#career cushioning meaning

[goodcareerpath]

Is Working in Clothing/Shoe/Accessory Stores a Good Career Path?

Whether you want to make a career in this field or not, there are a few things you should know about it. You should learn about the pros and cons of the career, the entry level positions in the field, and the average salary expectations. Also, you should look at the future of this industry.

Is clothing/shoe/accessory stores a good career?

Whether you want to work in a clothing/shoe/accessory store or not, you should know the different kinds of jobs available. There are many jobs available, so you have to decide which one fits your personality and skills. You should also consider the requirements.

One of the best jobs available in a clothing/shoe/accessory stores is that of the store coordinator. This is a role that allows you to work closely with the store manager. This job requires you to have a business degree and a lot of communication skills.

You can also choose to work as a sales associate in a clothing/shoe/accessory shop. This job can be a good one for you if you are passionate about fashion. You can work with a wide variety of products and earn a nice encouraging salary. You will need to have basic math skills and a bilingual background.

For this job, you must have a clean driving record. You can also start off in a small store and work your way up to a managerial position. However, you will need to have a bachelor's degree to get a job in this field.

Entry level jobs in clothing/shoe/accessory stores

Whether you have a passion for fashion, or you are looking for a rewarding career, working in clothing/shoe/accessory stores can offer many opportunities for you. These industries are growing, and there are many positions to choose from.

Many jobs require some experience and training, but there are some good entry level jobs that do not require a college degree. You can gain the skills you need to work in these fields by enrolling in a vocational school. You can also gain practical skills through an apprenticeship.

Choosing a career is an important decision, and you need to know what you are passionate about. If you enjoy working with people and are not interested in long hours, then a career in a clothing store may be a good fit for you. Having a job in a clothing/shoe/accessory store can help you grow your relationships with customers and expand your knowledge of the fashion industry.

Entry level jobs in the clothing/shoe/accessory store industry are great for those looking to start a career. You can get started in your new career right out of high school. You may be surprised at the kinds of jobs you can get, and what you can expect to earn.

Average Salary Expectations in clothing/shoe store

Whether you are a student or a working professional, you may be wondering how much money you can expect to make in a clothing/shoe/accessory store. Luckily, there are a number of different ways to make money in this industry. The key to success is being able to select the right product, and ensuring that you are selling it for a fair price.

One of the best ways to make money is to become an independent sales representative. You can earn anywhere from $9 an hour, with a 15 percent commission, to $17 an hour, without commission. But, you will also need to learn how to speak the language of fashion, and to communicate with customers.

Another way to earn money is by becoming a store manager. As the leader of a store, you will have the power to set schedules, monitor the progress of your team, and ensure that customer service standards are met. While the average salary of a store manager is about $34,000, you can expect to make a lot more money.

Education certificate and Skill Requirements

Getting a certificate for a clothing/shoe/accessory store job can be a good way to get your foot in the door of the clothing industry. Some of the more technical skills are things you can learn through experience, but most of the basics can be learned through on the job training or through vocational school.

The best way to learn the ins and outs of a clothing store is to try it out. You may want to consider an apprenticeship in a particular department or area of the store. This will give you the experience you need and help you get hired. A good training program will even offer on the job training.

You may want to consider a fashion design certificate or a diploma in retail management. This can give you a leg up on your competition. These degrees teach you all about fashion and the textile industry, as well as the art of merchandising and merchandising management. Some of these degrees are required for jobs in the industry, and there are several vocational schools and community colleges offering them.

Pros of clothing/shoe/accessory stores

Whether you're looking for a job, starting a business, or just want to try something new, clothing/shoe/accessory stores can be a great way to get started. However, before you start thinking about working in a retail store, you should take some time to think about your own career goals.

The clothing, shoe, and accessory retail industry is a very large sector of the economy. It offers many different jobs. However, the industry is highly competitive. Therefore, you'll want to consider the type of store you want to work for, as well as the labor market.

One of the main advantages of working in a clothing store is that you can connect with customers. You can try on different types of clothing, and try to persuade them to buy. You can also grow your business by fostering relationships with your customers. In addition, you may be able to work at a clothing factory. You can also have time off when emergencies arise.

