her, and you can tell she's supposed to be some sort of Yakuza love interest. (actually, you know this for a fact, because her nickname is literally Yakuza-chan.)

You clear your throat and read, "Uh... Well, boss, I'm sure you need my protection— so don't worry about a thing, boss!"

This love interest sure does use the word 'boss' a lot, huh?

Shigaraki definitely does this on purpose, choosing characters that either look like you or have your mannerisms. Then he gets you to read their sickenly sweet dialogue, and it's almost like he's getting the real thing.

A cheat code that he managed to find all by himself.

"Now you guys just moved to a beach date." You start to describe the images on screen, but you're cut off once Shigaraki pinches your wrist with his pointer finger and thumb. You let out a pained grumbled, but Shigaraki just clicks his tongue at your antics.

"I can see that, idiot, I'm not blind"

"Okay...whatever you say...wait, hold on, choose this option" you lean over his body and press your finger against the screen, "this will definitely score you some love points"

Shigaraki turns your way, faces inches apart, "huh, you're pretty good at this.."

You turn your attention from the screen to him, a smug look overtaking your features.

"What can I say? The ladies love me"

"I take back what I said." Shigaraki grumbles, turning his head to the side and leaning back into his gaming chair, trying to put a distance between you two; blush on his pale face strikingly prominent. He can only hope that you don't notice.

And you don't— because after awhile you've also found yourself invested in this game, because if you're really going to stand around and read for him you may as well have fun doing it.

"Ok, now choose this option"

Shigaraki hovers his cursor over the option you suggested, 'compliment her swimsuit', but instead he chooses the other one, 'what do you think about my swimsuit'

What do you think about my swimsuit, Yakuza-chan?

"Eugh Boss.. I told you to pick the other one... No girl wants to compliment a guys lame shorts." You grumble, slightly grabbing on Shigaraki's shoulder and shaking him.

"All of our progress! Wasted!"

Even though you complain, you end up reading Yakuza-chan's (stupid name, by the way) dialogue, anyway.

"Ah, boss, I think it's really cute— because you're realize cute, wait I messed that part up, because you're really cute. My little boss, who's a... A what"

You blanch at the next words, 'who's my good little boy', and feel yourself scrunch your nose up. It took such an adrupt turn, you reread it again to yourself.

Well, you weren't aware of the fact that it was this type of game, but that's on you for assuming Shigaraki would waste any storage space downloading a wholesome otome game.

".. What, read it." Shigaraki grumbles.

You awkwardly clear your throat, averting your gaze from the screen and instead looking at the floor.

"Well, you said you aren't blind...can't you see this part.. It's not important to the story or anything"

"It's blurry"

You have a feeling he isn't being too honest, and you think to yourself, perhaps you indulge Shigaraki too much.

i know you meant reading as in like, cute wholesome reading and theyre both sitting together and Shigaraki eventually dozens off or something, but i just can't resist otome nerd tomura

[onechicagolife]

ABSENTIA | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner went missing undercover. While he never wanted to give up hope, the CPD assumed her dead and he was resigned to accept it. Now, two years later, Jay gets a sudden phone call with news that changes his life forever. Avery Clarke is alive. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Chapter 15

Jay rounds the corner to his apartment, exhaustion weighing down his movements as he drags a hand down his face. The last few nights have blurred together—hours spent in his truck with Avery, watching and waiting. They haven’t seen Nikolai again since that first night, which he’s not sure is a good or bad thing. Bad for their investigation, yes. But he couldn’t deny Avery’s reaction when she saw him for the first time. The way she completely froze, her shoulders tensing and her breaths quickening.

The cruelest part was that when Jay asked about it, she refused to tell him anything. And that every time he looks at her, he still feels everything. Being with her feels overwhelmingly familiar, too much like how it used to be. Because she sits back in the seat with her feet thrown up, she steals his coffee without thinking. She pushes his buttons, challenges him in the best and worst ways.

He knows he shouldn’t be spending so much time with her. He tells himself that he has to, even though he knows it’s not fair to Hailey. Knows it’s wrong that every night, as he sits in the freezing car with Avery, he doesn’t want to leave. That despite the anger, the confusion, the betrayal—he feels more like himself than he has in a long time.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Jay lifts his head and his stomach drops. Hailey is leaning against the wall outside his door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her ponytail sways slightly as she straightens at the sight of him, and the look on her face—anger barely concealing hurt—makes his breath hitch. Dinner.

He exhales sharply, quickening his steps as guilt settles heavy in his chest, “Shit, Hailey, I’m sorry.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “I called you,” Hailey says flatly.

His fingers tighten around his keys, “My phone died.” Lie. He turned it off.

She scoffs, shaking her head as she pushes off the wall. He sees the way her eyes glisten under the dim hallway light, the way her jaw tenses as she turns to leave. Panic flares in his chest. “Wait.” He reaches out, catching her wrist gently, just enough to stop her, “Just… come inside. Please.”

Hailey hesitates. For a second, he thinks she’s going to walk away. Maybe she should. Maybe he should let her.

Reluctantly, her feet stay rooted in place as he unlocks the door and opens it. He stands in the doorway, waiting for her with hopeful eyes. After a few moments, and against her better judgement, she steps inside.

