#but it’s always felt like just a movie thing to me

[natalievoncatte]

“What if we don’t go back yet?”

It was a peculiar question that Lena asked, but a compelling one. She was currently lying with Kara, or rather *on* Kara, after the Kryptonian caught her once again. Kara had slipped under as she fell and cushioned the fall with her invulnerable body, and they currently lay in the wreckage of a sailboat along the docks, the ruined and smashed vessel bobbing gently in the ocean.

“What do you mean?”

“Alex and the crew can get the guy,” said Lena.

She was referring to the second-rate wannabe villain that had tossed Lena off the roof as a ploy to distract Supergirl and cover his escape. It had worked, of course, with Kara abandoning her manhunt to catch Lena. As she always did. That was apparently why he kidnapped her in the first place instead of, who knows, maybe robbing banks in a town without a superhero.

It didn’t seem to matter much now. Kara was warm and had wrapped them both up in her cape, and Lena’s head lay pillowed on her shoulder. Kara curled around her, breathing gently into the crown of her head.

“Why wouldn’t we go back?”

“I’m tired,” Lena murmured, giving the words more truth than she meant to. She was tired, so tired. She could sleep for a thousand years here, lying with Kara.

This always went the same way. Kara would bear her to safety like a knight in shining armor and set her down and then she’d step back.

The contact would end.

It’s not like they never touched- they hugged and kissed each other on the cheek even, and Lena secretly treasured that, but it wasn’t enough. It was different when Kara rescued her.

If physical touch was Kara’s love language, the way she held Lena after a rescue was a kind of Freudian slip. These embraces were more, just more in a profound, indescribable way.

She was always so tender, after. She would sweep the hair from Lena’s eyes and just touch her for the sake of it, running the pad of her thumb along Lena’s jawline or hugging her extra tight, extra close, fearful and yet utterly fearless.

Much as she was holding Lena now.

“I know,” Kara whispered.

She did know. If there was anyone truly in tune with her needs, it was Kara. Kara cared, so fully, so deeply, so recklessly that Lena could barely understand it, and scarcely believe it.

“I want to stay here with you.”

Kara tensed slightly, throat bobbing as she swallows and her breath caught.

“What I want more than anything is just time to be us,” Lena said, very softly. “You and me. No company, no DEO, no adventures, no crises. I could just lay with you here forever.”

Kara was quiet, gently working her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“I’ve thought about things like that.”

“What sort of things?”

She was quiet for too long a beat, then said, “just us being us, alone. No game night, no movie night, no brunch, no Noonan’s, just this. Just you and me and… and relaxing.”

“Cuddling, you mean.”

Kara shifted herself, gave Lena a little squeeze.

“I don’t want to go either. I don’t want to let go of you.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked at Kara, at her golden hair fanned out around her head and her questioning blue eyes.

“So don’t.”

Gently, carefully, Lena freed an arm and rested a palm against Kara’s cheek. Her skin was always so warm, so lusciously soft. Kara was watching her intently, eyes searching.

“I think it’s customary, after the brave her saves the girl, that the hero gets a kiss.”

Kara tensed, clearly nervous. It was the most adorable thing Lena had ever seen.

She kissed her.

Kara was stone still at first, barely responding, then something seemed to awaken in her and she kissed Lena back, intensely. Lena was a little shocked at the sudden way Kara almost seemed to lunge into her, how her hands suddenly moved and she took Lena by the hips.

It was amazing. Her heart fluttered and her head was swinging and she felt a cold shock-

“Kara! The boat is sinking!”

With the most annoyed sigh, Kara stood and lifted Lena into a bridal carry. Water was gurgling up around them.

“Alex is going to kill me,” said Kara.

“Alex can wait,” said Lena. “Take me home.”

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 1

pairing: you x drew starkey

The sound of Drew’s laugh filled the cozy apartment as you scrolled through your phone, settling deeper into the plush couch. It was a laugh you’d heard a thousand times – warm, genuine and utterly infectious. You glanced up to see him standing in the kitchen, stirring pasta sauce in a hoodie that he’d stolen from your side of the closet weeks ago. The sigh made your heart swell.

“How’s it going?” you asked, setting your phone aside.

“Almost done,” Drew said, flashing you a grin over his shoulder. “Hope you’re ready to be impressed by my gourmet skills.”

You chuckled, pulling your knees to your chest. “If it’s anything like last time, I should probably have the takeout app ready.”

Drew pretended to be offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “That was one time! And in my defense, the oven was possessed.”

Moments like this had become your favorite part of life with Drew – quiet, intimate evenings that felt words away from the chaos of Hollywood. For all the glitz and glam of his career, Drew was just Drew with you.

As you watched him carefully plate the pasta, you couldn’t help but feel proud of everything he’d accomplished. His latest role in the Hellraiser reboot was shaping up to be a major career move. And while you knew the spotlights came with challenges, you’d always been his biggest cheerleader.

Later that night, as the two of you lounged on the couch, Drew’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, then sighed.

“It’s my manager,” he said, sitting up. “Give me a sec?”

“Of course,” you said, reaching for the remote to find something to watch.

Drew stepped into the next room, his voice low but audible enough for snippets to carry over.

“…. Press tours…. Odessa …. Chemistry angle?”

You tried to focus on the TV, but your curiosity got the better of you. Odessa A’Zion – Drew’s new co-star. You’d seen her name pop up recently in articles about the movie, paired with glowing reviews of her talent and personality. She seemed nice enough in interviews – bold and charming in a way that made you feel a little plain by comparison.

“Everything okay?” you asked, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, but his tone wasn’t convincing. “Just.. movie stuff. Our team thinks Odessa and I need to lean into the whole co-star chemistry thing for the press.”

“Chemistry thing?” you echoed, your brow furrowing.

“It’s all PR,” Drew said quickly, his hands finding yours. “They’re talking about a few staged photo ops, maybe some friendly banter during interviews. You know how it goes.”

You nodded slowly, even as an uneasy feeling settled in your chest. You did know how it went – Hollywood loved its narratives, and the lines between fiction and reality often blurred.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Drew added, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. Not Odessa. Never Odessa.”

You smiled softly, but the words didn’t erase the knot in your stomach.

The first set of paparazzi photos hit the internet like a wildfire: Drew and Odessa at a café, leaning across the table as if sharing a secret. Her laugh was captured mid-burst, her hand grazing his arm.

The headlines were just as dramatic as you’d feared: Drew Starkey and Odessa A ‘Zion’s Off-Screen Chemistry is Off the Charts!

You scrolled through the photos on your phone, bile rising in your throat. They were clearly staged, every angle too perfect to be a coincidence. But that didn’t make it easier to stomach.

The worst part was the comments. Fans fawned over the “new power couple”, dissecting every detail of their interactions. People who had once rooted for you and Drew now seemed eager to erase you from the narrative entirely.

When Drew came home that night, you tried to play it cool, but your unease must’ve shown.

“Hey” he said, dropping his bag by the door and crossing the room to kiss your forehead. “You okay?”

“Mmm, fine” you said, forcing a smile.

Drew studied you for a moment before glancing at your phone. His face fell as he recognized the photos.

“Y/N, I –“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, setting the phone aside. “I know it’s just PR. It’s your job.”

Drew sat beside you, his hands wrapping around yours. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said firmly. “You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one I love.”

You wanted to believe him. But as Drew kissed your temple and pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered, whispering doubts you weren’t ready to face.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @hoelesslyt @wtfdudesblog

[emasstars]

broken glass

simon riley doubts his worthiness of having you | hurt/comfort(?)

sorry i was gone for so long. i haven’t felt motivated in a while. this is just an attempt to get back into writing. i’ve been working on various projects, abandoning them halfway through. was relatively proud of this, so i’ve decided to post it.

mentions of abuse. insecurities. i don’t know, tell me if i missed any.

He was born into a home of broken glass, every argument a shard, every silence a fracture.

Simon Riley had been born into chaos. His earliest memories were of screams that echoed through the halls of a crumbling home, the heavy thuds of fists against thin walls, the sound of a door slamming as his mother stumbled from the house, her face bruised and hollow. His father, always drunk, was a constant presence—a shadow, a monster—who only softened when his fists fell silent, usually in a moment of fleeting remorse, or more likely, when his anger was spent.

He was a man who was shattered like thin glass, a splinter that made you bleed and quickly pull your hand away like there was fire. He drew blood, his hands rough and calloused, a man too harsh to be loved. War was all he had, and all he’d known, even if he wanted to know better. He had so many questions, and yet he choked on the words as he tried to ask, instead opting to drown deeply in the cacophony of screams. He searched for peace, a man who’d never experienced such, echoes of gunshots ringing in his ears and never offering any silence. He was engineered by a system to survive, to endure, but never to heal.

Simon didn’t sleep anymore, or, if he did, it was never rest.

His whole life had been dedicated to violence, actively seeking it as much as he avoided it. He felt stained with the blood he drew, scars along his back only indicating the pain he endured rather than that which he caused. Simon was a man who was supposed to be dead, and yet, the cruel God which seemed to have cursed him refused to let such a thing occur. His soul cracked in ways he couldn't articulate, his body a crumpled map of all he'd been through. He’d gone through existence without ever living.

He sought for warmth and comfort, even though he knew he could never be worthy of such a thing. He was a man who stained the snow-lands a deep scarlet. He was a wreck of a man who broke everything with his touch, strangling flowers in his grasp.

Perhaps that was why he fell so hard for you. You were like a beacon of light, granting him some solace. Giving him sympathies which he didn’t deserve, yet he yearned for. His head rested on your chest as he listened to your heart beat, assuring him that you were real and you were here. Whispered confessions of love still left doubt in his twisted mind, convinced you’d find someone better than him. He was convinced you might leave, holding on tightly to you and treating you as best as a man like him knew how to.

He’d never had a proper role model for love, most of the things he knew having been learned from books he’d stumbled upon or movies he’d watched. He was a man with a wicked father, and no matter the care of his mother, that evilness he believed was deep inside him could never be cancelled out. Love was a foreign language to him.

After all, there was no escaping the ghosts that haunted him, for he was one himself.

And yet you made him believe it might be possible.

His harsh voice would whisper your name like a secret prayer, his hand with its scarred knuckles gripping your gentle hand tightly. Perhaps he was finally starting to believe you might not go anywhere.

One night, in the capture of the moonlight which snuck through the cracks of the pulled curtains, Simon asked, slightly more loudly than he intended to, “why do you love me?”

Fingers that were previously toying with his slowed to a stop, and you adjusted yourself to stare at him. “What do you mean?” you replied. Your brows were furrowed, confusion evident on your face, and yet Simon could swear you looked like a deity. A blessing, was what you were to him. Someone who managed to let him know that maybe he wasn’t as ill as he’d convinced himself he was, a carefully-crafted facade having broken down more as the months turned into years.

He sat up, not sure how to word it. He was a man of few of those, after all. He plainly answered, “exactly what I asked,” slightly shrugging.

You bit your lip, seemingly thinking for a moment. It felt like a stupid question. Why did anyone love anyone, after all? Why did he love you, you could even ask. You swallowed, deciding to softly say, “because you’re worth loving.”

And perhaps he might one day start to believe he is, especially of the love of yours. The moments of bared insecurity were rare, occurring in only the latest times of night, the moon the only other witness of the confessions. They were caused by exhaustion, barely recalled when the sun rose. Yet, each night it happened, as he let himself sometimes cry in your arms after a nightmare, or letting drops of pain drip out of his soul, he was slowly starting to believe your honesty when you said you would not leave.

When you said that you love him.

He was a man with a shattered ego which he’d tried to tape back together flimsily, yet you made new parts of him which were whole. Certain parts could never be filled, but as long as you were in his arms, the pains of his soul may slowly fade away into nothing but background noise, lullabies of your words drowning them out as delicate fingers ran themselves over his scarred and tortured body.

A hand rough from holding knives and guns could tend for flowers as well, he was slowly starting to learn.

[greengoblinswifey]

we desperately need more sub!nicholas please like not even inexperienced just maybe you punishing him (sexually) for staying out late or flirting with another girl in front of you 😁

summary— you punish nicholas for coming home late in the best way possible.

warnings— pure smut, sub!nicholas, bondage, hand job, degradation, praise kink, edging, overstimulation, face sitting, gagging, use of sex toys, protected sex.

a/n— i love dom!nicholas but sub!nicholas awakens something in me🤭

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It had started earlier in the day, when he mentioned he had an interview scheduled with his female co-star for GQ. Of course, you’d played it cool, brushing off that familiar pang of irritation you always felt when he worked closely with women in the industry. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, you trusted him. Nicholas had never given you a reason not to. He was as sweet as they came, always coming home to you with stories of his day, his eyes lighting up like a kid showing off a drawing they made. He adored you, and you knew that.

But you also knew how these things could go. The media was relentless, pairing him with every beautiful actress he worked with, spinning stories of secret romances and undeniable chemistry. You’d roll your eyes when you saw the headlines, but deep down, it always left a bitter taste. You hated how they tried to chip away at the image of your Nicholas, the loyal, goofy, golden boy who brought you coffee in bed and left love notes on the bathroom mirror.

Still, you’d let it go this morning. It was part of the job, you reminded yourself. Nicholas had kissed you on the forehead before he left, promising he’d be back by evening. “I’ll order you take out and we can watch a movie,” grinning like the whole world started and ended with you.

But evening came and went, and your sweet Nicholas was nowhere to be found.

At first, you’d been concerned. This wasn’t like him, he always checked in, even if he was running late. But as the hours ticked by with no texts or calls, concern gave way to frustration. You checked your phone repeatedly, half-expecting it to buzz with an explanation, but it remained silent.

By the time the clock struck midnight, your patience had worn thin. He’d better have a damn good excuse, you thought, sitting on the bed in nothing but your lingerie. You weren’t usually one to go full dominatrix, to an extent, yes, but tonight? Oh, tonight Nicholas was going to learn that you weren’t someone to take lightly.

Nicholas knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the house. The stillness in the air was off, almost as if it had been waiting for him to walk through the door. He dropped his bag near the entrance and hesitated before heading toward the bedroom, his heart hammering. He already knew you’d be upset—of course, you would. He’d said he’d be home hours ago, and not even a text had been sent to you. That wasn’t like him, and he knew better than to leave you hanging.

As he pushed the bedroom door open, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but a black lace set of lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated your skin, and his eyes darted to the items laid beside you—a roll of tape and a pair of handcuffs. Nicholas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he realized just how much trouble he was in.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice dripping with controlled irritation.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and then at you. “Uh, it’s—“

You cut him off sharply. “I didn’t ask what time it was. What time you were supposed to be home?”

“Seven,” he mumbled, his voice sheepish. He looked like a boy caught sneaking out past curfew.

“And what time is it now?” you asked, tilting your head as if daring him to lie.

“M- midnight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He already knew where this was headed.

“And why the fuck,” you began, your tone firm and unyielding, "are you just now walking through the door?"

He stuttered, fumbling for an explanation. “I—I lost track of time. There was an after-party, and, uh”

“I don’t give a fuck about your after-party,” you snapped, rising from the bed. Your presence was commanding, and Nicholas froze as you walked toward him. “You think you can just waltz in here hours late without a text or a call and everything will be fine? Do you know how worried I was? And did you forget my rules?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in desperation. “I really didn’t mean to—“

“Save it,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t get to apologize and think that fixes it. You’re getting punished tonight.”

Nicholas’ eyes widened, flicking nervously to the handcuffs on the bed. He wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified—or maybe both. “Punished?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you said simply, stepping closer until you were inches away from him. “You need to learn to respect my time. Do you understand me?”

He nodded quickly, his golden retriever-like obedience shining through even now. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” you said, your lips curving into a wicked smile. You reached for the tape and handcuffs, holding them up for emphasis. “Now, be a good boy and do exactly as I say.”