However, you'll need to have good communication skills to get started. You'll need to be able to attract customers, and sell products at the right price.

Cons of clothing/shoe/accessory stores

Getting started in a clothing/shoe/accessory store is no small feat. Whether you are a novice or a seasoned pro, there are many things to keep in mind, from finding a location to building a successful business plan. With the right planning and research, you can open the doors to success in no time. In fact, you'll be amazed at the amount of money you can make.

For starters, you'll need to understand how to manage the dozens of employees you'll be juggling. As such, you'll need to devise a formal system of communication, appoint a scribe, and make sure that each employee has his or her own personal space. Aside from this, you'll also need to devise a foolproof system of inventory management. To make sure that you don't overstock your store, you'll want to use a reputable e-commerce provider. This is especially true if you're just starting out.

The best way to tackle this is to start with a budget and a clear vision of what you want to achieve. If you're unsure of what your next career move will be, you can always consult an unbiased career counselor or go straight to your nearest career fair.

Conclusion

Whether you're interested in fashion or just want to work in an industry that pays well, clothing/shoe/accessory stores are a great career path. The apparel, shoe, and accessory industry is a growing sector, and there are many opportunities for advancement.

The clothing/shoe/accessory store industry involves working with people, and requires good communication skills. This is particularly important, as you will have to persuade customers to buy products. Additionally, you must be able to sell products at the right price.

One of the best jobs in the clothing/shoe/accessory store sector is store coordinator. This job requires a bachelor's degree, along with some business experience. The job can be held at multiple stores at one time, and the pay is usually good.

Another option is to be a store driver. This job requires a clean driving record, along with a driving license for the location where you plan to work. This job is paid hourly, and can be done at several stores at once.

You should be aware that there is a high turnover rate among clothing shoe accessory store employees. This is due to the fact that most people prefer to shop at these stores. You will have to be able to watch people shop, and learn about the industry.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Ranking the Veilguard companions Hookup Potential based on the kind of bed situation they have going on in the Lighthouse

(im in early act 2 so have no idea what further romance scenes are actually like, this is just jokin time without any romance spoilers. just pics of how their respective rooms in the lighthouse look and some basic characterization we know about them)

Taash: 8/10

In another game or the real world I would only rate this a 5 because they have no pillows or addition blankets. however they do have a real bedframe AND it's big enough for 2 which means the they are doing better than 90% of the rest of the Veilguard so this score gets boosted. And while there's not many blankets, there are plenty of braziers around the room to keep you warm, and Taash is probably their own miniature furnace to cuddle up to. Crucially, they also have a whole wheel of cheese next to the bed, which means you don't even have to leave the covers to get a snack after.

Lucanis: 1/10

Oh no. I'm not even going to comment on the pantry angle because everyone else asks him about that to begin with, so this is just about the bed. Unfortunately the bed is a cot made of uneven wooden planks with some blankets on top of it, and is only wide enough for 1. This is because Lucanis hates sleeping and doesn't want to do it, so the less tempting his bed is, the better for him. Unfortunately this means sleepover potential is dreadful and you will have to find alternate solutions. He does at least have another blanket to go over him and one that's presumably being used as a pillow, so, he gets a 1 instead of a 0, but I am still planning on gifting him coupons for a back massage for Satinalia.

Bellara: 4/10

This setup is perfectly fine for sleeping. It's the lighthouse standard little bed couch thing, has a mattress/cushion, is elevated off the floor, has a pillow, and she's got her blankets folded below. Perfectly serviceable for getting a good night's rest which we know Bellara is not because she forgot to sleep again. However, it's very much a one person sized setup. You might be able to cuddle for a while but if one of you unconsciously tries to roll over you are going right to the floor. Ouch.

Lace Harding: 5/10

You might be wondring "why is sleeping on the floor rated higher than bellara's" and the answer is because this means you are not rolling off the bed onto the floor. it's not going to be comfy but we are not ranking comfort here we're ranking sleepover potential. Harding has managed to make this space look homey and the canopy gives the illusion of being in a tent or canopy bed to help with that illusion. There are rugs down on the floor plus the blankets and pillows--we know Harding is used to sleeping on the ground due to her career as a scout, and I'm sure she can scrounge up more blankets to make the cushioning big enough for the both of you. Your back WILL hurt in the morning but you'll get to have a fun night first.