Jay closes the door behind them, lingering for a second before he turns to face her. He barely gets his jacket off before she whirls on him.

“Where have you been?”

His shoulders sag. He should have known she’d cut right to it. “I’m sorry I forgot about dinner,” he says weakly, knowing full well that it isn’t good enough.

“That’s not an answer,” her voice rises slightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You’ve been blowing me off all week. You disappear after work, you don’t answer my calls or texts. You come in every morning looking like you haven’t slept. What the hell is going on with you?”

Jay rubs a hand over his face, already exhausted by this conversation. “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” she cuts him off harshly. “And don’t say you’ve been with Voight.” Hailey takes a deep breath, her anger cracking just slightly under something more vulnerable. Her voice is quieter as she forces out the next words, “Just tell me if you were with Avery.”

He hesitates. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to make her eyes harden. “It’s not what you think,” Jay says quickly, trying to reassure her that he would never.

She crosses her arms tighter, her nails digging into her skin. She didn’t think he was cheating, not really. She knows him well enough to know that. “Then what is it?”

His jaw clenches. He doesn’t know what to say. He knows she deserves to hear the truth, but he can’t bring himself to say it. “Hailey,” he swallows, “I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit,” she snaps, her voice rising again. “You don’t get to pull the ‘I can’t talk about it’ card with me. I’m your partner, Jay. I’m your girlfriend. You’re shutting me out, and I deserve to know why.”

His mind races, eyes desperately searching her face for some—any—hint of understanding. “I can’t tell you,” Jay settles on with a helpless half-shrug. “You just have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Hailey laughs—a bitter, broken sound—and narrows her eyes. “Do you even hear yourself?” When he doesn’t say anything, it only takes a few moments before realization washes over her. She lets out a disbelieving breath, “You’ve been helping her investigate Volkov.”

The way Jay tightens his jaw and clenches his hands into fists at his sides is confirmation enough.

“Jesus, Jay,” she shakes her head with a scoff. Hailey starts pacing, running both hands over her hair. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re putting your career—your life—on the line.”

“I’m not putting my life on the line,” he says defensively.

“You’re lying to me,” she yells at him. “You’re lying to Voight. You’re impeding a federal investigation. All for her.”

Jay flinches at her words, guilt and anger swirling in his chest. “It’s not that simple. She’s my—” he cuts himself off, the words dying in his throat. He swallows hard as the air between them thickens. They both know what he was about to say. She’s my partner.

Hailey stares at him, something breaking in her expression. She squares her shoulders, trying to hold herself together even as her voice wavers. “You know, I’ve tried to be supportive. I’ve tried to be understanding. But I’m not going to sit here while you lie to my face. I’m not going to sit here and pretend.”

He blinks, knowing that this conversation is going somewhere he doesn’t want, but he can’t stop it. “Pretend?”

She exhales shakily, bringing up a hand to quickly swipe away the tears she is so stubbornly trying to keep at bay. “You were shot,” her voice trembles slightly, but she forces it to steady. “You were laying there, and I was holding your hand. You said her name.” She closes her eyes as the memories wash over her. “I tried to convince myself that I heard it wrong. But I didn’t. And I know that you know I heard it. And you still haven’t explained why.”

The air seems to leave the room, and for a moment, Jay can’t bring himself to look at her. His mind flashes back to that moment. His throat tightens as he finally meets her gaze. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about her,” he admits even as it kills him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

The words hang heavy between them, and Hailey’s breath hitches. She blinks rapidly, trying to process what he just said. “So, what? You’re still in love with her?”

Jay inhales sharply at the question. He wants to tell her no. He wants to tell her he loves her, that she’s the one he wants. But he can’t. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice breaking. “But I know she needs me right now and I can’t…” I can’t leave her. I can’t say no to her. I can’t let her be alone again. “I have to help her.”

Hailey nods slowly, like she expected that answer but hoped she was wrong. “I love you, Jay,” she whispers, her face crumbling as fresh tears well in her eyes. “And I thought—” she stops herself, shaking her head as a tear slips down her cheek. She doesn’t bother wiping it away.

His chest tightens, heartbeat pounding loudly in his head, “Hailey, I care about y—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, stepping back. “You can’t have both.”

The words cut deep. Jay opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her. But he can’t lie anymore. To himself, maybe. But not to her.

Her lips tighten into a thin line as she tilts her head, nodding slowly. “I’m done.”

He doesn’t stop her as she turns and walks toward the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet apartment. He can’t bring himself to, no matter how much he wishes he could. When the door clicks shut behind her, the sound feels final as it echoes throughout the apartment.

Jay sinks onto the couch, elbows braced on his knees as his head falling into his hands. He knows Hailey had every right to walk away. He can’t even blame her. And he’s left wondering how the hell he got here.

After hesitating for just a moment, Jay walked towards Voight’s office. He stopped in the open doorway, eyes bouncing between his sergeant and the other man in the room. His hands clenched so tightly where they hung at his sides that his knuckles ached. He had been called in without much explanation—just a simple order to come in from Voight. The urgency in his voice made his stomach churn with unease. And now, seeing Chief Lugo standing beside the desk Voight sat behind made his pulse quicken unnaturally.