Nicholas’ breath hitched, and he gave a slight, nervous chuckle. “You’re really mad, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He immediately shook his head. “No ma’am. No, you don’t.”

“Then shut up and get on the bed,” you commanded, your voice firm but teasing. He obeyed without hesitation, stripping himself of his clothes, knowing full well he’d walked right into this.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m all yours.”

And tonight, you intended to make sure he remembered that.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking nervously between the handcuffs in your hand and your face, which held an expression he couldn’t quite read. You didn’t give him much time to think about it, though, you pushed him back, flat against the mattress, and before he could say a word, his wrists were locked in place, cuffed to the headboard.

He tugged at the restraints instinctively, testing their strength, but it was no use. His hands were pinned, leaving him completely at your mercy. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling as he looked up at you, his eyes momentarily replaced with something more vulnerable.

“You look scared, Nicholas,” you teased, leaning down just enough to let your hair brush against his flushed face. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little punishment.”

“I— I’m not,” he stammered, though the way his Adam's apple bobbed suggested otherwise.

“Good,” you said, straightening up. “Because the least you can do is make me feel good after keeping me waiting all night. And don’t even think about touching me. You’ve lost that privilege.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he nodded. “Of course. Anything for you.”

You climbed onto the bed, your knees straddling his chest as you moved up, slowly and deliberately. His eyes tracked your every movement, dark with anticipation. By the time you hovered over him, his breaths were coming out in short, uneven bursts.

“Don’t disappoint me, Nicholas,” you said, gripping the headboard for balance as you lowered yourself onto his mouth. His reaction was immediate, a muffled groan that sent a shiver up your spine as his tongue began to work.

He didn’t hesitate, his mouth moving against you like a man starved. The way he devoured you was almost frantic, his tongue lapping and flicking as though he were trying to prove himself worthy of redemption.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding. “You’d better make me cum, or you’re really not going to like what happens next.”

He whimpered in response, a muffled sound that only spurred you on. His efforts grew more fervent, his tongue moving in rhythm as you tightened your grip on the headboard, your knuckles turning white.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice sharp. “You’re supposed to be my good boy, but you’re making me wait to cum.”

His muffled protests only made you smirk, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Finally, the pressure built to a breaking point, and your orgasm overtook you, leaving you breathless as your body trembled. Nicholas slowed down but didn’t stop, his tongue gentle now, coaxing every last ounce of satisfaction from you.

When you finally pulled away, his face was flushed, his lips parted and glistening as he looked up at you. “Was I—was I your good boy?” he asked, his voice hoarse, almost pleading.

You laughed, a short, sharp sound that made him flinch. “You think one good deed is enough to make up for tonight?”

He blinked up at you, unsure whether to answer.

“Nice try,” you said, leaning down to press a finger to his lips.

You moved down his body slowly, watching as his chest rose and fell, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. His arousal was painfully obvious, cock hard, standing at attention, twitching with need. It almost looked unbearable, and the sight made you smirk.

Your fingers grazed the tip, soft and teasing, and he flinched, his whole body tensing as he let out a shaky exhale. His hands strained against the handcuffs, the metal clinking against the bedpost.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice tight, almost breaking. “Please, just—just put it in your mouth.”

You laughed, a low, mocking sound that made his face flush deeper. “Put it in my mouth?” you repeated, tilting your head as though the suggestion was absurd. “You don’t get to demand anything, Nicholas. Have you forgotten where you are right now?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t demanding,” he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in his desperation.

“You’re talking too much,” you said, reaching for the roll of tape on the bed. His eyes widened as he realized your intention, but he didn’t dare protest. The second you placed the tape over his mouth, his muffled whimper made your smile widen. “That’s better.”

You let your fingers trail back down, brushing over his dick with deliberate slowness. His hips jerked involuntarily, a muffled groan escaping through the tape. You wrapped your hand around him, squeezing just enough to make him shiver, and started moving—slow, teasing strokes that barely gave him relief.

It didn’t take long for him to unravel. His breathing hitched, his head pressed back into the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut. His thighs trembled under your touch, and his muffled sounds became more frantic as you worked your hand on his thick cock.

“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” you said, your tone dripping with amusement as you let your thumb brush over the sensitive tip. He twitched under your touch, leaking and red, his body betraying just how badly he needed release.

Nicholas whimpered, his hands thrashing against the restraints, his whole body straining. His muffled noises were growing louder, more desperate, and you could tell he was close. His legs were trembling, his hips lifting slightly as though chasing your hand, and then, you stopped.

His muffled groan was almost a scream as his hips fell back against the bed. His protests were incoherent, his head turning to look at you with wide, pleading eyes. His face was flushed, a deep red spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, and he looked so utterly wrecked that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, sitting back on your heels as he writhed beneath you. “Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?”

He groaned again, his frustration clear even through the tape, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Don’t worry,” you murmured. “We’ve got all night.”

Leaning over to the side table, you retrieved a small vibrator, holding it up for him to see. His eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly, his muffled protests intensifying. You chuckled, running your fingers lightly over the toy, switching it on so it buzzed softly in your hand.

“Oh, don’t act so scared, baby,” you teased, trailing the buzzing tip along his inner thigh. His body jolted at the sensation, a strangled whimper escaping him. “You wanted this. Didn’t you just beg me to make you feel good?”

He shook his head furiously, his muffled words barely audible, and you laughed at his pitiful attempt to escape. “No? Then what’s this?” You let the vibrator skim over his shaft, just for a second, and he groaned loudly, his hips bucking toward the sensation before you pulled it away.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice soft but taunting. “So needy. So desperate. I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already falling apart.”

Nicholas’ legs shook as you teased him, running the vibrator up and down his shaft in the lightest, most maddening touches. His head thrashed against the pillow, muffled groans and high-pitched whimpers spilling out of him. His whole body trembled, his hips involuntarily jerking toward you, but you didn’t give him what he wanted.

“Stay still,” you ordered sharply, and he froze, his body tense as though trying to obey. You rewarded him by pressing the vibrator against the sensitive tip, holding it there for just a moment. His muffled cry was loud, his back arching as his hands clenched into fists above his head.

“You’re such a mess,” you murmured, dragging the toy down to the base and back up again, keeping the pressure light. “So greedy for it. You’d do anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded desperately, his eyes locking onto yours as if begging for mercy. But you weren’t done. Switching the vibrator to a higher setting, you pressed it against him again, keeping your hand steady as he thrashed beneath you.

“Ah, ah,” you cooed, placing a hand on his stomach to hold him down. “No running from me, baby. You wanted this, remember?”

Nicholas’ muffled cries grew louder, his hips grinding helplessly against the toy as you worked him over. His entire body was trembling, his legs shaking violently as he edged closer and closer to release.

And then, just as his body tensed and his muffled whimpers turned to desperate pleas, you pulled the toy away.

The sound he made was almost heartbreaking, a loud, frustrated cry muffled by the tape. His head turned toward you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his expression pure desperation.

“Poor thing,” you said mockingly, trailing your fingers down his thigh as he quivered under your touch. “Did you really think I’d let you finish? You haven’t earned it yet.”

Nicholas let out another muffled groan, his body writhing against the bed as he tugged weakly at the restraints. His voice cracked as he tried to plead, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his jaw. “And you’re going to thank me for it when I’m done.”

Switching the vibrator back on, you pressed it to him again, starting the cycle all over. This time, you added your free hand to the mix, stroking him lightly, alternating between teasing and stopping entirely. His muffled cries turned into broken whimpers, his body trembling violently as you pushed him to the edge again and again, only to deny him every single time.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you murmured, watching as his face flushed a deep red. “Completely at my mercy. Just the way I like you.”

By the time you finally stopped, he was a wreck. His chest heaved, his body glistening with sweat, his eyes glassy and unfocused. You smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tape over his mouth.

Reaching over to the nightstand again, you retrieved another toy, a sleek, silver vibrating wand. His eyes widened at the sight and you switched it on, the low buzz filling the room as you trailed it slowly down his chest, letting it rest against his hip bone before dragging it even lower.

“Look at you,” you teased, holding the wand just above where he wanted it most, his cock. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Is this what you want, baby? Is this what you need?”

He nodded frantically, his hips jerking up in an attempt to get some friction, but you quickly pressed him back down with your hand. “No, stop,” you scolded, a grin spreading across your face. “I’m in control here.”

You moved the wand closer, letting the vibrations graze the sensitive base of his cock. He let out a muffled cry, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body tensed. His hips bucked again, but you kept your hand firm on his stomach, holding him in place as he writhed beneath you.

“You’re so desperate. You wish I’d let you cum, right?”

He nodded again, his eyes glossy with tears as he met your gaze. His muffled pleas were incoherent, but you could feel the desperation radiating from him. You chuckled, dragging the wand back and forth in agonizingly slow motions, keeping him on the edge without letting him cum.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, pressing the wand harder against him for just a moment. His muffled moan was loud, his body arching off the bed as he was on edge. But before he could finish, you pulled it away entirely, laughing softly as he let out a frustrated cry.

“Not yet,” you said sweetly, brushing a strand of hair from his damp forehead.

Tears slipped down his flushed cheeks, his hands pulling uselessly against the cuffs as he begged through the tape. You tilted your head, pretending to consider before reaching for a condom from the nightstand.

“Don’t look so hopeful,” you teased, tearing the foil open. “You’re not getting everything you want. You don’t deserve that.”

His eyes widened as you rolled the condom down over him, and you grinned at his pitiful expression. Usually, you didn’t bother with condoms, letting him feel all of you, but tonight was about punishment.

You climbed onto him, straddling his hips, and his muffled whimper sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you sank down onto him, taking his hard and leaking cock inch by inch. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back as a deep moan rumbled in his chest.

“Eyes on me,” you ordered sharply, and his gaze snapped back to yours, wide and desperate. “I want you to watch. Watch what you can’t touch.”

You set a brutal pace, riding him hard and fast, your hands gripping his chest for balance. His muffled cries grew louder, his body trembling beneath you as he struggled to keep up. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Don’t you fucking dare cum.”

He whimpered, his eyes glistening as he nodded quickly, his entire body shaking with the effort to hold himself back. “Good boy,” you said mockingly, sitting back up and continuing your relentless movements. “I bet you wish you could feel my pussy raw. Don’t you, baby? I bet you wish you could touch me, squeeze me, hold me.”

Nicholas nodded frantically, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as his muffled sobs filled the room. “Pathetic,” you muttered, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder. “You’re so needy. So desperate. It’s almost cute.”

You felt your orgasm building, your movements growing erratic as you chased your own pleasure. When it finally hit, you cried out, your body shaking as you collapsed forward onto his chest. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back as he stared up at you with a mix of awe and desperation.

“You’re so beautiful,” you heard him mumble faintly through the tape, his voice trembling. You laughed softly, brushing his damp hair back as you caught your breath.

“That’s right,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “And you’re lucky I let you have any of me at all.”

Catching your breath, you turned around to face the opposite direction, giving Nicholas a perfect view of your ass. His muffled whimpers grew louder when you started bouncing on him again, the sound of your ass meeting him filling the room. His body was trembling beneath you, his hands pulling helplessly at the handcuffs, and you could hear the muffled desperation in his voice.

“You sound so pathetic,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I bet you wish you could touch me right now. Squeeze my ass the way you love to and slap it. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his eyes wide and filled with tears as you wiggled your hips, grinding down on him just enough to make him cry out behind the tape. “Please!” he begged, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and it only made you grin wider.

“Poor thing,” you mocked, riding him harder now, your nails digging into the bed as you steadied yourself. “You can’t even handle me, can you?”

His muffled groans turned into full-blown sobs as you felt the pressure building inside you. You arched your back, your own moans spilling from your lips as the intensity became too much to hold back. With a sharp cry, you came, your body shuddering violently as you squirted, the sensation leaving you breathless. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body trembled.

“You’ve been such a good little fuck toy for me,” you said, your voice still breathless as you turned to look at him. His cheeks were damp with tears, his eyes pleading as he stared up at you. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

He nodded rapidly, his muffled voice frantic as he tried to answer. Reaching back, you peeled the tape off his mouth, and he gasped for air before the words started spilling out in a rush. “Yes! Yes, please, I’ve learned my lesson! I’ll never be late again, I swear! Please, please, I need to—“

“Shhh,” you interrupted, running your hand over his chest to quiet him. "You’re talking too much again. Beg for it. Show me how much you want it.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he looked up at you with desperation in his eyes. “Please, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll never be late again. I’ll do anything—anything you want. Please let me cum. I need it so bad, please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his words as you kept moving your hips, the pace slow and deliberate now. “Hmm. I guess you’ve been good enough," you said, leaning down just slightly. “You can cum now, baby.”

The moment the words left your mouth, his entire body tensed, and a strangled moan ripped from his throat as he finally let go. He practically exploded into the condom, his orgasm hitting him so hard that tears spilled from his eyes. His head tipped back, his mouth open as he whimpered loudly, his voice breaking as he cried out, “I’m your good boy! Yes, I’m your good boy! Always for you!”

You smiled, brushing your hand over his chest as you eased off of him. “That’s right,” you murmured, watching him tremble beneath you. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. His chest was still heaving, his hair sticking to his damp forehead as he blinked up at you.

“Are you— are you gonna take the handcuffs off now?” he asked, his voice hoarse and trembling.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you stood and stretched. “Oh, I don’t think so,” you said, your tone light and teasing. "You’re staying just like that for a while.”

Before he could protest, you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him cuffed, breathless, and utterly wrecked as he stared at the ceiling, the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears.

[birdofdawning]

Okay, that is not the only moment I remember from that film. The other moment I remember is when the aunt has just been amazing and repeatedly saved her shitty nephews, and she says something like "Okay, will you trust me now, and come with me?" And then Chris Pratt drives up in his big car — and bear in mind that he has done nothing so far as the nephews are concerned, they've never met him — and they point at him and say "No but we'll go with him". It was emotionally and narratively undeserved and more than a little bewildering. The aunt's heroism was immediately discounted because (I assume) Pratt has broad shoulders.

It was like there was some cinematic shorthand here that the movie expected me to have. And I did not have it, so I found the whole thing jarring and weird.

The Jurassic Park movies have always been overtly shilling for the hetnorm nuclear family, and I expected that, but this felt jarringly misogynistic. And so did the bit with Katie McGrath.

Anyway, that's bugged me since I saw it.

[gotta-winwin]

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special teaser

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air. 

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

🐻‍❄️ release date: christmas day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ i just know i'm going to have sm fun writing this cuz the dynamic is so interesting! its already giving christmas romcom vibes and omg you guys are not ready.

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003: 

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground. 

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?” 

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised. 

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word. 

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.” 

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.” 

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.” 

--

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met. 

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.” 

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene. 

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister. 

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

[keikikait]

ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.4k

summary: rafe gives you an ultimatum, and in the setting sun, you see another

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, kook!reader & kook!rafe, suggestive but no outright smut, ultimatums, jj is alive, arguing, not proofread

a note: i'm sorry this is late!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Were you being punished by your love for him?

You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.

You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.

You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you. 

You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.

You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.

Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.

You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.

The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”

You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.

Sofia must’ve been here earlier.

You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”

He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.

You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”

“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”

Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”

“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”

What the fuck? “Excuse me?”

He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny.” You say.

It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”

“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.

Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.

He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.

“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”

“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”

Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”

“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.

“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”

“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”

He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.

He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.

He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”

“I wish I never did.” You say.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.

Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”

“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”

He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.

“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.

“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”

“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”

Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”

It’ll pass.

It’ll pass.

It will never pass, will it?

You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”

He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”

“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.

He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”

You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.

He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”

You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”

“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”

You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt. 

“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”

Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”

You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.

The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.