Neve: 3/10

Girl I know you can do better than this. Which means you're not trying to on purpose, so, live your life I guess. I will say this cot IS bounds nicer than Lucanis's--you can see its a stretched canvas or hide on a frame rather than wooden planks, so it will have a little more give. However they are not THAT much comfier which I know having slept on this modern equivalent many times. Neve also apparently has 0 pillows or blankets so you're out of luck there, as well as the problem of it only being wide enough for 1 again. This woman has too many other things going on to think about romance so your Rook is going to be the one improvising on that matter I think.

Davrin: 10/10

Now here is a man who has his life together. Double or queen size mattress, rustic bed frame he probably lovingly carved and assembled himself by hand, and not only are there sheets AND blankets AND pillows, they are are full on matching set and this knight in shining armor dutifully makes the bed every morning. There's also enough pillows for two! While the remains of a giant corpse is hanging above you all night, the spacing of the ribs still gives you lots of room above to manouver, so just don't worry about that. As a bonus you'll probably even have a baby griffon come to cuddle in the night which is such a cute thought we're going to ignore how much worse getting stepped on by a griffon foot would be than even the biggest fattest housecat trying to stand on your stomach at 4:30am. My one criticism of the setup here is that due to the bed's positioning if the person on the inside needs to get up in the night they'll have to awkwardly crawl over the person on the outside, however everyone else's bed situation is so dismal I'm not even going to subtract a point for that. Great work Davrin.

Emmrich: ???/10

Where... does this man sleep. Peepaw I KNOW you can't be sitting in that armchair all night you need your beauty rest!!! There are 0 beds or cots or floor blankets in this man's room. HOW am I supposed to break his pelvis if he has nowhere for us to lie down??? We can't risk that old man's spine on the cobblestone.

Wait... unless. No, surly not. I mean--jk. Unless...? 😳😳😳

is daddy necromancer gonna fuck me on the sacrifice slab... 😳😳😳🥵🥵🥵

Bonus:

Solas 11/10

does not matter where he actually slept bc once my inquisitor Gets Him again they WILL be fucking on top of the piano in front of the mural in his Yearning Room

[pucksandpower]

Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

***

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

[judebellswife]

First Glimpse - Jude Bellingham

— REQUEST status OPEN

— pairing • jude bellingham x fem!reader

— summary • In Jude Bellingham’s much-anticipated documentary series, fans are given an intimate look into the football star’s life, with a special feature introducing his long-time girlfriend—you. Known for keeping a low profile despite dating one of football’s brightest stars, this marks your first public appearance. During a heartwarming interview, you open up about how you and Jude met, even though you already knew who he was, and how you never expected to become his girlfriend. The episode includes candid moments with Jude’s family, particularly his parents and younger brother, Jobe, with a special Thanksgiving Eve gathering where you all share laughter, love, and togetherness. Through your eyes, fans get to see a more personal side of Jude and his close-knit family.

— warnings • none :)

— note • i’ve got like 7-8 request about to write a one-shot with reader featuring in one of jude’s document series. so here it is, i hope you enjoy, happy reading!!

The camera focuses in on a familiar setting for those who follow Jude Bellingham’s career: the cozy, welcoming living room of the Bellingham family home. The walls are adorned with family photos, mementos from Jude’s rise in football, and hints of his personality—trophies and framed jerseys alongside warm family portraits.

But today, the focus is on you. You sit on the sofa, the soft cushions surrounding you as the camera captures your slight nervousness. A small, warm smile crosses your face, and you shift in your seat, unused to the spotlight.

A voice from behind the camera breaks the silence. The interviewer. “So, this is your first time on camera. How are you feeling?”

You chuckle, glancing off-screen for a moment as if looking for support before turning back. “Yeah, it’s definitely new for me. I’m more of a private person, so this is... different, but I’m excited to be part of this.”

There’s an understanding laugh from the interviewer. “For everyone watching, could you introduce yourself?”

You nod and give a small wave. “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Jude’s girlfriend, and, um... yeah, I’m usually not in front of the camera, so this is a bit out of my comfort zone,” you say, your voice laced with both nerves and humor.