“Jay,” Voight started gruffly. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dark, something resigned. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good.” His bosses exchanged a wary glance. Jay narrowed his eyes, “What’s going on?”

Voight didn’t speak at first, just cast another look towards the chief before sighing heavily. He opened a manila folder in front of him and pushed it forward on the desk.

Jay took a step and a half forward. Inside was a single, grainy photograph that made his stomach twist violently. It was a surveillance shot—a woman being dragged into a warehouse by two armed men. The image was blurry, the lighting terrible, but the height, the build, the hair—it was all too familiar. “Where did this come from?” he demanded.

Lugo spoke this time, his voice even, measured. “The FBI received this from one of their sources inside the Volkov organization. The timestamp places it three months ago.”

His breath stilled. Three months ago. Avery had already been missing for six. That meant she wasn’t killed on the spot like everyone else feared—she was taken alive. She was out there. Jay forced himself to focus, pulling himself away from the memories of that day. That day when he was too late. “So, what the hell are we doing sitting here? We finally have a lead, we go after it—”

Lugo held up a hand, stopping him cold. “The intel didn’t stop there.”

His heart pounded as Lugo flipped to the next page in the folder.

Unidentified female remains recovered from a Volkov warehouse overseas. Burned beyond recognition. No DNA match found.

Jay shook his head, immediately rejecting it. “No. No, that’s not proof. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Jay—” Voight started, his voice low.

“No.” He pushed the folder roughly across the desk, breathing hard as his chest tightened. “We’ve been through this before, and every single time, it’s led nowhere. You don’t have a body, you don’t have DNA, you don’t have—”

“The FBI is taking over the investigation into Volkov from Major Crimes. The brass agrees that the evidence is conclusive,” Lugo interrupted, his voice final. “Detective Clarke was likely killed while undercover. The case is being closed.”

The word rang in his ear, and his entire world stopped spinning. Closed. No. No.

He turned to Voight, his eyes pleading. “We don’t… we can’t just stop,” his voice cracked, barely managing to get the words out.

Voight held his gaze for a long moment, and that was when Jay knew. The fight had already been lost. The lines on Voight’s face looked deeper, heavier, and for the first time since Avery disappeared, there was defeat in his eyes. Even after Justin, he still hung onto the hope that his other child was still alive. But that hope was gone.

“It’s over,” Voight said quietly.

No. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his hands trembling at his sides. Jay shook his head, refusing to accept it. “No. No, you don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to just—just declare her dead without proof.” His voice broke, rage bleeding through the cracks.

“Detective—” Lugo started.

“No, fuck that!” Jay slammed his hands onto the desk, the sound echoing through the office. His entire body was shaking. “You don’t get to make this call! She’s out there, she’s waiting for us to find her, and we’re just—we’re just giving up?” His voice bordered on hysteria as he looked towards Voight in disbelief, “You’re just gonna let this happen? After everything—after Justin? You’re just going to let them give up on her?”

Voight’s breath hitched in his throat as he blinked, barely managing to hold himself together. He never allowed himself to break before, and he won’t do it now. He can’t. Chief Lugo’s jaw tightened as he cut in, “This isn’t giving up, Halstead. This is the reality.”

Jay let out a sharp, bitter laugh, taking a half-step back in a desperate need to distance himself before he lost control. Reality. The word felt like poison in his mouth. Nothing about this felt real. “You don’t know her,” he spat. “You don’t know Avery. She’s a fighter. She wouldn’t just let them—” he stopped himself, unable to say the words. Wouldn’t just let them kill her.

Chief Lugo sighed, straightening, “I understand the nature of your relationship to her. I know this is difficult to hear, but the department is making it official. Detective Clarke is being ruled as killed in the line of duty.”

His breath hitched and he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. This was it. This was the end. The fight left him all at once. His shoulders sagged, his knees suddenly weak, and for a moment, he thought he might actually collapse. He turned to Voight, his last hope. His voice was wrecked, desperate, “Hank.”

Voight’s face was etched with something almost like guilt. When he finally spoke, it was low and final. “It’s time to let her go.”

Something inside Jay broke. A sound tore from his throat—a ragged, guttural noise of sheer devastation—and he turned sharply, storming out of the office. He didn’t see where he was going. Didn’t feel the burn in his throat, the pressure behind his eyes, the way his chest was imploding in on itself.

All he knew was that he had to get out. Had to breathe. Had to escape the words still ringing in his head, threatening to tear down his entire world.

How the hell is he supposed to let her go? The woman he loved. The only woman he ever loved. She was gone. She couldn’t be gone. Jay picked up speed before bursting through one of the stalls just in time to hunch over the toilet, knees hitting the tile with a painful, sickening crack. His body convulsed as he gripped the porcelain with white-knuckled hands, waves of nausea wracking through him. His stomach clenched painfully, but there was nothing left to bring up. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last. His head was spinning, his vision blurring, the fluorescent lights overhead too bright, too harsh.

He felt like he was suffocating. Drowning.