You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.

He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”

You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.

He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.

“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”

“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”

You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”

He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”

“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”

He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”

You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”

He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”

“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”

“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”

You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.

But they weren’t.

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”

“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse. 

His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.

Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.

“What?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer. 

His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly. 

He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do. 

His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.

He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.

Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.

He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”

You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this. 

You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

He feels relieved. That’s good. 

He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice. 

You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The Outer Banks is truly paradise on Earth.

Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.

You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.

It’s peaceful.

Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.

You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.

JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.

JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”

“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.

“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”

You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”

He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”

You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”

He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Handsome.” You add.

He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.

You smile at him again, looking back over the water.

JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind. 

He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.

You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part three?

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @maybanksgirl69, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish, @user381963, @monkey-d-juliana, @ursogorgeous1313, @drewstarkeysstuff, @ts1mp0ne, @kayreblogs, @rafeycameronsgf, @lulbabes, @karmasloverrr, @greyswaren, @tini5, @witchmoon10, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @arivh, @devils-blackrose, @goldsainz, @vonhoe, @exhaustedbutelated, @enjoymyloves, @rinasauruss, @danikasthings, @danicl25, @outlawedmando, @lucifersie, @wtfisastiles (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

[zvdvdlvr]

‘mama’ + Spencer Reid

Author’s note: This gif made me think of single dad!Spencer for some reason.

     “Whaddaya got, little love?” You ask Louisa as she runs over to where you were laying with Spencer on the couch. Spencer draws random equations and shapes on your back (it soothes you even though you don’t actually know what he’s tracing) as the television plays the movie ‘Interstellar’ quietly- a favorite of yours.

     Louisa brandishes a mildly crinkled paper and shoces it into your faces. “I drew us!” She points to a tall stick figure with a brown curly mop for hair, saying: “That’s you, daddy.” She points to the littlest stick figure on the paper with black lines (arms) connecting to the end of Soencer’s black line arm on the paper to another adult sized stick figure labeled ‘Mommy’. 

     “That’s me,” Louisa informs the two of you solemnly as she points to the littlest figure. She has her dad’s curly brown hair in the picture.

     You hold your breath. You had been dating Spencer for almost a year now. Louisa was his perfect baby girl from a pregnancy with a woman he’d gotten to comfortable with. The thing was, Louisa hadn’t called you ‘mom’ yet, always sticking with y/n/n- something she started saying after hearing Spencer call you that once. Truthfully, you were fine with little Lou calling you by your name. Even though she didn’t know her real mommy, you didn’t want to force her to call you mom. It was a whole mess of emotions, really, but you wanted Louisa to feel comfortable calling you her mother instead of feeling obligated.

     So when she did point at the smiling stick figure with (your colored hair) and a big smile and say, “That’s you, mama!” you felt your heart swell.

     “That’s beautiful, Lou,” you told her with a shaking voice. You reached over and brushed a curl behind her hair.

     Spencer felt a similar surge in his chest as he watched his little girl smile brightly at her ‘mama’. “Go put it on the fridge,” he told her. “Then come back and snuggle with us.”

     You waited until Louisa left the room to look up at Spencer with teary eyes. “Did you-? Are you-? I love that girl so much,” you whispered to him as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your nose into is chest. “She called me mama, Spence. You heard it right?”

     Spencer’s large hands came to settle on your waist. “I heard it, angel, I heard it. She was actually calling you that the other day.” At your disbelieving gasp, he laughed. “She said, ‘Daddy, is mama going to have dinner with us again?’ and I asked her who mama was and she rolls her eyes and goes ��y/n, daddy. Who else?’”

     An embarrassingly tearful laugh escapes you. “I’m going to cry,” you state. 

     “You already are,” Spencer points out, making you sigh exasperatedly. “I’m just saying that you are!”

     “Louisa! Daddy’s being mean to me!” You shout loudly, hearing loud shrieks of laughter followed by giggling. “Hurry up so we can tickle him!”

     “Don’t be mean to mama, daddy!” Louisa screams as she barrels into the room. She takes a flying leap and you catch her in your arms. “You said the being mean is bad,” reprimanded the little girl. 

     You could see Spencer trying not to laugh as Louisa wags her finger at him. “I didn’t do anything, Lou-girl!”

     “Don’t listen to him, Louisa! He was saying how mama smelled bad!” You tell her, holding her close in your arms. “I think we should tickle him, Lou…”

     The little girl squirms in your arms as she giggles deviously. “I think we should tickle you, daddy,” she says. You don’t have a moment to think before she flies out of your arms and starts jabbing her fingers into Spencer’s torso.

     You almost fall backwords with laughter as Louisa immediately is rendered immobile when Spencer retaliates. The brown-haired, laughing blurs in fromt of you are your whole world and you couldn’t be more grateful for moments like these.

[sapphic-kpop-fics]

i miss you (Park Jihyo x Reader)

Angst with happy ending , smut

Was going to post this yesterday but I got sick again (or well I got worse after I felt better) but here we are! That being said I wrote this in a sick ish blur so if it’s not good I’m so sorry it was a fever dream writing it.

Your girlfriend Jihyo wasn’t always distant, even with her busy schedule of performances and recordings she still found a way to make time for you, more time than she had probably but then her solo debut came around and that changed.

Missed texts, calls, dinners, pretty much everything was met with a “I’m sorry baby, practice is running late”. She left the house before you woke up, and got home after you were in bed most days, though she was attentive and caring the few times you see each other, constant affection as usual.

Tonight was no different than the last how ever many, it was seven in the evening and you had cooked dinner for the two of you as she had promised she would be home in time and she was so stressed, it’s the least you can do for the love of your life.

Of course you trusted her words when she said she’d be on time, even if that was the naive thing to do, but now she was an hour late than she agreed to and you were sat on your couch drinking the wine that was meant for dinner. Then you get a phone call.

*Incoming call*

Hyo❤️‍🔥

You sit up fast, placing your wine glass on the coffee table before answering.

“Hyo, is everything okay?” You answer, “where are you?”

“Hey baby.” She starts, you can tell it’s not good news from her tone, the way she putting fake happiness in her voice.

“You’re not coming, are you?”, Disappointments laced every one of your words.

“I’m sorry love, they want to extend rehearsal for a couple hours.” You can hear the guilt seeping into her apology, “I have to stay since it’s you know my song, so I’ll have to miss dinner and I’ll be back late.”

You let out an amused huff, figures, how could you think tonight was any different than usual.

“Right.” You pause, looking at the made dinner on the table that is now cold and her wine glass that is still full, a couple candles scattered around, flowers sitting in the center waiting to be gifted to Jihyo,tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’m really sor-“

“It’s fine. Really.” Your voice breaks slightly, almost unnoticeable except for the fact that Jihyo knows every little thing about you especially when you’re not okay.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Jihyo it’s okay, I’ll see you later.”

She knew it wasn’t okay, from your shaky voice to the fact that you called her “Jihyo” instead of “Hyo” or some other sweet pet name but she decided not to push while in front her band members.

“Okay, I love you-“

Jihyo can barely get the words out before you hang up, teary eyed glancing once again at the set dinner table with full plates, the sink with dishes from your couple hours of cooking.

Deciding to leave everything where it is, you head back to the couch and pick the wine glass up once again, sitting there until your girlfriend got home which was about three hours later.

You hear the door unlock and close, her keys being thrown onto the table by the door, and her heavy bag hitting the floor before she walks into the living room you’re in. She finds you sitting, watching some movie or more so dissociating while staring at the screen, empty wine glass in hand with the bottle on the table not empty but close to it.

“Baby..” she says, it’s quiet like she’s scared.

You don’t answer you just look at her, eyes watery and red from crying, tears stained your shirt.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.”

No answer again.

“Let me make it up to you.”

The only noise you make is a little chuckle, a familiar promise of her making it up to you that she has been making for weeks but never followed through.

“Did you eat?” She asks, quieter than before if possible.

“Does it look like I did?” You bitterly ask while waving your hand at the dinner table in the other room.

Jihyo’s eyes follow your hand, seeing the full untouched plates with a full wine glass, then she see the flowers and candles which causes her eyes to fill with guilty tears.

“Oh..” it comes out as a choked whisper, “I’m so sorry.” She finally walks over to you, getting on her knees in front of you and placing her hands on your knees, “I really wanted to be here, but rehearsal-“

She can’t finish her sentence before you’re pushing her hands off of you and standing up to go into the dining room.

“Can you stop making excuses Jihyo?” It comes out louder than expected, as you speak you start picking up the plates to throw the food away but she puts a hand on your wrist before you can get to the trash can.

“Don’t throw it out.”

“Really? You’re going to eat the dinner I made 5 hours ago? now?”

“Maybe, if it makes you feel better.” Jihyo can feel herself getting irritated after the long day of rehearsal, she knows she shouldn’t be seeing as she’s the one hurting you.

“I don’t think it will.” Before you throw the plates in the trash, admittedly harder than necessary, the both of them shattering when they land.

“Hey! can we just talk? Instead of throwing things” she says exasperated at the new angry behavior of yours.

“Jihyo, I’ve been wanting to talk. For weeks. And you were nowhere to be found.”

“I’ve been here every night.”

“Yeah when I’m already asleep. And then you leave before I even wake up. When should I talk to you during those times? Huh?”

“Baby you know how my job is, the schedules-“

“Yeah i do. And I know i agreed to dealing with it but… I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You do know me, I’m the same person as I’ve always been.”

“No, Jihyo, you’re not.” A pause. “When’s the last time we went on a date?” Tears filled your eyes again.

“I-I don’t know, a week ago?” She stuttered, taken aback by the sudden questioning.

“3. 3 weeks ago. When’s the last time you ate a dinner I made you while it was still hot?”

“I- I don’t know.” She looks at the ground in shame.

“Exactly.” You try walking to the door.

“W-“

“No. I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.” Turning back to face her.

“Please, baby. Let’s talk about this.” She goes to grab your hands which you quickly pull away as you walk in the other direction, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Go ahead. You have 5 minutes.”

“Wh- are you serious? 5 minutes?“ The shock leaves her face as she sees the serious look on your face, “I know I’ve been distant, and truly I am so sorry. I know my job isn’t an excuse but you have to understand I can’t exactly say no to staying longer or canceling schedules.”

“That’s not ev- the problem is that when you don’t have a schedule you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Because I’m tired, y/n. It’s exhausting sometimes to do what I do.”

“Too tired for me?”

“That’s not what i meant.”

There’s silence as you look as her, contemplating your next words.

“Maybe we should break up.”

“Wh- what? N-no.” Panic fills Jihyo as you speak, nausea taking over her body.

“Hyo, I don’t know if I can do this anymore, barely seeing you when you have a comeback and when you don’t, you’re on tour.”

“But-“

“You’re losing me Jihyo. You being gone all the time, it hurts. I just want you to be around more but you can’t do that.”

“I’ll do better. I’ll make them cancel some rehearsal days, bring you on tour with me, anything. I mean I’ll even take a hiatus.”

“You’d do that?”

“If it meant keeping you.” She was genuine, in all the years you’d known her you had grown to distinguish when she wasn’t being truthful, “Please, give me another chance.” She grabs your hands, this time slowly but you don’t pull away this time which ignites a hope in Jihyo.

“Fine. Maybe not a hiatus but-“

She cuts you off with a kiss, hands going to your face, it was soft and sweet, her love being translated through it.

“I love you.” Her eyes staring into yours, hands still on your cheeks, “I’ll do better. As a matter of fact, I’m going take tomorrow off.”

“Can you even do that?” You ask shocked, but a smile returns to your face.

“I mean, I am the idol, what are they gonna do without me? And they can’t fire me, I’m too valuable.”

You push her away playfully at the last part but she’s quick to grab your hands and pull you into her.

“How can i make it up to you?”

“Well, in general a lot, but just tonight? You can start by doing the dishes and then maybe joining me in the bedroom?” Your eyes are mischievous and suggestive as you look at her.

“Can’t we just skip to the bedroom part?” She pouts as she looks at the dishes in the sink and on the stove from the day.

“If you don’t do them, there will be no bedroom part.” You answer as she push her off you and towards the sink.

“Come onnnn”

You keep walking as she pouts heading to your shared room, deciding on skin care and changing to waste the time.

As you’re standing in front of your dresser, only wearing a pair of sweatpants, a voice from behind you appears.

“I think putting on clothes is kinda pointless.” Jihyo rasps out, as you meet her eyes in the mirror on your dresser they’re dark with blown pupils and staring directly at your bare chest.

“I have eyes you know.” At which she shifts her gaze up to make eye contact, a playful smirk on her face. But you do slide your sweatpants off onto the floor causing your girlfriend to smile.

“And I love those too.” She says walking behind you to wrap her arms around your waist, head on your shoulder with her mouth next to your ear, “but.. I’ve just missed touching you so much.” You feel her lips press into your neck and leaving a few marks as her hands glide up to squeeze your chest, fingers pinching your nipples, lips moving down to your shoulder before making eye contact with you, “Why don’t you go lay down for me pretty girl?” A soft dominance wafting off of her, you of course follow her orders immediately laying on the bed and spreading your legs slightly to show the growing wet spot on your underwear. Jihyo just stands at the end of the bed, staring at you with her lower lip between her teeth, eyes slowly moving from your face down your body almost lost in the sight of you, a minute passes before you speak.

“…Hyo?”

“Hm.”

“Are you going to stop staring and join me or?”

A blush spreads across her face before a smirk takes over.

“Sorry for admiring my absolutely gorgeous girlfriend.” She teases as she finally gets on the bed and climbs up to hover over you, hers eyes shining with love and once again staring you down as she studied your face for the millionth time in your relationship. You try interrupting her stares by leaning in to kiss her but she playfully pulls away, “I’m not done looking.” A hand goes to rest on your cheek.

“Hyo, I love you so much, but if you don’t touch me after today then I’m making you sleep outside.”

“Going to kick me out of my own house that I pay for?” She smiles but that goes away when she sees the quirk of your eyebrow that tells her you’re dead serious, causing her to capture your lips in a passionate kiss her tongue swiping at your lips begging to be let in which you part your lips letting her tangle her tongue with yours before pulling away and biting your bottom lip bring it with her before letting it go saliva still connecting you and looking at you, eyes darker than before.

She moves her lips to your jaw leaving light kisses, moving to your neck where she starts leaving marks. One hand squeezing your thigh, the other sliding from your hip to your chest.

“Hyo.” You whimper out.

“I know baby, let me take care of you.”

The kisses and marks move down to your collarbones and chest, she wraps her lips around your nipple while her hand attended the other one. After your chest is littered in purple marks and little bites her hand goes to your underwear feeling the wetness and rubbing you through the fabric making you gasp and rut up into her.

“So needy. You’re so wet baby, miss me that bad?”

“Please.”

Her kissing continues down your stomach until she reaches the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly making sure to leave a feathery kiss on every inch of new skin that showed, worshiping your body with her loving kisses. Reaching your knees she finally pulls your underwear all the way down and throws them to the floor, returning to her original place her face hovering over yours and you can feel the light touch of her lips on yours as she speaks again.

“I’m going to use my fingers first so I can see how much you missed me, okay?”

“Whatever you want.”

Her hand that rested on your thigh moved to your center, rubbing small circles at first. Small whimpers come out of your mouth as you close your eyes, truthfully you hadn’t really had sex that wasn’t a quickie in a green room for a performance in weeks so even her light touch had you close to finishing.

“Wait.” You say which causes her to stop and worry, “You know, you’re fully clothed…”

“Uh huh..” she says a smile on her lips, her fingers going back to making small circles on your clit now that she knows you’re not uncomfortable.