The interviewer continues smoothly, keeping the tone light. “So, let’s jump into the good stuff. How did you and Jude meet?”

You pause for a moment, your eyes softening as you think back to the day. “Well, I actually knew who Jude was,” you begin with a smile. “I mean, he’s Jude Bellingham. Anyone who follows football knows who he is. But I never imagined I’d actually end up dating him. That wasn’t even on my radar.”

The camera cuts to a shot of Jude laughing in an earlier part of the documentary, as if he’s recounting the same story, though from his perspective. His grin is wide, and there’s a glint in his eyes that shows how much he enjoys this memory.

You continue, your voice a little more relaxed now as you find your rhythm. “We met through mutual friends at a small gathering. I’d seen him play on TV and heard about him through the grapevine, but when we met in person, he was just... Jude. Not the football star. Just this really laid-back, funny guy.”

“So, did you know right away that you liked him?” the interviewer asks, intrigued.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not at all. I was definitely attracted to him—he’s handsome, obviously—but I didn’t expect anything more than just a friendly conversation that night. I thought it’d be a ‘Hey, nice to meet you,’ and that’d be it.”

There’s a brief pause, and the interviewer presses gently. “So what changed?”

You smile, eyes twinkling with the memory. “Jude changed. We ended up talking the whole night. It was so easy with him, and I realized he wasn’t just this football prodigy everyone sees on the pitch. He’s so much more. Kind, funny, and really grounded. But it was his persistence that surprised me the most. After that night, he didn’t just let it end there. He reached out, wanted to spend time with me, and honestly? I couldn’t resist his charm.”

The camera switches to a series of candid clips, showing you and Jude out and about—him pulling faces to make you laugh, you playfully pushing him away before being pulled into a hug. It’s the kind of chemistry that makes it clear this relationship runs deep, full of mutual adoration and comfort.

“So, how long have you two been together now?” the interviewer asks off-screen.

You think for a second, tilting your head slightly as you calculate. “A little over two years now. Time flies, honestly. It’s been an incredible ride.”

“And what’s it been like, dating someone as high-profile as Jude?”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “It’s definitely been an adjustment. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, especially with how much attention he gets. But we had a conversation early on about keeping our relationship private, at least until we were ready. Jude’s been really protective of that—he’s always made sure I feel comfortable, and I love that about him. But I also understand that he’s a public figure, and being with him means that sometimes, I’ll be seen too. This,” you gesture around at the cameras, “is one of those times.”

The camera cuts to another moment—this time, Jude and you are walking through a park, your hands loosely clasped together. He swings your arm playfully, then stops to pull you into his side, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. It’s easy, intimate, and full of warmth.

“Speaking of being seen,” the interviewer continues, “how does it feel to finally share a bit of your relationship with the world?”

You laugh softly. “It’s exciting, I guess. People have always been curious, but I’ve been pretty firm about staying out of the spotlight. I’m not someone who thrives on attention like Jude does. But it’s nice to be able to show this part of his life. People know him as the footballer, but they don’t really see the person behind all of that. I’m happy to share a little bit of what we have, because it’s special.”

The camera pans across the Bellingham household, warm and inviting with the sounds of family chatter filling the air. Thanksgiving Eve at the Bellingham’s is a full house. Jude’s dad, Mark, is in the living room, laughing loudly with Jobe and Jude as they discuss football, while his mom, Denise, is in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepares the family meal.

The lens of the camera focuses on you for a moment. You’re helping Denise chop vegetables, your hands moving a little slower than hers but with focus, and you share a comfortable conversation. A nervous laugh escapes you as you attempt to cut the vegetables to her standard.

“Are you sure I’m doing this right?” you ask, holding up an unevenly chopped carrot with a teasing smile. “It doesn’t look quite like yours.”

Denise glances over and laughs softly, reaching out to gently touch your arm in reassurance. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing just fine,” she says, her voice full of warmth. “Trust me, my first Thanksgiving wasn’t perfect either. And honestly, even if it’s a bit wonky, it’s still going to taste amazing.”

Her words, her tone—there’s something deeply maternal in the way Denise speaks to you. It’s as if you’re already a part of the family, not just Jude’s girlfriend, but someone she holds close to her heart. You smile at her gratefully, feeling that familiar warmth whenever you’re around her.