The stall walls felt like they were closing in, pressing down on him and squeezing the air from his lungs. His entire body trembled as he sat back on his heels, his arms bracing against the sides of the stall. The cold tile bit into his knees, grounding him in a reality he desperately wanted to reject.

Avery was dead.

Voight believed it.

Chief Lugo signed off on it.

Major Crimes, the FBI—they all believed it.

The weight of it crashed down on him again, harder, heavier. A low, guttural sound ripped from his chest, something between a sob and a scream, raw and uncontained.

Six months of searching. Of fighting. Of holding onto hope—thin, fragile, fleeting hope—only for it to be ripped away in an instant.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He couldn’t breathe. Every inhale was a battle, every exhale a painful reminder that he was still here—and she wasn’t.

He could still hear her voice, so clear that it was as if she was sitting right beside him.

Well, it really is your lucky day, Halstead. Avery Clarke. Your new partner.

His throat closed up, another sob tearing through him. A thousand moments, a thousand memories flooded his mind, each one sharper, more painful than the last. He saw her everywhere. Heard her everywhere.

But she was gone.

A sudden burst of anger surged through him, cutting through the grief like a blade. His hands shook as he pushed himself up from the floor, his vision darkening at the edges from the force of his rage.

His fist flew before he could stop it. The bathroom mirror shattered on impact. Glass shards scattered across the counter, some embedding in his knuckles, but he barely felt the sting. His reflection was fractured, fragmented—just like him. He stared at it, his chest heaving, his pulse hammering in his ears as the blood dripped down his fingers, warm and sticky.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real.

The sky is still gray, the Chicago winter settling in thick and heavy as Jay pulls into the district parking lot. His truck rumbles to a stop, the engine ticking in protest as he cuts the ignition. He stays there for a moment, gripping the wheel with both hands, staring blankly at the brick wall in front of him.

He’s running on fumes. The sleepless nights, the weight of Hailey walking out, the relentless gnawing in his chest whenever he thinks about Avery—it’s all catching up to him. His body is sore, barely recovered, and his mind is wrecked. He doesn’t even want to think about what he is going to face when he walks in that building. And yet, somehow, the idea of stopping isn’t even an option.

Not when she still needs him.

With a heavy sigh, he grabs his gym bag from the passenger seat, shoving open the door and stepping into the biting cold. His breath clouds in front of him, but the crisp air does nothing to clear his head. He’s barely made it a few steps when he hears the familiar rumble of another engine pulling in. Jay glances up just as Voight’s black SUV rolls into a nearby spot. The older man climbs out, pulling his coat tighter against the wind, his sharp gaze landing on Jay instantly.

They both hesitate for a beat. A silent acknowledgment.

Jay sighs, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He knows what’s coming.

“You look like hell,” Voight remarks, shutting his door with a solid thud.

He huffs out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… it’s been a rough few weeks.”

Voight studies him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, instead of making his way to the door, he jerks his chin toward the entrance on the other side of the lot. “Walk with me.”

He exhales through his nose, knowing there’s no getting out of this. Jay falls into step beside the older man, their boots crunching lightly against the frost-dusted pavement. The silence stretches, bordering on uncomfortable as the cold air wraps around them.

Jay knows Voight isn’t the kind of guy to push, but when he speaks, his voice is steady, carrying that same unshakable authority he always has. “She told me.”

He doesn’t react right away, treading carefully. He keeps his gaze forward, hands still shoved into his pockets, “About what?”

“About you helping her,” Voight nods slightly. “About the deposit box.”

His jaw tightens. He shouldn’t be surprised but knowing what that secret cost him, that he lied to Hailey, makes his stomach twist in anger. “She wasn’t supposed to—”

“Relax,” Voight cuts him off, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not going to stop you.”

Jay frowns, glancing over at him. “You’re not?”

Voight gives a small shrug, “If I wanted to stop you, I would’ve done it already.”

He scoffs, shaking his head, “Then what? You’re just gonna let me keep breaking all the rules for her?” Maybe he wants Voight to stop them. To force him to walk away. Because he knows he’ll never do it on his own.

Voight stops walking, turning to face him fully and stopping him with a hand on his chest. “I’m here to make sure you don’t lose yourself in this.” His gaze is steady, unwavering. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”

Jay swallows hard, looking away. He exhales sharply, his breaths visible in the cold air. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore, Voight.”

Voight nods, like he’s been expecting that, “I know.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “I mean, jesus. I thought she was dead. And it took a while, but I made peace with that. And now she’s back, and it’s like—” he stops himself, shaking his head as frustration boils over. “Like I don’t even know her anymore.”

 “She’s been through hell, Jay,” the older man says after a beat of silence, “You know that.”

“What about what I’ve been through? What she put me through?” Jay lets out a sharp exhale, staring at the pavement, trying to keep his emotions under control because it is too damn early for this. “I’m trying to be there for her,” he mutters. “But it’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But nothing worth a damn ever is.”

Jay stares at him, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “She lied to me.”

“I know.”

“She let me believe she was gone. She didn’t give me a choice. Didn’t give us a choice.”

“I know,” Voight repeats, his voice steady.

Jay shakes his head, “And now she’s asking me to risk everything to help her with this.”