“And I am not. I don’t think that’s fair.” You can barely talk as she moves her fingers, but you get out the words even if they’re shaky. You didn’t want to tell her the real reason you wanted her clothes off is because you loved the sight of your nail marks and scratches on her back the next morning, you would trace them with your fingers as she laid down or in the shower.

Jihyo makes a show of sitting up on her heels and pulling her baggy shirt over her head, too slowly you think, her abs showing from her countless hours of rehearsals and her earlier workout. Then she unclips her bra and takes it off just as slowly, she leaves her sweatpants on though as she settles herself back, two fingers immediately going back to where they were but soon slid down to enter you agonizingly slow and were unmoving when fully inside, her thumb working circles on your clit.

“Don’t tease” Your voice is breathless and almost a whimper as you look at her heavy lidded eyes, “please.”

“Anything you want baby.” Her fingers move inside you as she speaks, the pace going from 0-100 almost instantly, after all she did promise to make up for her behavior so who was she to deny you, your playful threat of leaving her in the driveway for the night for not listening to you still present in her mind.

“Fuck.”

“Feel good pretty girl?” Her lips brush on your ear, and her warm breath causes shivers down your spine.

“So good.” It’s more of a whine than actual words.

The feeling of her fingers inside of you is dizzying, vision a bit blurred, all of your thoughts consumed by her.

“You’re doing so good. Taking my fingers so well.”

The words alone makes you tighten around her, wetness dripping onto the sheet below. You thought you were already close but then she angles her fingers up just right and it feels like you’re on fire, you hands grip her back nails digging into her skin dragging down to her waist where you pull her closer to you if possible.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go baby. You deserve it.” She whispers before kissing you but pulls away as you reach your orgasm, she just can’t miss the noises you make for her.

Your vision is white as you reach your peak, back arching off the bed and into your girlfriend’s chest, nails digging into her skin again as you moan loud enough for the whole world to hear. Jihyo’s fingers don’t stop moving inside you until you whine and put your hand on her wrist. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until she speaks again.

“Breathe baby.” A light chuckle falling from her lips while she strokes your cheek with her thumb, “are you okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Actually I think you might have to do a redo on that apology.”

“Oh yeah?” Jihyo’s eyes shined as she looked down at you

“Mm.”

“I think I can do that.” Before she retreats underneath the blanket with her head between your thighs.

She ended up apologizing about 3 more times that night before you were satisfied, but Jihyo didn’t mind as long as she had her girl.

[lily-onher-grave]

okay okay okay thoughts/excited ramblings about the wicked movie under the cut bc i've seen it and now i'm insane about it again

let's be real it's kinda hard to fumble the opening number of a musical especially when that opening number is no one mourns the wicked and yet i was still absolutely blown away it was SO GOOD

the lil munchkins running, the singing in the streets, the posters of the witch (side note all the artwork was insanely good and just added so much to the style of oz i feel like) it was all so awesome

NOMTW becomes so sinister and they nailed it

obligatory emotional babbling about glinda standing alone in the crowd as everyone sings 'the wicked's lives are lonely'

before i left for the theater i was like 'take your bets on if i'll cry' and my roommate and i agreed that yeah obviously i would. but what i didn't expect is for ariana's sad face to knock me out in five minutes flat. i was done for

the effigy. holy shit. and handing the torch to glinda. i want to go see the whole thing again just so i can rewatch that scene. my heart still hurts

(also nanny! sort of not really. but i liked the childhood scenes i liked that elphaba had one (1) good thing in her life before shiz)

SHIZ okay shiz honestly shiz was the thing i was most excited for bc c'mon, we don't write about our gothic magic school all the time in fic for nothing. and honestly it was so good. the shots of the whole castle! the library design! the balcony moments and the stairways and just like the layers of architecture and the way morrible could kind of be anywhere at any time. the way it felt so grand and yet so small at the same time. idk man the vibes were good and the set was beautiful

glinda arriving by boat was magical that's all

the way everything dillamond had was tailored to him was fantastic it was so good

actually i want to shout out the library set design again and how it tied into the clockwork theme that never gets fully called out even in the musical but it's still so good

where's my time dragon clock tho

also back up the scene where elphaba loses her temper in the courtyard--when she breaks the relief of the wizard, there's old artwork of Animals behind it and i gasped out loud when i saw it

and that was the first moment i thought 'this is brilliant but i still want an hbo dark fantasy political drama tv show based on the book'

speaking of the dark fantasy political drama tv shows, the Animal meeting!! i'm so glad they put more stuff like that in there

actually as a whole the movie felt more grounded and less comedic than the musical. i think they did a fantastic job of keeping the magic and silliness and charm and wonder of the show while still adding those extra bits of drama and dire circumstances

anyway gelphie fic prank wars trope is officially canon great work everybody handshakes all around. i was cackling (silently. i promise i'm a respectful moviegoer)

the ozdust ballroom being illegal makes so much sense. it being underwater was fucking cool. boq and nessa were actually really great and i usually don't care about them at all during this scene

also i love love love nessa and i cannot wait to see more of her. but showing her multiple times on the sidelines when elphie was being humiliated was such a good choice. the tension between nessa obviously caring for her sister yet always caring for herself more is so delicious and i always want to see it fleshed out more, and i think they did such a good job with her? her and elphaba have sweet moments which i love, and her wanting to be independent and only elphaba really understanding that is so so good. and having her just watching elphaba for so long before finally saying she can't watch. god i can't wait to see her be desperate and selfish and cold in act 2, it's gonna be so good

side note boq also looking upset by elphie being bullied. i miss my brotp man

but let's talk about what's most important: the gelphie dance. because oh my god i started crying all over again. so did elphaba. and glinda wiping her tears i'm dying i've died oh my god

i always get a little bit surprised when glinda seems more head over heels than elphaba. idk why. but ariana's glinda is absolutely more head over heels than cynthia's elphaba and i loved it

(they just. freaking LEFT the party. just zipped out of there as soon as they hugged. glinda was like hmmm i just realized some things and grabbed elphaba's hand and ran off while the night was young. and fiyero stared after them knowing that he stood no chance whatsoever)

also i'm like 72% sure the guys sitting next to me were a couple? and they both cried during the gelphie dance too and it was a very unexpected but very funny moment of solidarity

i say ariana's glinda is more head over heels and i stand by it but elphaba's fond little smile when glinda was pouting about sharing secrets almost made me start sobbing again they're so GOOD they're so CUTE and she is SO heart eyes for glinda immediately!!!

i need to be sedated i swear

popular was adorable 10/10 no notes absolutely nailed it i loved every second

also glinda sitting next to elphaba in class now. my heart <3

after dillamond gets hauled away (again with this being more violent and dark and those moments of drama coming through more in the movie i loveeee) glinda doesn't sit down until elphaba does

also they had several little moments of elphaba looking to glinda and glinda either shaking her head or nodding. they've been friends for 2 days and they're already having silent conversations i love them <3

the poppy spell? was sick as hell????

another seeing of wicked, another complete sense of bafflement as to why fiyero is there

i say this jokingly but the fiyero and elphaba romance really does feel like a product of the early 2000s especially now that it's on screen rather than on stage. idk maybe that's just the lesbian in me talking though

the train design is also sick but we knew that from the trailers

okay look logically yes i knew idina and kristin would have cameos. but i'd been crying on and off and one short day's magic had already taken hold so they caught me completely off guard. it was great

the wizard stuff was really sweet. and while i was hoping for more time put toward shiz and stuff, i do think those moments did a great job of 1) showing how much elphaba just wants to be loved 2) foreshadowing the wizard being her father and 3) laying the groundwork for her briefly considering working with the wizard in act 2, which is a decision that never quiteee feels right in the show

i love that they put more lore into the grimmerie btw. very cool

the hot air balloon was random but fun. i wonder if it'll come up again in act 2

every time. every damn time glinda starts singing in defying gravity i just want someone to end it right there. glinda grabs the broom, it fades to black, and they both lived happily ever after

fuck

defying gravity taking place at sunset because it's at the end of their one short day of happiness

also UM morrible coming up and hugging glinda when she's crying. exquisite emotional manipulation i'm screaming

elphie! seeing! her! inner! child! i loved the baby elphie scenes even though i prefer creepy 'horrors' elphaba always. but seeing her come back was sooooo fucking good

elphaba only ever relying on herself, in the end

glinda's final 'i hope you're happy' took me out, as it always does, as it always should. and reaching out from the balcony? i'm sobbing again

morrible dragging glinda into the darkness while elphaba flies into the sun! someone fucking help me i'm already wrecked by these two

honestly my biggest complaint is that now i have to wait for part two, i want to see the rest nowwwww

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 10 - So Different | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.4k

Trent laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a storm he couldn’t quiet. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound jolting him momentarily out of his haze. Jack’s name lit up the screen, but Trent didn’t move to answer it. He couldn’t. The guilt was suffocating. Every time Jack called, every time Trent saw his name flash across his phone, it felt like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He couldn’t face him. Couldn’t lie to him. Couldn’t explain to his best friend that the reason he’d been distant wasn’t some random funk but the unbearable heartbreak of losing you. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. He was coming to realize, you were his person, his peace, the one he went to when everything else felt like too much. And now, you were gone, and Trent didn’t know how to function without you. Since that night, he’d gone completely off the grid. He showed up for training, went through the motions, and then went straight home. He couldn’t bring himself to see anyone, to pretend he was okay when he wasn’t. His chest ached constantly, a dull, throbbing pain that he didn’t know how to soothe. He thought about you constantly. The way you’d cried, the way your voice broke. The look in your eyes. It haunted him. He replayed it over and over, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Was it the secrecy? The guilt? The fear of what Jack and the others would think?

You hadn’t said, ‘Why don’t we just tell them?’ And so, he hadn’t. He’d been too afraid, too consumed by the what-ifs. But now, lying there in the quiet of his room, he wondered if things could have been different if he’d just had the courage to say, I love her. I don’t care what anyone thinks. His phone buzzed again, and he turned his head to look at it. Jack was calling again, and for a fleeting moment, Trent considered answering. But what would he say? How could he explain that he was grieving the loss of you, the girl he was never supposed to fall for but couldn’t help loving? He turned his face into the pillow, the tears coming unbidden. He missed you so much it hurt. He missed your laugh, your smile, the way you made him feel like the best version of himself. He missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms, the way your lips felt against his. He missed you. But he couldn’t have you. He’d made his choice that night, torn between his desire to console you, to pull you into his arms and make you stop crying, and the guilt and fear of Jack finding out. He’d walked away, and now, he was paying the price. Trent closed his eyes, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. He felt like he was losing both of you—you and Jack. He couldn’t talk to his best friend about it, couldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t even pick up the phone. He was trapped in his own guilt and heartbreak, unable to see a way out. Day in and day out, he lay there, caught in a trance, replaying every moment, every word, every touch. He didn’t know how to move forward without you, didn’t know if he even wanted to. All he knew was that he’d never felt this way before, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would again.

You weren’t fairing all that well yourself. You curled up on your bed, muffling your sobs into the pillow, hoping the sound wouldn’t carry through the walls. But Jack had already noticed. He’d been noticing for days—the way you avoided him, the lack of your usual energy, the way your eyes always looked on the verge of tears. Jack wasn’t one to pry, but this time, he couldn’t stay silent. You heard the knock at your door, a quiet but firm tap, tap, tap.

“Y/N?” Jack’s voice was soft, cautious. “Can I come in?” You froze, wiping your face quickly, though you knew it was pointless.

“Yeah,” you croaked, your voice betraying you. The door creaked open, and Jack stepped inside. His expression shifted instantly when he saw you, eyes red and swollen, clutching your pillow like a lifeline. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, taking it in.

“Come here, what’s gotten into you?” he asked finally, his voice gentle as he opened his arms. You hesitated, guilt twisting in your stomach, but the look on his face broke you. Slowly, you got up and walked into his embrace. The moment his arms wrapped around you, the tears came again, harder this time, like a dam breaking.Jack held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your back. “Hey, you’re okay,” he murmured. “Just breathe for me, yeah?” You tried to, but the sobs kept coming. After a long moment, Jack pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searched your face. “What’s going on, Y/N? Talk to me. Who’s got ya like this? Is fucking Josh again?” The question hit you like a truck. Who. Not what. He already knew this wasn’t about work or anything trivial. He knew it was someone. You shook your head, pulling away from his touch, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. 

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled. “I’m fine. Really.” Jack’s brows furrowed, his concern deepening. 

“Y/N, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I’m your brother. Just… tell me who it is, and I’ll sort them out.” He cooed with a sympathetic smik. You laughed weakly through the tears, the irony of his words hitting you. If only he knew.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Jack stepped closer, his hands gentle on your arms. 

“Why not? You know I’d do anything for you, right? Just tell me, and we’ll fix it together.” You shook your head more forcefully this time, the guilt washing over you in waves. You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him. Not when it was Trent. Not when it was his best friend. Not when it would ruin everything. Not when you had betrayed him. 

“I just can’t, Jack,” you said once over, your voice cracking as fresh tears streamed down your face. “I’ve already lost so much over this. You’ll be mad and I can’t lose you too.” Jack’s face softened, but he still looked confused, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle without all the pieces. 

“Y/N, you’re not gonna lose me,” he said firmly. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk it. Jack was all you had left, and if he knew the truth, you weren’t sure you’d survive the fallout.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stepping back toward the bed. “I just… I need to figure this out on my own.” Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he sighed and nodded, his hands falling to his sides. 

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But if you change your mind, I’m here, alright? Always.” You nodded, biting your lip to keep from breaking down again. When he finally left the room, closing the door behind him, the silence felt deafening. You sank back onto the bed, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. You made a decision then. You couldn’t keep doing this—to yourself, to Trent, to Jack. The guilt was eating you alive, and the secrecy was tearing everything apart. It was time to end it. For good.

The week of silence was unbearable. Days stretched into nights, with every moment consumed by guilt, longing, and the reality of what you had both built under Jack’s unsuspecting gaze. For so long, you’d tried to ignore the weight of it all, but now the cracks were too wide, the guilt too heavy. You couldn’t breathe. When you finally stood on Trent’s doorstep, your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You hadn’t texted or called; you’d just shown up, your emotions too raw for words. Trent opened the door, his brows furrowing in surprise when he saw you standing there. His hair was still damp from a shower, his face soft and unguarded. 

“Y/N?” he said, his voice laced with concern. “What are you—”

“We can’t do it anymore,” you interrupted, your voice trembling, already on the verge of tears. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” The words hit him like a blow to the chest. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Just..” He couldn’t even talk before he instinctively reached for you, pulling you into his arms. You collapsed against him, the weight of your words crashing down as sobs racked your body. His strong arms held you tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head as if he could shield you from the pain you were feeling. “Don’t say that,” he murmured into your hair, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t say that.” But you couldn’t stop. 

“I can’t keep lying to Jack,” you whispered against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “I can’t keep lying to myself. This… this isn’t right, T. It’s not right.” Desperation flickered in his eyes as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. 

“I know,” he admitted softly, his voice filled with sorrow. “I know it’s not fair to you. Or to him. But…” He trailed off, his words faltering under the weight of his emotions. The silence between you was heavy, the tension palpable. And then, as if drawn together by some unseen force, his lips found yours. The kiss was desperate, full of unspoken words and heartbreak. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured everything you couldn’t say into that moment. Before you knew it, the two of you were in his room, tangled in his sheets, your bodies pressed together as if trying to erase the distance that had grown between you. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a last-ditch effort to hold onto something slipping away. When it was over, the silence returned, heavier than before. You lay in his arms, your cheek pressed against his chest as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. He pressed a kiss to your hair, a soft hum escaping him. The tenderness in that simple gesture broke something inside you. You sniffled, tears slipping down your cheeks once more. 

“This has to be it,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Okay?” You whimpered.