Denise’s attention turns fully to you now, setting down her wooden spoon and wiping her hands on a towel before stepping closer. “You know,” she begins, her voice soft and kind, “I’ve always thought of you like a daughter. You’re such a big part of Jude’s life, but you’ve also become such an important part of ours too.”

You look at her, slightly taken aback by the depth of her words. Your heart swells in your chest, not expecting the surge of emotion. “That means the world to me, Denise,” you say, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ve always felt so welcomed here. You and Mark, and even Jobe—you’ve all made me feel like part of the family from day one.”

Denise steps forward, enveloping you in a gentle but tight hug, the kind that only a mother could give. “That’s because you are family,” she whispers against your shoulder. “We love you like one of our own.”

You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into her embrace, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. In this family, you’ve found something special—something you didn’t expect to have when you first started dating Jude. It’s not just a relationship with him; it’s a bond with the people who raised him, who made him the person you love so deeply.

As you pull away, Denise gives you a warm smile, her eyes soft with affection. “Jude’s a lucky man,” she says, glancing toward the living room where Jude is seated. “But then again, I think we’re all lucky to have you around.”

You chuckle softly, still holding onto the warm feeling in your chest. “I’m the lucky one. Jude’s incredible, and you’ve all been nothing but wonderful.”

Denise’s eyes twinkle as she leans in conspiratorially. “He’s a handful sometimes, though, isn’t he?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Oh, definitely. But I love him all the more for it.”

Denise shakes her head, her smile growing wider. “Good, because he needs someone like you to keep him in check.”

There’s a shared understanding between the two of you, the kind that goes beyond words. Denise pats your hand and returns to stirring the pot, the air between you filled with warmth and affection. It’s a small moment, but one that fills your heart, making you realize just how deeply connected you’ve become to Jude’s family.

The scene transitions to the dining room, where the entire family is gathered around the table. Mark is telling a story, his booming laugh punctuating the conversation as Jobe makes a playful remark. Jude sits beside you, his arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he smiles and laughs along with his family.

“Jobe, pass the bread,” Jude says, reaching across the table with a grin.

Jobe rolls his eyes dramatically but tosses the basket of bread to his brother. “There you go, Mr. Superstar.”

You nudge Jude with your elbow as he catches the bread. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t start charging for autographs at family dinners.”

Jude grins, leaning in closer to you. “Oh, I’d give you an autograph for free,” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You roll your eyes but smile, and as Jude reaches for his plate, Denise catches your eye from across the table. She gives you a wink, as if to say, See what I mean? A handful.

The love and ease that fills the room is palpable. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. This family has welcomed you, loved you, and made you one of their own, and tonight is a perfect reflection of that.

The camera lingers on the scene—Jude’s hand resting on your shoulder, Denise watching her sons with pride, and you laughing along with them, fully immersed in the warmth of their family dynamic.

As the evening winds down, and dessert is served, Jude’s dad, Mark, stands up, raising a glass. “I think we all know what I’m about to say,” he begins with a grin. “But this Thanksgiving, I just want to take a moment to say how grateful we all are. Grateful for family, for good health, and, of course, for the wonderful woman who’s come into our lives and made our son the happiest he’s ever been.”

You blink, taken aback by the sudden toast, your eyes glancing around the table. Denise smiles warmly at you, her eyes filled with affection, and Jude leans closer, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“To Y/N,” Mark says, raising his glass higher. “Welcome to the family. Officially.”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement as everyone raises their glasses, and you feel your throat tighten with emotion. It’s not just words—it’s a promise. A declaration that you belong here, with them.

As everyone takes a sip, Jude leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I told you they love you.”

You turn to him, your heart full. “And I love them.”

The camera captures the final moments of the evening—the plates scattered with crumbs, the soft murmur of conversation as everyone winds down, and the love that fills the room. The bond between you and Jude has always been special, but tonight, it’s clear that your relationship extends beyond just the two of you. You’ve found a home with his family, and they’ve found a place in your heart.

As the screen fades to black, the soft hum of background music plays, leaving the viewers with a sense of warmth and love, the credits rolling as the final glimpse of your story is shared with the world.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hawk x sensitive!reader where even after he becomes all "tough" and "badass" he's still gentle with reader. I just need fluff and everything is so sickly sweet like I want my teeth to rot.