But Voight doesn’t flinch, “She’s not asking you to do anything she wouldn’t do for you.”

“That’s not the point,” he snaps, his frustration finally breaking through. Even though he knows it’s true, knows they’ve already been here before. Derek Keyes, Lonnie Rodiger, Terry, Ellie… She backed his play without question, without a second thought, whenever he needed it. She jumped in feet first, and he didn’t even have to ask. He takes a step back, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t forgive her for what she did, Voight.”

Voight studies him carefully, his next words measured. “You’re angry. And you should be. But that anger isn’t just about what she did.” He pauses, letting it sink in, “It’s about how much you still care about her in spite of it.”

The heavy truth in the statement is too much and Jay has to look away, clenching his jaw.

“I know what you went through when we lost her,” Voight takes a step towards him. “I saw what it did to you. And I know you’re still carrying that with you. If anyone understands, you know I do.” A haunted look flickers in his eyes, memories of Justin and Alvin threatening to swallow him whole.

Jay swallows hard—two years of emptiness, of staring at an empty grave that shouldn’t exist, of drinking himself into numbness just to get through the night. “She’s not the same,” he murmurs. His voice is quieter now, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “She’s… harder. Colder. She refuses to let me in. And I don’t know how to reach her.”

Voight exhales, nodding slowly. “I know she’s different. And so are you.” He holds his gaze, “But if anyone can get through to her, it’s you.”

Jay lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head, “Why?” Why does it have to be me?

Voight’s voice is unwavering, “Because she trusts you. Because you know her better than anyone.”

Jay stiffens. His throat tightens, his stomach twisting in protest. He wants to argue, wants to deny it. The words are on the tip of his tongue. Not anymore… But they don’t come out. Because maybe, just maybe, Voight isn’t wrong.

He looks down, his hands curling into fists in his pockets, “I don’t know if I can do this, Hank.”

“You can.” His voice is gentler, in that gruff, Voight way as he claps a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring, “And you will. Because she needs you. And whether you want to admit it or not… you need her too.”

He stands there, frozen, as the words sink in. Jay doesn’t know where he and Avery stand. Doesn’t know if there’s a way forward. But as he watches Voight walk inside the garage, his words echo in his head.

Because she needs you. And you need her too.

Jay exhales, his breath shaky. Then, finally, he heads inside.

The locker room is quiet, a stark contrast to the usual chaos of the district. Jay leans against the metal bench, head tilted back against the cool lockers as he lets out a slow, controlled breath. He should be at his desk. He should be doing something productive, catching up on paperwork. Instead, he’s here, hiding.

Avoiding.

It’s been like this for days. Ever since Hailey left his apartment, ever since their relationship officially crashed and burned. Every second between them is tense and awkward, leaving him wishing he was anywhere else. And when they aren’t forced to be interacting for work, he can feel her gaze watching him. Studying his every move, every interaction. And Avery? That’s been worse.

She hasn’t done anything wrong. No probing questions, no comments, no knowing looks. Nothing. She’s just there, in his space, existing like things are supposed to be normal when nothing is. And even though it shouldn’t, even though he should be more affected by the dooming of his relationship, that kills him more than anything.

Because of that, he’s been keeping his distance at work, making sure their conversations stay short. Professional. But it doesn’t matter. He can feel his partner’s eyes on him whenever Avery’s near, can see the tension ripple through her every time he and Avery so much as breathe in the same direction.

And now? The guilt is suffocating.

So he’s here, in the goddamn locker room, hiding like a coward.

The door creaks open, and he immediately straightens. He’s not sure who he expects, fearing it’ll be Hailey with another conversation he’s not ready for, fearing she’ll tell him that their partnership is over too. But instead, Adam strolls in, his expression casual but his movements deliberate.

“Got a minute?” Adam asks lightly, but there’s an edge behind it.

Jay narrows his eyes, already bracing himself for whatever’s coming. “Yeah.”

Adam doesn’t sit. He stands across from him, arms crossed, lips pressing into a thin line before cutting straight to it. “What’s going on with you and Avery?”

Shaking his head with an eye roll and a scoff, he stands and moves to root around inside his locker. “What are you talking about, man?”

“You drove her to work this morning,” the younger man says with an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

“She had a migraine last night and didn’t want to drive, so I gave her a ride home,” he lies without skipping a beat. The reality is that they left straight from work to spend the night in his truck, watching the warehouse for any sign of Nikolai Volkov, both of them pretending the distance between them wasn’t getting growing with every second of silence.

Adam eyes him, his protective side outweighing anything else. He can’t stand to see his best friend get hurt when she is just barely finding her footing. But he can see how much it’s killing her. He lets out a long sigh, “Look, I get it. I know it must’ve hurt when she wanted me to be her partner and asked for some space. I know you want to be friends. But if this is going to mess with her head—”

“Mess with her head?” Jay cuts him off, his voice rising slightly as he turns to face him. “I don’t need a lecture from you of all people.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, annoyed at whatever implication lingers in the air.

Jay tilts his head, gritting his teeth painfully. He wonders just how much he can push this, how far he can stretch the lie in order to get the truth. “She told me what happened between you two,” he says carefully, baiting.