“Okay,” he replied, his voice low and full of sadness. He tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “But Y/N… can you just stay though? Just for tonight?”  He meekly asked you, his tone desperate. Your breath hitched as his words hit you. 

“Trent…” You cautioned him already struggling to will your body away from his.

“I didn’t know it’d be our last night,” he continued, his voice trembling. “And I just… I just want to remember it right.” You nodded silently, your tears soaking into his skin. You didn’t have the strength to say no, not when he held you like that, not when you could feel his heart breaking beneath your hand.

“This isn’t right,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible. But Trent didn’t respond. He couldn’t. All he could do was hold you tighter, his silence speaking volumes. The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of goodbye hanging heavy in the air. You knew this was the end, but for now, in this fleeting moment, you allowed yourselves to pretend that it wasn’t.

The morning was heavy with unspoken words as you pulled your clothes on, trying to keep your composure. The air between you and Trent was thick, weighted with everything that had gone wrong and everything that still felt so heartbreakingly right. As you made your way toward the door, Trent followed, his steps slow and hesitant, like he was trying to draw out the moment. 

“Y/N, Stay,” he said quietly, his voice cracking just enough to break your resolve. “We can figure this out. Please.” You paused, your hand resting on the doorknob, your back turned to him. Tears threatened to spill again, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to cry anymore. You didn’t want to feel this ache that had embedded itself so deeply into your chest.

“Please don’t make this harder,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned to face him. The look on his face nearly destroyed you—his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and heartbreak, his hands hanging helplessly at his sides.

“I’m not trying to make it harder,” he said, taking a step closer. “I just—this, us—it means something to me. You mean something to me. I can’t…” His voice faltered, and he exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “I can’t let you go like this.” You shook your head, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“You’re saying that because we’re behind closed doors, T… but that’s not the problem.” He shut his eyes, his jaw tightening as if the words physically hurt him. You knew he wanted to say something, to fight back, to convince you that it didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together. But deep down, he knew you were right. As you reached for your bag, something poked you in the side, reminding you of what you’d brought with you. A lump formed in your throat as you pulled it out, the tattered book of poems looking smaller in your hands than it had when you first tucked it away.

“I forgot…” you started, your voice barely audible. “I want you to have this.” You extended the book toward him, and he hesitated for a moment before taking it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch sent a jolt through your body, one final reminder of what you were about to lose. “I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” you said, your voice breaking as fresh tears began to blur your vision. “You are the furthest thing from nothing to me. You are everything, in fact. You are it all, T.” His hands shook slightly as he took the book. 

“Please don’t do this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. When he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with a pain so raw it made your chest tighten. “Don’t go. I’m begging you.” You couldn’t stop the tears now, and they fell freely as you took a step back, creating the distance you knew you needed to survive this. 

“I have to,” you choked out. His hand clenched around the book, holding it close to his chest like it was the only piece of you he’d have left.  Trent’s fingers trembled as he turned the fragile pages of the book, the faint scent of aged paper filling the air. It didn’t take long until he started to notice the black ink penned in a handwriting he’d only seen a number of times in birthday cards. His head was almost hurting because he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t yours. His eyes scanned the handwritten notes in the margins, each word was a delicate imprint of your mum’s love and care, left behind like breadcrumbs leading back to her. The book flopped open on it’s own by its worn seam to a page you’d pressed the flower he’d given you the other week. His heart hurt more than his head at that moment. And then he saw it—why you’d marked the page - a line your mum had circled and underlined, her handwriting curling beside it with a note that seemed to reach through time:

'Even though we never said it to each other - We knew'

'Always reminds me of you and TAA—tell him one day, okay?'

His breath caught, his chest tightening as though the air had been stolen from the room. His grip on the book wavered, his fingers brushing against the daisy you had carefully pressed between the pages, a small but profound reminder of the park, of the simple, unguarded moments you shared. The lump in his throat was unbearable as he felt the weight of everything—the love, the grief, the guilt—all crashing down at once. 

“I know this didn’t work, but…” You stood there, knowing he’d read it, barely holding it together, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to speak. 

“Stop,” Trent cut you off, his voice shaky but insistent, the emotion barely contained. His movements were deliberate as he placed the book down on the counter, as if it were sacred. Then, with no hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like letting go would shatter him completely. “We’re not doing this,” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking. “We’re not nothing. I know we’re not. You know we’re not… She knew we weren’t. Y/N please.” The conviction in his words only made the ache in your chest swell. You buried your face in his chest, tears spilling freely now, soaking into his shirt. 

“I’m so scared, Trent,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You felt like in a way you’d disappoint your mum in giving up this but it was terrifying to love him. He was no longer a school boy, he was larger than life. “I’m so scared I’m just the girl of the season to you. That I’ll lose you, Jack, everyone. I can’t do this again. I can’t…” You confessed amidst your tears. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you even closer. 

“You’re not,” he whispered fiercely, the words shaking with emotion. “You’re not the girl of the season. You’ve been the girl of every season. My only season. You’ve been every single one.” His words cracked something deep inside you, but they didn’t erase the fear. You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, your tears making the world blur around you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking on every syllable.  “I don’t know how to keep everyone happy and not lose you at the same time. I feel like I’m losing everything.” His hands came to rest on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as his forehead gently touched yours. His voice softened, but it carried an unshakable strength. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a lifeline. “We don’t have to have all the answers now. Just stay with me, baby. We can sort this.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shook your head, the weight of the situation suffocating you. 

“This isn’t right,” you whimpered, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “None of this is right.”

“Stay,” he begged softly, his voice raw and unguarded. “Please don’t leave me like this.” You sobbed into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in the storm of your emotions. His grip on you tightened, his own tears threatening to spill as he pressed a desperate kiss to your hair. You nodded through your sobs, too broken to speak, your hands clutching at him like he was your last tether to hope. But even as you let yourself sink into the safety of his arms, the doubts lingered, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you. The unsaid love was there, undeniable and unrelenting, but so was the pain, and neither of you knew how to make it stop. Trent looked at the book carefully, his fingers trembling as he reached towards it with one hand. a centimeter of the daisy still delicately pressed inside sticking out. His eyes lingered on it for a moment before turning to you, his gaze steady despite the rawness between you both. “Keep this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute as he picked it up. “She left more in there than an annotation about me.” He smiled sympathetically at you. He’d glanced at the pages before his name appeared, and although it was brief he understood your mum purposefully left this book for you. It was a way for her to communicate with you, to support you through situations you might face after she was gone. “You keep all the other stuff. I don’t need any more if I know she was on board because I’m not going anywhere… that’s all I needed to know.” His certainty was like a balm against the ache in your chest, but the weight of everything still loomed heavy in your mind. You shook your head slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“But if this doesn’t work… T, I can’t” you started, the fear in your words palpable. Trent stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, catching a stray tear. 

“Then I’ll still be here,” he told you firmly, his voice tinged with quiet determination. “I just told you. I'm not leaving.” His words wrapped around your heart, pulling at every fragile piece of you. 

“But how can you be so sure?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you searched his eyes for answers. “I didn’t mean for this to be a guilt trip. I just wanted you to know…” You babbled as your tears ran down your cheeks. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice steady and calm. 

“It’s not… And… I know… because you’re it for me. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ll try, yeah?” You nodded sheepishly, your heart warring with your fears, but his certainty felt like a light in the darkness. “Gonna give it a try, hmm?” he asked softly, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a tender kiss. This time, your nod was more sure, a small smile breaking through the tears. 

“Okay,” you murmured. And in that moment, with the weight of the book in his hands and the promise hanging between you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward.

The next morning, the doorbell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Jack had already left for work, leaving you to shuffle to the door, still in your pajamas. You opened it to find not one but four massive flower arrangements towering in front of you. You blinked, confused, as the delivery man smiled politely and gestured for you to sign.

“Someone really likes you,” he remarked, handing you a small card after you’d awkwardly squeezed the arrangements inside. The arrangements were stunning—each one so different. One was a soft white and cream, delicate and elegant. Another burned bright with orangey-red hues, vibrant and warm. The third was lush with deep greens, earthy and grounding, and the last shimmered in an unexpected blue, rare and calming. You stood there for a moment, staring at the kaleidoscope of colors, trying to piece it together. Then you opened the card.

'To the girl I’ve let wait too many seasons—will you please let me take you out for a proper date?'

You laughed through your tears, the emotions of the past weeks bubbling over at once. The note continued, listing specific details about when and where he wanted to meet you, but you could barely read through the happy blur in your eyes. It was so him, so thoughtful, and yet so immediate—like he couldn’t stand another second without making his words from the night before a reality. The concept of girl of the season really was about his football season but the fact that flowers went beyond that. It was one for each season of the year; spring, summer, autumn, and winter. All there to signify, you were more than just a football season to him and he wanted you to know that. You held the card to your chest, tears still slipping down your cheeks as giggles broke through. He had acted quickly, proving he meant every word, every promise. Trent was asking, not waiting. Not hiding. This time, he was yours, out loud, in full color. And all you could think was… finally.

When Trent typed your address into his phone to send the delivery, his chest tightened with a familiar pang of guilt. It wasn’t just your address—it was Jack’s too. That nagging feeling of betrayal washed over him as his thumb hovered above the screen, memories from years ago creeping back unbidden. He could still hear Jack’s voice, clear as day, as if it were happening all over again. They were in Jack’s room, sprawled out after school, the usual banter bouncing around the group. A newer guy to their circle, loud and brash, had just moved to town and had made an offhand remark about you after seeing a picture on Jack’s phone.

“Is this your sister, mate? Fuck off! She’s well fit,” the guy had said, smirking. It wasn’t even a serious comment, but Jack’s reaction was immediate and sharp.

“Oi, Off-limits,” Jack had snapped, his tone firm and brooking no argument. He glanced around the room then, making sure everyone understood. “If that wasn’t already clear, no one moves to Y/N.” There was a beat of awkward silence before Noah, always the one to push a joke too far, broke it. 

“Come on, mate! What if she likes us? Girls move to me! What if she moves to me, huh?” He teased. Jack didn’t even crack a smile. 

“Nah. If she has feelings for ya, too bad.” Trent had sat quietly on the edge of the bed, his face carefully neutral, but the way Jack’s eyes flickered toward him didn’t go unnoticed. It was subtle, just a moment, but it lingered. Jack’s expression softened briefly before he looked away.

“Maybe…” Jack muttered under his breath, something unsaid hanging heavy in the room. But then, just as quickly, he turned back to Noah, snapping back into his usual banter. “But she’s not interested in you, mate. You’re a charity case.” The rest of the room burst into laughter, and the moment was gone, buried under their usual teasing. But Trent hadn’t laughed. He had felt something then, a pang of disappointment mixed with the quiet realization that Jack knew. Maybe Jack didn’t know the extent of it, but he’d always known there was something unspoken between you and Trent. And now here Trent was, years later, actively crossing the line Jack had drawn so clearly. He wasn’t a clueless teenager anymore, and the weight of what he was doing—and who he was risking—felt heavier than ever. But then his thoughts shifted to you. The way you’d looked at him the night before, your voice shaking as you’d told him he was everything, even when you thought you were losing him. That was enough to push the guilt aside, if only for a moment.

You called Layla that morning from your bedroom, your voice still thick with emotion but tinged with something lighter-relief, excitement, maybe even disbelief.

"When I tell you I was sobbing," you started, gripping the the edge of your dresser as you tried to steady your voice. "I was a mess, Layla. But then —he literally sent me flowers today. Like four arrangements. Four!" You explained. Layla didn't even pause before diving in, her tone pitched halfway between glee and exasperation.

"Finally! I've been screaming 'about time' since the first time you finally hooked up! That man's been fucking you for ages and he's just now asking you on a date?" She fell into giggles. You couldn't help but laugh, your cheeks heating even as you rolled your eyes.

"Layla! Can we not put it like that?" You tried to fight back a laugh.

"But I'm right!" she shot back. "It's been this whole dramatic saga of hiding and sneaking and you ending up crying at all hours because he's scared. And finally, he's putting it out there. I'm sorry, but I'm thrilled." You sighed, glancing at the arrangements. 

"It feels... so different this time. He said he wants to do it right. He called me the girl of every season." Your voice cracked on the last few words, the weight of everything hitting you all over again. Layla softened instantly. 

"Oh, babe. That's what you've wanted to hear, yeah? That he's sure. That he's not just scared of what Jack and the boys think but ready to fight for you." She cooed. You nodded even though she couldn't see you, tears pooling in your eyes. 

"It's just...so much. I feel like I'm still holding my breath. Like, what if it's too good to be true?" You asked her sheepishly. 

"Then let him prove it's not," Layla said firmly. "You've already been through the worst of it. Let him show you he's ready for the best of it." You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but...l think he is. Is that bad?” You asked her hesitantly hoping she’d almost lie to you if she felt otherwise. But Layla answered honestly, always. 

"No. This is good, Y/N, I can feel it," she said. "I''m so happy for you. Now we just let him sweep you off your feet properly. And wear something hot. You deserve to make him sweat." She told you very matter of fact and your mind began to work in overdrive after that imagining what you possibly had in your wardrobe that was fit for the occasion of all occasions; your first proper date with your brother’s best friend.

When the evening came, getting ready for the date felt surreal. You’d spent so long imagining this moment, and now that it was happening, the weight of it settled over you like a heavy, fluttering blanket. The mirror reflected your carefully chosen outfit, but your nerves made you question everything—was it too much? Not enough? Layla’s voice echoed in your head: Make him sweat. When the doorbell rang, your heart lurched. Trent was at your house. For a date. You opened the door with a shy smile, and Trent’s reaction stole whatever breath you had left. 

Trent had stepped out of the car, his heart already thudding in his chest as he approached the front door. For a split second, he hesitated, the weight of everything—Jack, the years of denying his feelings, the risks—hitting him all at once. This was your house, but it was also Jack’s house, and the lines between those roles had always blurred in his mind. You weren’t supposed to be this person for him. You weren’t supposed to be his. But when the door opened, and you stepped out to greet him, all of that disappeared. Everything—Jack, the past, the unspoken boundaries—faded into nothing. All that was left was you. And you were breathtaking. He blinked, stunned, as his eyes drank you in. You were wearing a black Saint Laurent mini dress that clung to your figure in all the right ways, the fabric draping elegantly across your body. The deep V neckline hinted at so much but revealed just enough to keep it tasteful, leaving him completely undone. The simplicity of the dress only heightened how stunning you looked, and Trent couldn’t believe this was the same girl he used to see in oversized jumpers and trainers, lounging on Jack’s sofa. You didn’t look like Jack’s sister anymore. You didn’t even look like the girl he’d been secretly pining for all this time. You looked like his.

“Wow,” he finally managed, his voice low and a little hoarse. He shook his head, clearly taken aback as his eyes swept over you slowly. He couldn’t stop staring, his gaze trailing from your perfectly styled hair down to the way the dress skimmed your thighs, then back up to meet your eyes. “You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if trying to find the right words.  He didn’t even finish the thought, just stepped closer and brushed a hand down your arm as if grounding himself.

“I look…?” Your nerves melted a little at his touch, and you dared to tease him. He smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

“You look perfect. Unreal…”  He cooed. A shy smile crept across your lips as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, feeling the intensity of his gaze. Trent took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he reached for you.

 “You don’t look like…” He stopped himself, realizing how ridiculous it would sound to say, you don’t look like Jack’s sister right now. Instead, he smiled, his eyes softening as he leaned in closer. “You look like you. But more. If that makes sense.” Your smile widened, your cheeks flushing. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, trying to ease the tension that was crackling between you. But Trent didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. His eyes were too busy tracing the way the soft lighting from the porch framed your face, making your features glow. You weren’t just beautiful—you were magnetic. “Let’s go,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something more than affection—something closer to awe. 