- ♠️

(again i forgot which one it was)

YES OMG ☹️☹️☹️☹️ ; I'm screaming and crying were gonna fight wtf ; thank u for requesting some cobra kai stuff love u bae ; also sorry ab this cause I had no idea what to do here

HAWK MOSKOWITZ ; the one i love

summary ; while hawk is off becoming mean and badass, he's still nice to you, knowing you're kind of sensitive, and he doesn't want to lose his s/o

warnings ; language, talk of physical violence

track ; dedicated to the one i love, the mamas & the papas

word count ; 849

masterlist

Eli, these past few months, had changed. A lot. You didn't know whether you liked it or not either. He wasn't even Eli anymore, he was Hawk.

He'd taken on karate, got a new haircut, and completely changed his demeanor and personality. You couldn't lie, he looked cool, especially while showing off his moves, but what wasn't cool was him getting into unnecessary drama.

You'd seen some things online, though you tend not to stick around for any of it. You were caught up by Eli himself, considering you did online school. The bullying from Sam LaRusso and her friends had gotten too bad long ago, forcing you to hide away for the rest of your high school career.

You considered this transition good for Eli, as he was turning a new page in his story. He was able to defend himself, he was confident, and he wasn't being bullied anymore. But, at the same time, he was unrecognizable.

It wasn't in a bad way, not yet, at least. But this "Hawk" guy, wasn't your boyfriend, Eli. You fell into the arms of Eli Moskowitz, not Hawk.

Thankfully, he knew how to retain his relationship. Thank God his standards didn't raise, nor did his ego, as he changed.

You were slightly sensitive, you'd say, kind of emotional, mentally thin, maybe.

You had a bad day, though. That's all that mattered in this second.

You were trying to deep clean your room because it was nasty, and you were already mad. Nothing was working how you wanted it to. Your grades were dropping because you were becoming depressed and unmotivated, and you just wanted to see your boyfriend again. But of course, he'd been busy with karate and working out.

You yell out of pure frustration as you throw a pillow across the room toward your door before crashing onto your bed.

"Ow"

You quickly look up to see Eli standing in your doorway, having been hit by that pillow.

"Fuck, sorry" You mumble, proceeding to hide your face in another pillow that lays on your bed.

He slowly and cautiously steps in your room, picking up the thrown cushion. "What's wrong?"

"...Bad day"

He frowns, "What's wrong?"

You look up at him, spiky hair immediately catching your attention. "Can you wash out the gel before talking to me? You're intimidating looking like a badass"

He chuckles with a nod, "Yeah, I'll be right back"

You couldn't stand the mohawk. It intimidated you, like you were gonna be the next victim of his karate moves. He understood as you'd been honest about it long ago, and would often wash out his hair in the sink and use a towel to then dry his hair.

Now, his roots were dark brown, while the midsection to ends were bright blue. You'd helped him dye it, the reasoning why the bathroom sink was just barely stained with blue in the bowl.

He re-enters the room, his hair now damp, but un-styled. He sits on the bed beside you, allowing you to sit in silence with a pillow pressed against your face.

You slowly pull it away, looking up at him. You flop your back onto your mattress, staring at the ceiling.

"What's up?" He asks, his eyes gazing upon your tired and stressed expression.

You shrug, sitting up. "I hate online school, I have essentially no friends or hobbies, my proctors are shoving thirty assignments on me while I'm depressed and I need to do a million fucking other things-"

He quickly pulls you into a hug, silencing you. You accept his hug, arms draped around his shoulders as you rest your head on one of his shoulders. He does the same for you, his arms slung around your torso instead.

You groan, hiding your face from the light.

He lightly rubs your back, just trying to show you some comfort.

He speaks up after a solid minute of silence, letting you calm yourself down. "Do you want to get into karate? Or at least meet my friends? A lot of them would really like to meet you"

You shrug, unsure.

"It's okay if you don't want to"

You shrug again, your words mumbled from between his shoulder. "What if they don't like me cause I'm not like them?"