Stiffening, his eyes flicker with surprise for a brief moment before he schools his expression. She said she wasn’t going to, but maybe she changed her mind once he decided to tell Kim, wanting a clean slate as they try to make their relationship work. Adam narrows his eyes, “She told you?”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenches, knowing by the reaction that he was right to suspect something happened between them. “So don’t sit here and act like you’re just her protective big brother.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Adam shakes his head defensively, his frustration mounting.

Jay crosses his arms tightly over his chest, “Then what was it like?”

“It was,” he hesitates, “complicated.”

He throws his head back, barking out a humorless laugh. “Complicated? Kim’s having your kid, and the best you can do is complicated?”

Temper flaring, Adam grits out, “It was one time. It was right after she came back, we were drinking—”

“That makes it better?” he shoots back with a step forward.

“Look,” his patience snaps, voice rising, “she needed someone. Someone who actually gave a damn about her when she was falling apart. Where the hell were you?”

The words nearly knock him off his feet, and Jay stops breathing for a moment. His hands curl into fists, because he can’t think about that. He can barely stomach the guilt he is already feeling. So instead, he focuses on the pure anger that threatens to overtake him at the image that flashes behind his eyes. “So, you—what? Decided to help her with your dick?”

Adam’s face darkens, his fists twitching at his sides. “Oh, fuck off, Halstead. You weren’t there. You didn’t see how broken she was seeing that you moved on.” His voice lowers, but the intensity remains. “So yeah, I was there for her. Not for some hookup. Not for whatever bullshit you think this is. But because I actually care about her. And maybe if you weren’t lying to yourself, wrapped up in your own guilt, you’d see that too.”

The jealousy, the frustration, the anger—it all collides, white-hot and uncontrollable as the words are like a match to gasoline. Jay doesn’t think. His fist collides with Adam’s jaw before he even realizes it. The impact reverberates through his arm, fingers flexing at the dull ache already forming.

Adam stumbles back, his hand flying to his face. His eyes blaze with fury as he whirls back around. “Bro, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts, shoving the other man’s chest roughly.

“Hey!” Avery’s voice slices through the air, her footsteps echoing as she storms into the room. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Both men freeze, their heavy breathing filling the silence as Avery moves between them without hesitation, her eyes darting between their tense, furious faces. Her gaze locks on Jay, narrowing as she takes in the flush on his face and the way his fist is still clenched. “Did you punch him?” she demands sharply.

Jay doesn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he finally breaks away from Adam’s glare. But he can’t look at her, can’t see what he knows is in her waiting eyes.

Already knowing the answer, Avery scoffs before rounding on her partner. “And you—what did you say to him?”

Adam rubs his jaw, moving it back and forth gently. “Nothing he didn’t deserve.”

She groans in frustration, running a hand through her hair, fingers getting caught in the tangles. “Unbelievable. You two are supposed to be professionals, friends, and you’re in here fighting like children. Over what? Me?”

When Adam opens his mouth, she places a strong hand against his chest with a light shove that forces him a half-step back, and Jay tries to hide the fact that he notices. “I don’t need you to defend my honor,” she chastises, only turning away when he lowers his head sheepishly. Avery narrows her eyes at Jay, “What is your problem?”

Jay’s eyes finally snap to hers, his frustration and jealousy lingering below the surface. He grits his teeth, his pulse still pounding with the low hum of adrenaline. He knows this isn’t about Adam. Not really. It’s about… everything. The distance, reminding him that he doesn’t know her anymore. The nights spent in his truck, twisting him into thinking that no time has passed. The way she keeps looking at him like they didn’t leave each other in pieces. Like she didn’t leave him in pieces, shattered like that blood-smeared glass.

Clearing his throat, Adam’s voice is quieter now, more resigned. “I’m gonna go.” He throws Avery one last glance before turning and walking out, his footsteps heavy as the door clicks shut behind him.

Avery doesn’t take her eyes off Jay, her frustration crackling in the stale air. “I told you to stop making this about Adam,” she seethes. “You don’t get to pick fights with him just because you’re pissed at me.”

“You really think this is about Adam?” he asks, voice low and rough as he takes a step toward her. She folds her arms, but there’s something else in her eyes now. Wariness. Hurt. A challenge lingers, though, and Jay huffs out a bitter laugh when she just arches a brow, shaking his head before dragging a hand over his face. “You really don’t get it, do you?

“Then enlighten me,” she bites out quickly. She thought they were over this. That they were moving forward—or at least settling into something more tenable, an understanding that they could co-exist in.

He takes another step closer, the heat between them palpable, the space between them charged with everything they still haven’t said. “You come back from the dead, and you act like I’m the one who changed,” he grits out. “Like I’m the problem. You push me away, tell me we need distance, and then what? Drag me back in like this is some kind of game?”

She flinches, just barely, but it’s enough for him to see it. “You think I planned that?” Avery snaps, stepping toe to toe, pretending like she isn’t afraid. Not of him, no. But of them—the two of them, together. “You think I wanted to wake up in a hospital bed with two years of my life missing?”