“Hold my hand.” His words were so simple, but the warmth in them settled your nerves as you slipped your hand into his. His fingers gently brushing yours before intertwining, his grip reassuring. He gently tugged on your hand, pulling you toward him as he bent down to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment.  And as he led you to the car, his heart racing and his mind whirling, all Trent could think was how wrong he’d been to ever believe you were off limits. You weren’t just something he wanted anymore. You were something he couldn’t imagine letting go. As you walked toward the car waiting outside, the weight of the situation loomed again. You hesitated, beginning to voice your lingering fear. Your anxiety if you should even be holding his hand here in front of the house skyrocketing. 

“Are you…?” You began to speak but Trent didn’t let you finish. 

“Yeah, I’m really sure.” His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering as he glanced down at you. He traced his thumb along the back of your hand, his certainty radiating through his touch. The tension in your chest loosened, and you let out a soft hum of approval. 

“Okay.” You leaned in, kissing his shoulder as the two of you reached the car. Trent smiled down at you, opening the door with care. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real.

The restaurant’s ambiance was a perfect blend of understated elegance and intimacy. The flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood of your table, casting soft shadows that danced across Trent’s face. The low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter from other diners barely registered; your world felt narrowed to the man sitting across from you. Trent was watching you intently, his eyes never straying far from yours. It was as though he was memorizing every detail, every expression, and every shift in your mood. You took a sip of your wine, savoring the moment, but before you could set your glass down, Trent leaned forward. His thumb gently brushed the corner of your mouth, catching a droplet of the deep red, his touch light but deliberate.

“Got you,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. His thumb lingered for a few seconds longer. You blinked, caught off guard by the tender gesture. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible as your cheeks heated. You ducked your head slightly, shy under his steady gaze. But Trent wasn’t about to let you retreat into yourself. He leaned across the table a little more, his hand moved to hold for your chin. His fingers tilted your face toward him, his touch as soft as his voice. 

“Look at me, baby,” he said gently, and when you lifted your eyes to meet his, he gave you a small, reassuring smile. Then, before you could overthink it, he closed the gap between you. His lips brushed against yours in a kiss so light it felt like a question, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your heart racing as the kiss deepened for just a moment before you pulled back with a nervous giggle.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip. “That was… woah, you had me…. That was a lot...” You laughed shaking your head. You weren’t sure what planet you were on. He had pulled you into this world tonight that felt so surreal. He’d never done that to you before, kissed you in public, flirted with you at right while you sat across a table from him, it was all so confusing, and yet, he looked calm as ever. His movements were slow and deliberate. But then Trent chuckled, leaning back in his seat, but his hand stayed on yours, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. 

“Was it now?” he teased, his grin playful. You smirked, trying to compose yourself. 

“How many girls have you done that to?” you asked, your tone light but with a touch of curiosity beneath the joke. Trent raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. 

“What kind of question is that?” He asked you. His smile now sickened handsome and taunting.

“An important one,” you shot back, your grin widening. He held up his hand, palm out like he was swearing an oath. 

“Hand on heart, I have never wiped someone’s face. Not like that.” He told you. You narrowed your eyes at him, skeptical.

“Sure,” you drawled, the sarcasm dripping from your tone.

“I swear,” he said, leaning forward with a laugh. “You can ask anyone. I’ve never done that before.” You shook your head, trying to hide the way his words made your heart flutter. 

“Right,” you muttered, looking down at your plate to avoid his gaze. The restaurant around you felt like a cocoon. The warm lighting and muted colors created a sense of privacy, even though you knew other people were dining nearby. It was hard to tell if his choice in restaurants that felt hidden was intentional or if it was just your perception, but either way, it was okay. The world outside might as well not exist you were so transfixed on him tonight. You had recently got to spend a lot of time with Trent but really getting his undivided attention at a dinner had your head spinning. And apparently that internal chaos was something he could feel. 

“Stop overthinking,” Trent said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts. You looked up at him, startled. 

“I’m not.” You smiled softly trying to just act normal but you couldn’t. 

“You are.” He smirked, his fingers sliding across the table to intertwine with yours. “I can see it all over your face.” You sighed, letting your thumb trace over his hand in return.

 “Maybe I am,” you admitted. “This just… it feels surreal.”

“Surreal good or surreal bad?” he asked, his tone soft but his expression serious.

“Surreal good,” you said quickly, meeting his eyes. “Definitely good.” He smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat.

 “Good,” he said simply, squeezing your hand. The rest of the evening unfolded in a blur of easy conversation and quiet laughter. Trent kept finding ways to touch you—his hand brushing against yours, his knee bumping yours under the table, his fingers trailing lightly over your wrist when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Each touch felt deliberate, like he was grounding himself in the moment. By the time dessert arrived, you’d forgotten about everything outside of this little bubble you’d created together. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t worried about what came next. You were just… happy.

Just as the waiter placed dessert on the table, your eyes drifted across the restaurant, scanning the room out of habit. That’s when you saw him—a player from Manchester United, someone you vaguely recognized. It took a moment to place him, but when you did, your stomach dropped. He wasn’t just another footballer. He was someone who was friends with Josh. And worse, he also knew Trent. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table as a wave of anxiety crashed over you. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but it didn’t matter. The possibility that he might put two and two together made your throat tighten. Your heart raced as your mind spun through a dozen worst-case scenarios.

“Everything okay?” Trent’s voice cut through the fog. He’d been reaching for his fork, but now his full attention was on you, concern flickering in his eyes. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to sound casual. Trent didn’t buy it. His hand reached across the table, covering yours. 

“What’s wrong, baby. Is this not what you wanted?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he meant the dessert you just ordered or tonight in general, and while you thought you wanted both before now… you weren’t sure.  You hesitated, glancing back toward the other player, who was now laughing with his group, blissfully unaware of your presence. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, your voice quieter.

“Y/N,” Trent said firmly, his hand squeezing yours. “Talk to me.” You looked back at him, his steady gaze grounding you for a moment, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift.

“Someone we know is here..” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Who?” Trent’s brows furrowed, his body tensing slightly as his protective instincts kicked in.

“Some lad on Man United… I think you know him,” you said, your eyes darting nervously toward the man again. “But he knows Josh… and he knows you.” Trent’s jaw tightened, and his grip on your hand shifted, his thumb stroking over your knuckles in a soothing motion.

 “Okay,” he said slowly. “And?”

“And he might recognize me,” you blurted out. “Us. Together.” Trent leaned back slightly, his expression softening as he pieced together your anxiety. 

“You’re worried about people finding out.” He cooed softly empathizing with your fear.  This was a big change to go from stolen kisses in the kitchen to sitting out in public together. You nodded, your stomach twisting. 

“This whole night has been amazing, but… I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For being public. For the questions, the stares, the judgment. I mean, what if Jack—” you began to babble, faster more panicked.

“Stop, pretty girl.” Trent interrupted gently but firmly. “Breathe for a second.” You took a shaky breath, but your chest still felt tight. “Look at me,” he said, his tone steady. When your eyes met his, he leaned forward, his expression open and earnest. “I get it. I do. This is… a lot. And if you’re not ready, we can figure it out. But right now, it’s just us. No one else matters.” He told you in a tone that Trent reserved solely god you. It was commanding but incredibly weak all at once. You swallowed hard, his words calming you slightly, but doubt still lingered. 

“I don’t want to ruin this,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“You won’t,” he said, his tone firm. “I won’t let you.” The conviction in his voice made you want to believe him, but the weight of everything—your past, your ex, Jack, the scrutiny that would inevitably come—still sat heavy on your chest.

 “I just…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

“Baby... please. Just be here with me ,” Trent said with a small smile. “I’m here with you. That’s all that matters right now. And if it's really too much, just say the word. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work but for right now.. Just try.” He cooed gently.  You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. 

“You’re being too nice.” You giggled nervously. Trent had always been unreasonably patient and kind with you and that clearly wasn’t about to change. “I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes, you do,” he said without hesitation, his voice so sure it made your chest tighten even more. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that you could do this, that you could be brave enough to let this relationship exist outside of the shadows. But as you glanced back at the other boy across the room, your stomach churned with doubt. Trent’s hand on yours pulled your attention back to him.  “Hey,” he said softly. “baby, I'm serious, if you’re not ready, we can leave. No pressure.” Trent meant what he said but he'd be lying if a part of him wasn't aching for you just to try with him. To really commit to him, to this, to trying- it hurt. You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head.  The dinner had been perfect so far—Trent’s soft smiles, the way his fingers occasionally grazed yours on the table, and the playful, teasing lilt of his voice when he spoke. But your nerves had made it hard to focus entirely on him. You were too aware of your surroundings, glancing discreetly across the restaurant, noting every unfamiliar face. And then him. Josh’s friend. Maybe his name was Devon, you couldn't remember. And while he hadn’t said a word to you or Trent, his presence alone had unsettled you, pulling your mind into a spiral of what ifs. You felt like you were holding your breath, waiting for something to go wrong. You looked at Trent, his concern breaking through the wall of anxiety building in your chest. Trent was being so gentle, so patient, and it hit you—he deserved all of your attention tonight. It wasn’t fair to let the past shadow this moment.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm here." you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to let go of the tension in your shoulders, and allowed yourself to fall back into the bubble he created. With each passing minute, it became easier to focus solely on him. His laughter was infectious, the way he leaned in closer to you when you spoke made your stomach flutter. You’d forgotten how safe it felt to be wrapped up in someone like this, where the rest of the world melted away. But while you were blissfully unaware, Josh’s friend wasn’t. From his seat across the restaurant, he stared, squinting as recognition settled in. First, he caught sight of Trent—someone he knew well from the pitch, a rival he loved to hate. Then, his gaze shifted to you, seated across from him, clearly on a date. It was all too good. You, the ex of his best mate, now smiling, laughing, leaning into the guy who had made headlines time and again for his assists. He reached for his phone, holding it low as he snapped a photo of you both, capturing the intimacy of the moment. Trent’s hand resting on yours, your head tilted slightly as you laughed at something he’d just said. He smirked, tucking the phone away, already composing the perfect explanation to Josh when they inevitably debriefed. Meanwhile, you and Trent remained nonchalant, completely unaware of the brewing storm outside your little world. It didn’t matter, though—not right now. Your focus was on the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, on how his foot brushed against yours under the table. For that moment, it was just the two of you—soft beginnings and unspoken promises, blissfully unaware of the chaos looming on the horizon.

As the car rolled down Trent’s driveway, the engine cut and he turned to you, his hand still loosely holding yours. “I’m off tomorrow,” he said, his voice soft but hopeful. “You’ll stay with me tonight?” He asked. You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, but the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. 

“Obviously,” you teased with a giggle.

“C’mon,” he said with a smirk, stepping out of the car and coming around to open your door, his hand extended to help you out. As you walked to his front door, he hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone quieter. 

“I know this might sound stupid, but… I feel like I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here.” Your heart clenched at his honesty, and you turned to look at him, warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” you said, teasing but still genuine. “Guess you’ll just have to invite me over more often.”  You smiled at him.

“Yeah?” He smiled down at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. 

“Yeah,” you said confidently, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Trent unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. 

“That’s all the time.” As you walked past him, he murmured under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it. You stopped just inside the doorway and turned to look at him, your expression softening. 

“Hmm?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. But you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“No, say it again. You said something,” you cooed, stepping closer to him, your curiosity piqued. He hesitated, running a hand over his hair, before finally meeting your eyes.

 “I said that’s all the time. I need you all the time.” He repeated himself feeling a little embarrassed. For a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken but deeply felt. You stepped closer, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. 

“You’re such a closeted melt, you know that?” you teased, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice softening as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You bring it out of me.” You leaned into him, your forehead resting against his, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just you and Trent, tangled up in each other, finding solace in the quiet honesty of the moment.

The moment you stepped into Trent’s ensuite that night, a wave of peace swept over you, so profound it nearly took your breath away. You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as your eyes scanned the room. It was large but not overly ornate, it felt like him—clean, understated, yet warm. Your toothbrush stood beside his on the sink, its placement deliberate and thoughtful. A small bottle of your favorite cleanser sat next to his cologne, nestled naturally as if it had always belonged there. A claw clip of yours rested near the edge of the counter, a quiet, unspoken reminder of the nights you’d spent here. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to undo you. You felt a tightness in your chest, not from anxiety or pain, but from an overwhelming sense of being seen. In the past, you’d been in rooms like this before. You’d picked up a bobby pin that didn’t belong to you, brushed past an earring left by someone else, and each time, it stung like a fresh wound, proof that you were just one of many. But here? Here, there were no ghosts of anyone else. Only you. It was all you tucked neatly beside only him. You took a step forward, letting your fingers trail along the edge of the counter. The thought of it—Trent deliberately making room for you, keeping your things here like they were as much a part of his space as his own—made your heart swell. It was such a simple thing, yet it felt monumental.

The sound of his footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. You turned slightly to see him walk in, peeling his T-shirt off over his head in one easy motion. His body, lean and strong, caught the soft light of the room. He tossed the shirt onto the hamper carelessly before his eyes found yours in the mirror. A small, easy smile played on his lips as he crossed the room toward you, his movements unhurried. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you gently into him. His warmth seeped into your back as he pressed his chin against your shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and steady, full of sincerity. You turned your head to look at him directly, but before you could speak, he tilted his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, and the simple touch sent a shiver through you. “I mean it,” he murmured into the curve of your shoulder, his voice muffled but no less sure. “I can’t sleep without you sometimes, baby.” His confession made your breath hitch. Your chest rose and fell, your heart racing, but not from nerves. This was so different, quieter, yet somehow so much deeper. You turned fully into his embrace, letting your hands rest on his forearms, your fingers tracing the lean muscles there. His lips trailed across your skin, pressing soft, unhurried kisses along your neck and shoulder. He wasn’t rushing; he was savoring, as if every touch of his lips was a silent reassurance, a promise he didn’t yet know how to put into words. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaning back into him as he tightened his hold on you. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingers finding their place on your bare stomach. He rubbed slow, languid circles there, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “You look so good like this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and reverent. A quiet hum escaped your lips as you leaned into him even more, your head resting against his shoulder. It wasn’t just his touch that made you feel this way; it was the way he held you, like you were something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“This,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “This feels… perfect.” You told him.

“It does,” he replied, his voice equally soft but certain. For a while, you stayed there, wrapped in each other, letting the stillness of the moment settle over you. The air between you was charged yet calming, full of unspoken truths and quiet reassurances. As his hands continued their soothing motion on your stomach, you felt it—a profound sense of belonging. This wasn’t just a room, or a night, or even a fleeting moment. This was what you’d been searching for, what you hadn’t known you needed until now.

“You really like when I stay with you?” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly with emotion.

“I really do,” he promised, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. His words weren’t just for the moment; they felt like a vow, one you believed with your whole heart. And as you stood there, his arms around you, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of something that finally felt like home. Your moment of bliss was split when his phone rang. It was late, no one but someone important would call this late so you nodded for him to take it. He placed a couple more kisses onto your shoulder and your neck before dragging his hands off of you.

"Come to bed when you’re ready," he murmured nodding you on to finish getting ready for bed whilst he answered a phone call that ended up being from his agent.  

As you stepped out of the en-suite, Trent was already lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard, his dark eyes fixed on you. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over his chiseled features. He looked god-esque, his tanned skin glistening in the soft light, and his brown eyes sparkling with desire. You could feel a rush of excitement as you noticed the bulge in his sweatpants, a clear indication of his arousal. Smiling shyly, you approach the bed, your heart racing. Setting your phone down on the nightstand, you climbed onto the bed, your eyes never leaving his. Trent's gaze traveled down your body, taking in every curve, his eyes lingering on your tits, now partially exposed in your little silk pajama set.