He smiles, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Trust me, they're not gonna make fun of you or not like you in any way unless you give them a reason. And that in itself is pretty much impossible"

You nod, "Thanks"

"Is there any way I can help with your school stuff? What needs done? What can I do for you?"

"Calm down, Eli. I'll be fine. It's just when there's a lot on my mind, I stress out for no reason I guess. Like, I know everything'll be okay but... I dunno" You shrug, pulling away from his arms. "But thank you"

He nods, laying down on the bed beside you. "You tired? I am"

You nod with a smile, pulling him close to cuddle with him.

"Agh- your grip is insane!"

"Sorry"

[luveline]

Helllloooo :) if at all possible, could I request a fic for when stripper!reader realizes that Spencer actually like-likes her? Maybe he finally makes a real move or plans a “fancy” date to show her how much she means to him? She definitely wouldn’t believe him at first/think she deserves it, but if it could be a happy ending, I’d appreciate it so much. 🥺🥺

🐈‍⬛ thank youuuu

ty for requesting <3 fem

He smells like coffee. 

"Hi!" you say, bending under the weight of his hug. 

"What are you," —he drags his face against your cheek— "doing here, I thought you were," —his hand cups your neck as he pulls away— "going to Moira's for the weekend?" 

"You sound so happy," you say, nonplussed. 

"Yeah I'm happy. Do you wanna stay over? We can go to the movies, or we can get takeout, we can do both." Spencer beams at you. "Sorry, I'm– I'm rushing. I'm just happy. Is everything okay? What happened to house sitting?" 

"Oh, nothing, she missed her flight," you say. "Can I come in?" 

Spencer ushers you inside. His apartment is cleaner than usual. He's actually had time to clean, it seems, the faint scent of disinfectant alive in the kitchen and fresh laundry folded on the table behind the couch. He follows your eyes. "I did the stuff you left, last time. But I ended up with like, three pairs of your socks? How did that happen?" 

"You didn't have to." 

"Why wouldn't I?" He goes to walk off but stops, twisting around to give you another hug from the side. "Tea?" 

Your face feels hot. "Yes, please." 

Spencer takes to the kitchen to make tea, one of your shared routines. He grabs the kettle from the cabinet, two mugs, and two teabags. You don't know why you stay in the living room as he fills the kettle. He's putting it on the stove when he says, "Oh, hey, I got you, uh– you liked my soap, right? The chamomile? So I got you some. It's in my room, and I got you some of your chocolates from Leaven." 

"You did?" 

You fail to hide your excitement. Spencer waves you away without looking. "They're with the soap."  

You laugh to yourself, leaning down to pull your sneakers off of your heels. You leave them by the couch and slip over the hardwood into his room, where your promised soap and chocolate sit on one of his desks. He calls them your chocolates, but you only ever tried them because he saw you looking at them one time and bought them as a surprise. You've been hooked on them ever since. 

You're thinking about what joke you can make to hear him laugh. Something on the nose about him ruining your future career aspirations or a flirty nothing, maybe. You just want me to fall out of shape so I can't work. 

The suitcase on the bed distracts you. Open, half packed. 

"Are you going somewhere?" you ask him, chocolates and soap held loosely to your stomach. 

Spencer takes the kettle off of the heat, bringing it to the two mugs to top them one at a time. "What?" 

"Your suitcase?" 

His shoulders tighten just so. "Well, there's this convention happening but I hate driving in the dark, so I figured I'd stay up there." 

"When, tonight?" 

"Yeah." He picks up the mugs and shoots you a smile. "But obviously I'm not going now." 

Obviously? Spencer rounds the side of the couch to sit down, murmuring for you to come and sit with him. You follow his order without question, setting yourself on the couch cushion beside him, and find there's little resistance in you to leave space between your thighs. He leans into you as soon as he's able and hands you your mug. 

There's something in his eyes. A warmth. A real affection. "I'd definitely rather be with you here than without you there. Even if there's a guest speaker who's actually managed to split shared arteries between conjoined twins while they're still in the womb." 

"You're interested in that stuff?" 

"Just for fun." He doesn't drink his tea. He probably didn't want any, a coffee mug already on the table, but he always makes two cups. You think it might be so you don't feel like you're an imposition. He's that special brand of thoughtful. 