His jaw clenches impossibly tight, the pain somehow grounding him. “Then why the hell have you spent every second since you came back acting like I’m the one who left you?” Her breath hitches audibly, but Jay doesn’t stop. He can’t. He’s done holding this in. “You chose Adam as your partner. You kept your distance. It took days for you to come see me when I almost died, and then you just walked out,” he spits out, his voice breaking. “And now you want to act like I’m the bad guy? When I’m still putting everything on the line to help you?”

Deafening silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. Her lips press into a tight line, her hands clenching at her sides. “You think this has been easy for me?” she finally whispers, her voice shaking. “I know what I did, the choices I made. But I didn’t choose to have my entire life ripped away from me.”

His chest tightens as tears well in her eyes, “Avery…”

“No, you don’t get to be the victim here,” she says, voice raw, stepping even closer until there’s barely a breath between them. “You didn’t have to wake up in a nightmare. You didn’t have to piece together a past you don’t even remember. You didn’t have to see the man you—” she stops herself, sucking in a shaky breath before continuing. “The man you thought was still yours, standing in the hallway, holding someone else’s hand.”

His throat goes dry at the realization. She saw him. She woke up confused and hurt. And instead of opening her eyes to him at her side, she saw him with Hailey.

“I woke up like it was one day,” Avery’s voice breaks.

His hands tremble at his sides as he swallows roughly, “Ave.”

Her face twists, her walls slamming back into place. “You want to be mad at me? Fine. But don’t you dare pretend like you’re the only one who got hurt.”

Jay looks away, his jaw tight as he forces himself to breathe. She’s right. Of course she’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“You should go,” she mutters, stepping back in desperate need of space. “Before we say something we can’t take back.”

But Jay doesn’t move.

He should. He knows he should.

Instead, he does something stupid.

He reaches out.

His fingers brush against her wrist, and she sucks in a sharp breath, her entire body going still. Her pulse beats wildly under his fingertips, and for a second—just a second—she lets him hold on.

Then she yanks her arm away like he’s burned her.

“This isn’t fair,” Avery whispers, voice barely audible.

Jay swallows hard, “No. It’s not.”

She takes another step back, putting real distance between them now. “We can’t keep doing this.” I can’t keep doing this.

He exhales slowly as something twists in his stomach. A heavy, overwhelming sense of dread. Finally, he nods, “I know.”

Neither of them moves. Neither of them leaves.

The locker room door creaks open again, and they both snap their heads toward it.

Kevin’s slightly wide-eyed gaze flicks between them, eyebrows raising high into his forehead. “Uh… is this a bad time?”

Blinking rapidly, Avery shakes her head before turning on her heel and forcing a smile. “No. I was just leaving.”

Jay watches her go, his stomach dropping as she pushes past Kev without another word.

The bass from the speakers pulses through Avery’s chest, the thrum of the music matching the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat. The bar is crowded, bodies pressing together on the dance floor, voices raised in laughter and conversation that blurs into a dull roar. She sits at the bar, her half-empty glass of whiskey in front of her, the amber liquid catching the flashing neon lights that paint the room in shades of red and blue.

Her head was heavy, spinning slightly as she takes another sip, the alcohol burning its way down her throat. It doesn’t taste good—not really—but it helps. Helps blur the sharp edges of her thoughts, dulls the ache that’s been clawing at her chest all week.

She hasn’t talked to Jay since their fight in the locker room. Since he grabbed her wrist. Since she yanked away. He hasn’t come to the stakeouts the last two nights, leaving her to sit in her car alone, the silence screaming at her. He hasn’t offered, and she hasn’t asked.

She should be glad. Should be relieved.

Instead, she feels like the tight coil that was barely holding her together is unraveling.

More memories have been coming back every single time she closed her eyes, jagged and painful, clawing their way to the surface no matter how much she tried to bury them. Her mind flickers to Nikolai, to the sound of her own screams echoing in that cold, damp room. To his voice, low and cruel, asking her over and over, Who are you?

Avery squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her fingers to her temples as if she could will the images away. But they are relentless, invading her thoughts like a storm she couldn’t escape. Everything feels tangled and messy, her emotions an unbearable weight she can only lessen with alcohol.

She hates herself for how much she thinks about Jay. Every moment they spend together feels like a lifeline, but it also reopens old wounds. She thought she was doing the right thing by pushing him away, by letting him move on with Hailey. But now, she isn’t sure. She misses him. But it’s clear how hurt and angry he is. She doesn’t know how much longer they can do this back and forth before one of them breaks, shatters into so many pieces that it’ll be impossible to glue back together. What they have now isn’t sustainable, not in this job. Not with both of them in this unit.

“Avery.” The voice comes from beside her, smooth, familiar. She blinks, looking up to find one of the club’s regulars Mark—or maybe Matt?—leaning against the bar next to her. His lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you here again,” he says, tilting his head as his eyes rake over her. “You good?”

She forces a smirk, even though her stomach is twisting. “Do I not look good?”

He chuckles, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small baggie. A few little white pills clink together inside. He holds it between two fingers, offering them to her like a gift. “Here. This’ll help.”