"You look beautiful," he says, his voice deep and husky. "I love seeing you like this, at home with me… getting into bed with me.” He told you and though you agreed with loving his domestic this all felt you really liked the undertone of lust. You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of pleasure at the way he was able to make you feel desired. 

"Yeah?” you replied, your voice a little breathless. "I like how you look at me when I get into your bed.” You smirked. Trent chuckled, a low, seductive sound that sent shivers down your spine. 

"I can't help it, baby. You're so fucking sexy." He reached out and ran his fingers along your jawline, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. "I've been thinking about this all day. About having you here, back in my bed, doing all the things I've been dreaming of." Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You'd been dreaming of this moment too, of being with Trent, of a night like tonight exploring the passion and desire you'd both kept hidden for so long now bringing it out in public. Yet, in the bedroom, in private, was where you most wanted to be. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to touch you, taste you, make you say my name." He cooed gently with a purr. Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. You  always knew Trent was a confident and dominant guy, but hearing him express his desires so openly sends a thrill through your body every time.  You wanted to please him, to submit to his every whim, and the thought excited you beyond measure.

"Yes, please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I want that now, baby." Trent's eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, and he pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, a gentle tease that left you craving more.

 "I'm going to take care of you, baby," he murmurs between kisses. As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, your body molding perfectly to his. His tongue danced with yours, exploring, tasting, and claiming. You can taste the mint from your toothpaste on his tongue, a refreshing contrast to the heat building between you. His kiss was demanding, possessive, and it sent a clear message—he wants you, and he's going to have you. Your hands began to roam over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his freshly clean shirt he’d just put on. You tugged at the fabric, eager to feel his skin against yours. Trent broke the kiss, his breathing heavy as he helped you lift his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted torso. The sight of his bare chest took your breath away. His skin was smooth and tanned, with a light dusting of hair that trails down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his joggers.

"Fuck, you're so hot, T," you whispered, running your fingers over his pecs, feeling the rigid definition of his muscles. Trent's eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your words. He leaned back, pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. The position giving you a delicious sense of power. You took a moment to admire the sight of his strong body beneath you.

"Y/N," he growled your name, his hands gripping your thighs. "Show me how much you want me." He commanded you. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of boldness as you reached down grasping the waistband of his joggers. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid them down his hips, revealing his thick, erect cock, straining against his boxer briefs. You let out a soft gasp at the sight, your body throbbing with need, your fingers tracing the length of his shaft through the thin fabric. Trent's breath hitched as your fingers teased him, he bucked his hips, seeking more contact.  "Fuck, baby," he groans. "Take what you want. Show me.” You didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift motion, you hooked your thumbs under the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down, freeing his hard length. His cock sprung free, thick and heavy, the head glistening with pre-cum. You lean down, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, making him shudder. "Suck my cock, pretty girl," he commanded smugly, his hands gently dragging up your arm, to your shoulder, before moving to push some of your hair back. You obliged with a smile and a hum, lowering your head and taking the tip of his cock into your warm mouth. Trent let out a guttural moan as you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the salty sweetness of him. You sucked gently, taking him deeper, inch by inch, until you could feel his hands in your hair, encouraging you to take more. "That's it, good girl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently, fucking your mouth. And you took him well, minute after minute. "You wanna make me cum, baby? Suck me nice and slow, feel how hard you make me." You moaned around his length, the vibrations sending him over the edge. Trent's hands tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he empties his load down your throat. You swallow, relishing the taste of him, the evidence of his pleasure. He pulled you up, his lips seeking yours, sharing a deep, passionate kiss. "You're incredible," he breathed, his hands stroking your back. "I can't get enough of you." You smiled against his lips, feeling empowered by his words. 

"I want to feel you inside me, T," you whispered, your hands roaming down his body, eager for more of him. He grinned, his eyes alight with anticipation.

“Mmmm, good, cause I plan to be inside you all night, baby." With that, he rolled you onto your back, his body covering yours, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands slide under your top, caressing your skin, making you squirm with delight. "Let me take this off," he murmurs, his fingers deftly pulling up your silk tank top. You lifted your arms, allowing him to remove the garment, baring your tits to his hungry gaze. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your tits, your nipples already taut and begging for attention. "So fucking gorgeous," he growled, lowering his head to take a tight peak into his mouth. His tongue teased and suckled, drawing a moan from deep within you. You arched into his touch, your hands threading through his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, squeezing, and caressing, making you feel alive and desired in a way you never had. "So good f’me, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as he moves to the other boob, giving it the same attentive treatment. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your body humming with desire. Trent's hands travel down your body, playing with the waistband of your shorts before sliding them down your legs, leaving you clad only in your lacy panties. He took a moment to admire your naked form, his eyes burning with appreciation. "You're so fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with admiration. "I’ve wanted this for so long. Every time feels like dream. Just want to worship every inch of you."  His words sent a thrill through your body, almost as if he cast a spell with them causing your legs to magically spread in silent invitation, eager for more of his touch. Trent knelt between your thighs, his eyes fixed on your core, now covered only by a thin layer of silk. "Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asked tauntingly but his voice hoarse with need.

“Mhhhmm. Please, T.” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps as he hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs. He took his time, his eyes never leaving your exposed heat, drinking in the sight of your glistening folds.

"So wet just for me," he murmurs, his fingers gently parting your lips, exposing your clit. You let out a soft cry as his finger brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Trent leaned down, his breath hot against your swollen flesh, and then he replaced his finger with his mouth, his tongue flicking and lapping at your clit.

"Oh God, T, fuck," you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as he feasted on your pussy, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending you closer to the edge. His fingers joined his tongue, sliding into your wet heat, stretching and filling you as he suckled your clit. Your body coiled tighter with each stroke, each flick of his tongue, until you were teetering on the precipice of release.

"Cum for me, baby," he urges, his voice muffled against your sex. "Let me feel you come on my tongue." His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure rippling through you. Trent didn’t let up though, his tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, drawing out your orgasm until you were left trembling and sated. He moved up your body, his lips finding yours, sharing the taste of your climax. "So good f’me, baby," he breathes, his eyes filled with adoration. "I love making you feel good. Love making you cum." You tiredly smiled, your heart full as you pull him close, feeling the deep connection between you. 

"I love cumming for you, T," you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his face. Both of you were using the orgasm as a front. Hiding behind the physical sensations to mask the very deep emotional connection developing. Neither of you really cared about that specific orgasm, no matter how good it was - you just were so clearly in love with each other and needed to say something but this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. "I've never felt this way before." You sheepishly told him. He kissed you softly, his lips brushing yours in a tender caress.

 "I know, baby. I feel it too. This is just the beginning. Promise" Trent cooed. He was talking about sex tonight but he was also talking about your relationship, your feelings. As his words began to sink in, you realized this night was just the start of something much bigger. The rest of the evening was spent in every position possible. Each orgasm hacking away at your restraint. You were falling weaker and weaker to him literally and figuratively, terrified you’d let those three little words slip. But after round five and orgasm seven you said no more, clinging to Trent, exhausted and spent, your eyes fluttering closed as he held you securely rubbing his hands up and down your body gently. He hummed in agreement kissing your glistening skin. He cleaned you up but you barely remember it as you were focused on nothing else but not letting your tired mind and body mutter how truly in love with him you really were. You successfully fell to sleep with no slip ups but Trent could feel the tension. He almost wished you had said it so he could finally admit it to you but that wasn't the case. And so that night, he held you tighter to him than he ever had before as he dozed off, unable to leave any space for the words you both longed to say. He was struggling to bite back the feelings looking at you asleep in his arms, the words so desperate to come out now. You looked so different now. Different than you did on the porch and you felt different too. You felt like you were his. But it wasn't just you, it all felt different, so different. Things had changed. You two had changed and there was no turning back now.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 11 xx

[wannabanauthor]

Tim Minear, here's a hint for you:

For BuckTommy, you don't even have to get them back together as a couple immediately.

You can bring Tommy back to give Buck some closure, and Buck can suggest they just be friends because he misses Tommy's company.

So they still hang out with each other and Eddie, and Buck finally feels ready to start dating again. He doesn't mention it to Tommy, but maybe one day someone lets something slip about Buck going on a great date with this amazing guy, and Tommy overhears it.

Since he broke up with Buck, he knows he can't really question Buck about it, but it still irks him for the very obvious reason that he's still in love with Buck but doesn't think it's fair to ask for a second chance after breaking Buck's heart.

But the slight twist is that Buck is genuine friends with the new guy he's dating, and they like to sleep together on occasion, but it's not an actual romantic relationship. Neither one of them are looking for something serious, but they enjoy each other's company. However, that's their own private business, so Buck hasn't told anyone else the details of his situation. He just allows everyone to believe he's dating.

He knows Tommy will find out eventually, but he doesn't want to tell him or bring it up because it'd be awkward.

Tommy is noticeably irritated and a little curt with Buck on the inside, but he maintains his mask perfectly so that Buck never catches on.

Until one night, they're about to leave for a movie, but Buck's "friend" calls and Buck has to cancel his plans with Tommy.

Tommy leaves, very upset and irritated, but he doesn't even make it to his car before he turns around goes back up to Buck's loft. He knows that nothing is official with Buck's friend, so he knocks on the door, and Buck answers it.

Tommy kisses him hard and closes the door behind him. Buck is in shock, much like the first time Tommy kissed Buck.

Tommy then just lets it all out. He tells Buck that he loves him and misses him, and he hates himself for ending things the way they did and for breaking both of their hearts. He says he thought he could handle Buck dating again, but he can't. He's still in love with him and wants him back. He's willing to do anything: seek counseling, starting over, even moving in with Buck on a trial run basis.

Buck starts crying and releases all the emotions/thoughts he's had/felt since Tommy broke up with him. He's angry, rightfully so, that Tommy hurt him and that it took seeing another man in Buck's life for Tommy to make a move. He asks why Tommy waited until now to really say anything. He talks extensively of all the ways Tommy hurt him when they broke up.

Then his final questions for Tommy are "Why now? Why are you willing to make an effort now and not months ago? Do you actually see a future with me? Or are you scared of being alone if I move on?"

Tommy confesses that he's always wanted a future with Buck, but he's scared of getting hurt again. But he acknowledges that Buck is not at fault for the way past partners have treated him, and he should have stayed and talked things over with Buck instead of ending things and walking away.

Buck kisses Tommy and says he misses him and loves him too. Tommy wipes away Buck's tears and kisses him again and again.

After a few smooches, Buck pulls back and clarifies that he's still angry and hurt over the breakup, but he wants to work through it. Tommy promises not to run away like that again, or at the very least tell Buck when he needs space to think something over before making a decision.

Then they work on their relationship until enough time has passed for them to be happily ever after.

Tim Minear, this storyline alone could last you a couple seasons since Tommy is a guest recurring character.

I'm throwing you a lifeline here, so take it and make something with it. Do what white men are known for and steal this idea and make it yours. Come on, you can do it. Prove to folks that you're not just a mediocre white man who skated by on privilege instead of talent.

Because the queer people of color in this fandom are doing a better job of explaining your mess than you are.

That is all.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bucky who starts a purely platonic physical touch giving friendship with reader… until it turns into more

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡  ｡✭･ﾟ

It starts off so innocently. Bucky just sat really close to you one day and noticed how the touch of your shoulder on his made him tingly all over.

The same happened when your hand brushed his, or you passed close by, and he caught a whiff of your hair - something that reminds him of the feeling he now seeks out when you’re around.

It’s no secret that either of you have been single a long time with basically no prospects for a future relationship, so no one questions when you and him suddenly hang out more.

He invites you over when you ask him if he was okay, and he realized that his day was in fact crappy and that if you offered to talk to him, he’d tell you all about it.

And when you sit on the sofa listening to Bucky talk, your hand instinctively found his and before Bucky knew it, his head was pressed into your shoulder, your nails raking over his scalp releasing a feeling within him, he can only describe as heavenly.

He loves it when you comfort him, and he loves comforting you, somehow knowing that you need this part of your friendship just as much as he does.

So it becomes a regular thing: when the rest of the team returns home to their spouses after a tiring mission, you and Bucky retreat to either one of your apartments under the pretense of not wanting to be alone.

Of course, neither of you planned for it to become so touchy and intimate... no, that would be insane, right?

It’s a normal afternoon for the two of you, hanging out at your place, a movie playing on TV, Bucky’s head buried in your chest as he lays half on top of you and you with your back against the sofa. Your hand rakes over his hair as his are halfway tugged beneath your body, seeking all the warmth he can get.

The physical touch aspect of your relationship has somehow crossed the lines between friends, but neither of you care. It feels too good to be held and protected to stop.

Bucky hasn't felt the caring touch of a partner in decades and you... well, let's just say that all men before Bucky didn't feel the need to express their love through aftercare - not that Bucky is in any way shape or form about to give said aftercare... no, you are just friends. Just. Friends.

Friends who frequently hide their hands in the other's jacket when the cold catches up to them.

Friends who bury their faces in each other's chest and lap like it is the most normal thing a person can do to another.

Friends who somehow always wonder if the other feels that spark ignite whenever they hold each other close.

Bucky feels the sensation when he's practically caging you beneath his upper body of the sofa. He lifts his head as he usually does to see if maybe this time he could magically hear your thoughts.

"What's up?"

He shakes his head. "I just really enjoy this." he mumbles and blushes, and your hand suddenly stops its path along his scalp.

"Me too." you smile and look into his eyes.

normally he'd put his head back, and you'd resume watching the movie, but something is different today.

maybe it's the way his hair looks perfectly tousled by your constant motions, or maybe it's the way he slowly blinks at you like a very comfortable pet.

but you finally find the courage to kiss him.

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[polarisjisung]

LITTLE THINGS

synopsis: when your boyfriend climbs up the very tree you hate so much, on a stormy night, all just to see you, suddenly the big bad oak tree outside doesn't seem all that intimidating

wc: 1.2k

pairings: chenle × fem! reader, established relationship

genre: fluff

warning: mentions of a storm, uses of petnames, use of the word death

notes: HAPPY CHENLE DAY! this is a little cheesy but fuck it we ball ig

You've always hated the massive oak tree outside your bedroom window, the one that likes to play these unintentional pranks on you in the middle of the night.

Branches flying and spinning as if they're about to snap off, leaves forming shapes you didn't even know existed through the window as the wind whistled behind you.

It felt eerie, like you were in those horror movies where the main lead seemed to have no common sense and jumped at the oppurtunity at getting themselves killed, like they actively sought out death.

It made you feel like danger lurked at every corner, you were caged by nothing more than the four thin walls of your bedroom, and that the curtains that masked the outside, though not particularly well, were your only form of blissful ignorance.

On the windy, less peaceful nights as you tossed and turned in bed, you didn't appreciate that massive oak tree whatsoever. Tonight, your dislike for the thing feels amplified, and you come to the conclusion that you'll be chopping it down even if it's the last thing you do. Heck, you'd get the saw and do it yourself if you could.

You don't like it, the rumbling, those loud cracks or the booming sound followed by quick, incessant flashes across the sky.

It caused shivers to run down your spine, your pupils to dilate and your eyes to be screwed shut, your fingers curling in on themselves as you cocooned yourself in the warmth of your blanket.

Simply put you don't like thunderstorms

And that darn oak tree is of no help. Especially not when there's a rather distinct shadow slowly crawling across that of the tree, one you take peaks at and look away from in turn as you slowly sink deeper into your mattress, seeing it move towards you, getting closer by the second

You swear you'd elicit a scream had it not been the dead of the night, knowing if you did, you'd get an absolute earful about it the next morning, being such a scaredy cat at your big age

There's a knocking at your window only a few moments later. You gulp.

God you did not want to die today.