Her breath catches in her throat, her pulse quickening as her eyes narrow in on the bag. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up, her hand curling tightly around her glass as she fights the urge to reach for it.

It would be so easy. One pill. One small pill to take the edge off. Just enough to forget. To stop the memories, the guilt, the pain.

The man leans closer, taking out two of the pills and slipping them into her hand, “On the house. You look like you could use it.”

Avery stares at them, rolling them in her palm experimentally. The urge is a living thing, crawling up her throat, sinking its claws into her skin.

Just one.

She needs to get out of here. Slamming her palm on the table, she quickly jumps to her feet. His words of protest come, but she doesn’t hear it. She’s already backing away, shoving through the crowd of drunk people, her breaths coming painfully fast.

Her feet carry her out of the club and into the cold Chicago night, the icy air slapping her in the face. Her hands shake as she digs her phone out of her pocket. She barely registers what she’s doing, who she’s calling. Her fingers move on autopilot.

The call rings twice before Adam picks up, his voice groggy, “Hello?”

“Can I come over?” she asks, her voice hoarse, barely above the pounding of the music that can still be heard from the sidewalk.

There’s a pause on the other end, then a quiet sigh. “Yeah. Of course.”

She nods even though he can’t see it, mumbling a quick, “Be there soon,” before hanging up. She stares at the screen for a moment, her breath hitching, before she slips the phone back in her pocket. Avery’s feet start moving before her mind can catch up, the wind biting into her skin and sobering her up just slightly. With every step, she has to fight the desire to turn around. To go back inside that club, back to that guy and back to those magic little pills that can take away all the hurt and the anger and the guilt.

The streets are quiet, the snow falling softly around her as she makes her way through the city, still on edge. Her breath comes in short, visible puffs, her boots crunching against the frozen pavement. She doesn’t know what she was going to say when she gets there. She’s still pissed at him for starting a fight with Jay. How am I the bad guy when I’m the one who got sucker punched? His disbelieving voice rings in her head making a small smile tug at her lips, just enough to distract her for a moment.

When Avery reaches the apartment building, she stares up at the brick and blinks slowly, trying to make sense of her fragmented thoughts. She bites her lip, realizing that she probably shouldn’t be here. Before she can decide to cut and run, though, an older man with a dog opens the door and she slips inside with a casual smile. Her mind races as she climbs the stairs, the beat of the club’s music still thrumming under her skin. By the time she reaches the door, her breathing is shallow, her emotions a tangled mess. She raises her hand, hesitating for a split second before knocking.

prev . . . next

[moonglowmagic]

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Didn’t expect you too.” She told him with an eye roll before shrugging when he said he’d stick around for a bit longer. “I don’t know. Probably some European country. I’ve just heard it over the years.” She commented. Reaching into the bowl to pull out another grape but all she could feel was stems. “Just because I was born lucky doesn’t mean anything. I mean did you forget the whole changeling thing or the criminal thing? Neither of those are really what I would consider lucky.” She explained to him before sighing heavily. “Oh shut up, you’re acting like you’re not kissing my sister at midnight. Leyla will find you.” She reassured him. It was when he asked who that she started to panic slightly and her cheeks flushed red. Resting her head in her hand and she tried to muffle her words. “Might maybe be Song.” Trying to play it off as if she’d just said the most mundane thing. “Ken— how can he not know? I’ve tried to kiss him twice now, I showed up to his bar in my night gown for Christ Sakes.” Letting out the annoyance that was overwhelming her, she angrily hit the bowl away from her. “I don’t know how else I can make it more clear besides out right saying it and I’ll be honest that’s the last thing I want to do. At least if he continues to reject me like he has then I can play it off and pretend it’s not a thing. My god if I actually say the loud part out loud then we have to acknowledge it.” She rambled on before covering her face with both hands. “I don’t want to do this if it’s just going to end up with me being rejected. It already hurt bad enough when I walked away last time from someone I liked.” Raking a hand through her hair as she made it messy. “You know what I should just shove it down and we can pretend this conversation never happened. Sound good?” Finally shutting up for a second and inhaling a deep breath. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tossing a grape at Ken in the hopes to get him out of the grumpy mood he was in. “We still have hours. Give her time. I’m sure she’ll find you before midnight.” Reassuring him as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Can’t help with the people thing though that’s kinda a thing given it’s a party, but you can hang with me longer if you want. Also I do take full offense.” She teased. “They’re good. Plus, they might provide extra luck if you eat them under a table. I’m kinda hoping if I just eat them at the table the luck will find me.” She could certainly use it. “Well I don’t want too. Trust me I would also like to give away my kiss for once on New Years, but…” Trailing off as she slumped down into her seat. “ I kinda want it to mean something.” Which she knew was stupid, but she couldn’t help it. “But doesn’t matter anyways cause the person I want to kiss clearly doesn’t want to kiss me back so here I sit eating my grapes.”

[fakehusbandgarbagedump]

THE PATRIOT (2000) Jason Isaacs as Colonel William Tavington requested by @lyledebeast

[loveletterworm]

I spent all day figuring out how to do this (modded playermodel) (very fancy) but to be honest I don't even intend to use this skin at all so I don't know what was the point of the effort. Also I saw a spider