"Y/n" there's a deep, hesitant whisper of your name and you can't help but curl further into the thin duvet that rests over your shaking body, by no means was it cold, but it felt protective against the storm outside, and that was reason enough for you to wrap yourself up in the blue comforter— your life practically depended on it

You're imagining things, you convince yourself, sighing and closing your eyes in attempts to drift off to sleep.

But the light treading of footsteps that grows louder and louder has you bolting your eyes open in seconds

"Oh goody, you're awake" chenle's beaming voice in your room at 2am was not what you had been expecting, you're not quite sure where he gets this much energy from in the middle of the night either, shooting him a dark glare, between your own two sleepy eyes

"You couldn't use the damn door Zhong?" your hand plants itself against your forehead as you shoot up from your bed, quietly stomping over to him to shut the window— something you'd been meaning to do for the past few hours, but had simply been too scared to do.

"Yeah well your parents hate me and I'm not sure they'd like me making my jolly old way through the front door given the hour" he rolls his eyes, setting his wet jacket down to dry

"And you think they'll like you for sneaking in through the window instead?" you whisper yell, brows somewhat furrowed

"What they don't know won't hurt them" he shrugs, a little too casually for someone who'd just parkoured their way up a tree at 2am, you hum regardless, he wasn't wrong.

"Besides they don't hate you" he takes a seat at the edge of your bed

"Now don't lie to me princess" he chuckles low and slow "we both know they hate do, especially daddio"

"Hate is a strong word, they're just not your biggest fans" you defend, letting chenle wrap you up in the spare hoodie of his he'd bought along with him "though I can't say that you calling my father, daddio is doing much to help"

"I didn't come here to talk about whether your parents approve of me" he smiles, eyes rolling yet again as he wraps his arm around you, "that's a conversation for later— right now, I'm here for you"

"At 2am on a Monday morning? we have school Chenle"

"Well correct me if im wrong princess but I'm sure you'd rather me be here than be all alone on a night like this" he says, gesturing towards the window with a tilt of his neck

"No way" you huff "i'm a big girl, a little storm won't phase me" you say proudly with a puffed chest, not that it lasts long as you practically throw yourself into chenle's arms with a muffled screech, when another strike of lightning booms above you, heartbeat erratic

chenle chuckles to himself

"What was that, a little storm, not sure about a big girl but you sure are a big baby" he laughs again, "my big baby"

You pout, "don't tease, it's scary"

You feel his hand run across your hair in attempts to ease the racing of you heart, pulling you from his chest to take ahold of your cheeks in his hands, gently caressing them with tender eyes locked into your own

His stare is strong, unlike yours, yet there's a deep rooted gentleness to those eyes that overwhelms you with calm. Chenle always knew this fear of yours made you feel pathetic, childish in fact.

"is it still scary? even when I'm here"

You respond with a shy shaking of your head

"Nothings scary when you're here," you whisper against his hold, and chenle swears, he feels his heart swell at how sweet your words are, falling from your lips so hushed, almost like they were sacred

"Not even that big bad oak tree outside?" chenle points at the horrific outline of the tree outside, earning a quick shudder from you before you tuck yourself back into his hold

"Not funny lele" you sulk

"Come on princess, it was a little" his lips tug upwards, your own smile hidden away between the material of his black hoodie

You shake your head "hate that tree with a passion"

"even if it helped me get up here?"

You shake your head again, maybe the big bad oak tree wasn't all that bad, maybe you just had to give it a chance to prove itself

"I'm glad you came" you say, pecking his cheek to affirm your gratitude

"Of course I came princess, you know I could never leave you alone on a night like this" he holds you tight against his chest, so firm you wonder whether he too thinks the wind would break through the walls and sweep you away

"Besides, I have to make sure there's no other guys sneaking in through your window"

[rewiringtoheal]

This Pain Is Temporary

Anna x Fem!Reader

He's Just Not That Into You AU

Summary: I was watching this movie and had a lot of what if questions. What if the main cast actually all communicated with each other? What if Anna actually had some character development? What if Reader was a variation of a female Conor Barry who got a clue? And how would these differences lead to Anna genuinely falling in love with Reader.

warnings: very slowburn, angst, worse before better, eventual fluff.

You feel used. This person that you love…loved?? You aren’t really sure anymore of your feelings toward Anna. It was never simple with her. And truthfully, you wish you could go back to your blissful ignorance.

 You had been so thrilled when she told you she was finally ready to take the next step with you. A real relationship with the girl of your dreams. Having your heartfelt love confession be returned and then making love for hours was more than you ever could have hoped for. 

You now knew it was all a lie. And that Anna was a very skilled actor. In your excitement you had raced home the next morning to tell your best buddy Alex and his new girlfriend GiGi the news. After showing them a picture of Anna and you. The night of bliss quickly turned sour; GiGi hesitantly told you that Anna was the same woman that had a very recent affair with her best friend's husband. And everything the past few months had started to make sense. How Anna would constantly ignore your calls but somehow always be available when she needed her emotional needs met. And finding out that the only reason she wanted a relationship with you was because the man of her dreams wouldn’t leave his wife was heartbreaking. How could you be so stupid? And how could you be so blind to the type of person Anna really was.

You felt a hand squeezing your knee bringing you back to the world around you. You  see GiGi’s hand retreating and her eyes filled with sorrow. You muster up a strained smile.

“Well, at least I had my dream girl for a moment even if it wasn’t real. Looking back, I kinda see now that she treated me like shit but I was so lost in her. I can’t believe I was so blind to her selfishness. And now this…I don’t think I ever really knew her at all,” you say somberly.  

Alex let out a deep sigh, “Dude I don’t really know what to say. She did really shitty things but maybe she's not a shitty person. The moments you had together weren’t all fake. The parts of herself she showed you are probably real. And you can love those parts and still be hurt that she lied about her feelings for you.”

You give a weak chuckle, “You’re right..but I don’t know how to deal with this. I do still love her even if she used me. I see it so clearly now. I’m the back up plan. The person she really wanted hurt her so she chose the safe option.”

Gigi looked at you, her eyes filling with sorrow, “Sometimes people don’t know what they have until it's gone. She is making awful decisions and it’s hurting everyone around her. Deal with this by loving yourself first. I know it's hard but she doesn’t appreciate you. And only wants you when she has no one else.”

That was hard to hear but Gigi was right. You need to take care of yourself. For months you have been putting all of your energy into Anna. Being there for her emotionally, picking up her dry cleaning, giving her rides, and loving her to the best of your ability. All to realize that she never really cared about you, not even as a friend. A friend wouldn’t play with your feelings like this.  

You continue to chat with your friends for a little while longer. Eventually you grow too sad and too tired to keep up the conversation. You excuse yourself for the night and head up to your bedroom. Not in the mood to do your night time routine you just chuck off your clothes, put your cellphone on your night stand and cuddle under the covers. 

Your mind keeps turning in circles as you lay there. The happiness you had felt earlier today has turned into a deep sadness. And for the first time since Gigi told you about Anna you allow yourself to cry. As silent tears move down the contours of your face you burrow into your pillow; just praying to yourself that you can fall asleep. Anything to stop the pain. 

You briefly wonder if Gigi’s friend Janine is in the same state you are right now. You know more than likely she is worse off than you. Janine's entire life is in shambles. Her husband is awful no doubt about it but you just can’t wrap your head around Anna getting involved with a married man. Nothing makes sense anymore but maybe you never had a clue to begin with.

[chithereader]

you and me / aaron hotchner

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x singer!reader , aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff, a little angst

cw: a lot of conversation, i went a little crazy i just love interviews like zane lowe’s!!! and soft aaron

a/n: this photo just makes me think of aaron waiting backstage for popstar!reader / singer!reader

and requests are open!! would love to know what you guys want to read ◡̈

You requested that the set-up of the interview be comfortable. You knew you’d be talking about your albums which are notoriously packed with stories and emotions, personal and imagined. Now what is more comfortable than your own home? 

When you were designing your home, you knew from the start you wanted a conversation pit. You’ve always dreamed of a house that screamed cozy and comfortable, warm and inviting. Even if it cost millions to make, you had no regrets. 

But aside from the occasional family dinners, your sunken living room was only ever used when Aaron and Jack sleep over, and you had a movie marathon night. You'd throw in duvets and pillows on the pit and bunch together whether it was cold or not.

So you thought this interview is perfect to justify your design choice. To use the conversation pit for actual conversation. Which brings you to now, sat across your good friend and favorite interviewer Zane Lowe, your previous and latest album being the topic of conversation. 

“Your previous album was– you know, I mean, it was–” Zane appears to struggle for a word to encapsulate one of the lowest points in your life. Fractured was definitely an emotional album to make and an even sadder one to listen to.  

“Depressing?” you jokingly say. Talking has always been so easy with Zane. He just has this air to him that lets you know he truly just wants to know you. You sit on the couch sideways, facing Zane. Leaning on the back rest with your elbow, head resting on your hand while your other hand fidgets with the tassels on the pillow. 

He laughs, “Well, you were definitely at a low point in your life romantically.” fiddling with his chin, thinking of his next words, “You just– I think you perfectly captured in your songs that sort of loss and tangible grief that comes with letting go of a person- not because there weren’t any love anymore but more because love just wasn’t enough to keep it going.” 

Remembering what had happened– the air felt thinner. Like it was getting harder to breathe. You had to remember that that point of your life was over. You felt such real pain that time, so much so that you struggled to function in your daily life. That void. That ringing emptiness. 

You’re brought back to reality by Zane’s voice, “Could you touch on how that came about?” 

You breathe out a small sigh and with a gentle smile you recall, “Yeah, uhm.. I was in this relationship.. which in hindsight, I’m so lucky to have been in. It taught me so much and truly made me so much more mindful I guess. I mean like, smarter? More conscious definitely of what goes into making a relationship work, and what makes it strong.” 

“But like you said, it ended because as much as we both wanted it to work, as much as we loved each other, it just wasn’t happening. And it was a vicious cycle that was tiring us out. We just knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that.” You pause for a bit, reflecting. 

Flashes of you and Aaron driving home in silence after a dinner at Rossi’s play in your head. You didn’t talk the whole night. Not when you were dressing up. Not in the car ride on the way there. Not when you sat down together. And definitely not when each of you were across the room, busy in separate conversations ignoring the glaringly obvious. 

Looking down at the decorative pillow in your lap, you start, “And I think that in my experience, that’s a lot more painful. I think that break-ups that happen when one hurts the other is somehow better because you get to hold on to I deserve better or like– there’s just thing like anger that drives you to move on.”

You’re taken back to that night. Coming home and feeling the weight of it fall on both your shoulders. You sat for hours in silence, holding each other. Knowing that when the sun rises, he’ll go to work, you’ll go on tour, and your little world will be put to rest. 

“But having that overflowing love for a person who is just not meant for you– I mean how do you tell yourself to let go? How can you even try to convince yourself ? Because people say so often that as long as you love someone there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them and that’s true. I’ve been there, and even everything wasn’t enough. And that was something we really struggled with.” 

“Just admitting that we had to love each other from afar before we turned into strangers together.” 

It just didn’t make sense. The love you had for each other was real. It was deep and true, and neither of you had any doubt of what you meant to each other. There was no question of loyalty or trust. 

But the traveling, the conflict in schedules, the missed calls and messages left on read. You just became both so busy, you were worlds apart. It even reached the point that you haven’t talked for days and neither of you noticed. Or minded. You thought of each other, yeah. But there wasn’t that urge to reach out anymore. There was just… longing. 

–

“Which brings us to now. Your latest album Leftover Love– it’s a lot more hopeful isn’t it? I mean I’d even go as far as saying that it’s about falling in love all over again.” Zane sips on the tea you made him. Leaning over the makeshift coffee table to add more milk in there. 

You straighten a little. Mood instantly lifting at the mention of your favorite album to date. Images of the inspiration behind the album filling your head. 

Zane puts down his tea to gesture generously, “And hearing it live, you could just feel it in the crowd– this kind of electricity. And because there’s no other way to put it– your songs in this album feel a lot like jumping and dancing with a partner in a room full of people and everything is just in slow motion. It’s like this sort of alignment or clicking into place, finding that one person that makes those small moments feel so.. big.” 

He put it perfectly into words. You had really hoped to relay through your songs the recent turn of events in your life. People who have supported you and loved you when you were at low points in your life got you through that, and you felt so strongly that they deserved to know and feel even a fraction of the happiness that you’re feeling right now through your new songs. 

“Definitely, I mean I’m so proud to say that these songs, even if they’re a touch fictional or exaggerated or romanticized– they are based on truths, on real things that have happened or are happening in my life.” You’re getting excited. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands until only your fingertips are visible– you place both hands down on the pillow as if bracing yourself for the climax of a rollercoaster ride. 

“The song Blindly for example, it’s about that feeling or like moment of realization that you’re just so crazy in love you’d follow this person anywhere blindly. I love that the sound’s so grunge-y and messy– insane. Because that’s literally how it feels to be in that whirlwind.” 

Zane picks up on your excitement, nodding at your explanation. He relaxes more into his seat and gestures to you, “It’s a good thing you mentioned that because I actually wanted to ask you why that song slows down at the end. I think that was such a unique and beautiful thing to do to the song and it works so well. But I just want to know what made you do that–” You’re biting your lip smiling, so proud that it was recognized as a conscious choice as a musician and artist.

Zane continues, “It goes from crazy drums and guitar, and the bass– then slows down into this almost hypnotic music box sound that transitions by the end into just this beat like a pulse.” 

Your smile grows bigger which Zane mirrors, “I’m so happy you picked up on that. I have to say that’s actually one of the songs I’m most proud of because it’s one of the first songs that I was heavily involved in the engineering of the sound.”

“But yeah I guess ultimately I just wanted it to mimic that transition from being in crazy love, tornado-esque to it literally settling into this beautifully calm and serene kind of love.” 

Zane listens intently, nodding and humming in agreement and knowing. Finally understanding the point of view from which the sound was created. He has this gentle smile on his face, almost of encouragement knowing you had more to say, 

“Like you go from all these dates and the honeymoon phase, and your heart’s just beating crazy fast all the time and then it turns into that steady murmur of your fridge in the null of the night when you’re baking muffins together in silence.”

You take a deep breath, chewing on the inside of your lip. Hopelessly trying to minimize the smile fighting its way on your face, “It’s just that process of someone becoming your home.” 

-

You're ushering out the last of the production people. Walking alongside Zane who’s the last to step out your front door, you give him a big hug which he returns warmly. 

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You bury your face into his shoulder and breathe out a laugh, “Thank you.. Really.” 

You separate and smile at each other. Waving goodbye as he walks backwards to his car. You stand by your front door until they pull out of your driveway.

Once you see that your driveway is empty, you turn to your door and see him leaning against the doorframe with a smug, knowing smirk. 

Rolling your eyes playfully as you pass by him into your home, he chuckles. You hear his footsteps behind you and you know he’s following you around while you tidy up the dishes you and Zane used, “Aaron, take out the trash please.” 

This man just listened to you talk about him for hours. With headphones and a monitor set up in the other room– Aaron just got his ego inflated to a size so immeasurable he can’t hide his smile from the strangers beside him controlling lights and volumes. He has got to be humbled.

“Oh so I’m back to Aaron now?” He catches up to you, halting your movements from behind as he takes hold of your arms so you can put down whatever was in them. Then he turns you around by your shoulders so you’re facing him, grinning that smile that makes you go Fuck and then blank in your head.

“And here I was thinking I was home.” Aaron pulls you close, sliding an arm around your waist only to settle on your back as the other holds your hand against his chest, in between you. He starts swaying you both slowly as he buries his nose into the side of your head, humming a familiar tune. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

While he was listening to you go on about how you loved him all throughout your rocky start and even more well into the present– he became overwhelmed with the realization that for once in his life, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he is loved. Truly, deeply, and steadily loved. And that filled him with something that nothing and no one could ever define or measure.