"Can I ask you something?" you ask, your heartbeat a tangible thump under your skin. It's a silly question guided by a stupid thought, but you have to ask. You've always wanted to see other people's hands, so to speak, uncomfortable with the unknown. 

"Anything." 

You've exposed the most private parts of you and still it's hard to be vulnerable. It's easier knowing you're with Spencer, but not easy. "Do you like me?" 

Spencer doesn't do either of you the disservice of pretending he doesn't know what you mean. His voice is measured but shyness creeps in, an almost questioning lilt to his words as he says, "Well, yeah. I thought you already knew that." 

"I thought you… appreciated the aesthetic of me." 

"I do." He looks at your forehead rather than your eyes. "You know you're pretty, and your dancing, it's– it's pretty too. I think you're beautiful, but that's really not the only thing about you. You've been remarkably easy to fall for." 

His cheeks are suddenly red. A blotchy staining under his cheekbones and up over the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't lie, but the blush cements that he's telling the truth. Spencer really, truly likes you, enough to buy you the gifts that sit in your lap and to cancel trips. He'd rather stay home with you and drink tea on the couch than be anywhere else. 

"Spence, if you think it was easy for you, you have no idea what it's been like for me," you say quietly. That draws his eyeline back to your face. You smile at him gently. "No idea." 

He puts his mug down on the table to hug you. "Careful of your tea," he says, his smile audible.

You hug his arm to your chest with one hand. When he kisses the side of your head, you're pleasantly shocked. 

"I didn't realise," you say. "Sorry, Spence, I never–" Never thought you'd like me like that. "I didn't know." 

"I was just waiting for you to catch up." 

[angelicsoka]

SEE YOU LATER, q. hughes

word count | 1.3k

pairings | quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary | in which quinn and his high school sweetheart break up due to her fear of holding him back, only to meet again five years later.

warnings | not proofread, no use of "y/n". lowercase intended. use of the name “ellie”. this is a work of fiction, i am by no means saying this is how they act in real life.

a/n | i know i’ve already posted today but i thought i would post this as well! i changed the plot a little bit from when i posted the draft reveal, but here it is! i lowkey hate this but i finally had a surge of motivation.

quinn hughes was in love; something he thought he wouldn’t feel until he was settled in his career. a dedicated hockey player, quinn didn’t pursue love or relationships. that was until he met her. she was the sun to his moon, his everything. everyone warned him about falling in love, especially at his age and with his future, but quinn hughes ignored it all.

the night it all fell apart was the night quinn hughes stopped believing in love. it was the night before he was set to leave for dallas, texas for the 2018 draft. the couple had just finished the cupcakes she had made and were now watching the stars; well she was, quinn’s eyes were trained on her face, following the features he had come to memorize. “quinny, you’re staring.” she giggled, turning to face him. 

“i can’t help it, i’ve got the most beautiful girl in the world by my side, why wouldn’t i be staring?” this enticed another laugh from her, quinn smiling at the way her face lit up. 

“i wish we could stay here forever.” she spoke after a few minutes of silence, unable to look at quinn. she felt guilty for what she was about to do, but it was the right thing to do. 

“come with me.” the statement shocked her, and apparently quinn as well by the look on his face. he shook off the shock before continuing: “i want you by my side.”

“quinny…” she trailed off, quinn sitting up. she sat up as well, still avoiding looking at him.

“don’t do this. please.” she wiped a stray tear, finally looking to him. “please.”

“i’m sorry, quinn. but i will only hold you back.” quinn’s eyes filled with tears, but he refused to let them fall. “you know it's true.”

“no, no it's not!” 

“quinn, we can still be friends! and maybe when you’re settled in your career and if we aren’t in relationships, we could try this again.” quinn shook his head, a tear running down his cheek. she reached over and wiped it, her hand lingering for a moment. “i love you, but this is for the best.”

now, it had been almost five years since quinn had seen his ex. he hadn’t had a serious relationship since, instead focusing on his career. now, the season was over and quinn was back in michigan for summer with his brothers and friends.

“dude, i’m hungry…” luke groaned as he sprawled out on the couch. beside him, quinn sat his phone on the cushion, looking to his youngest brother.

“go get something to eat then.” he said, luke groaning once more.

“nobody will go with me to the diner and i will not go by myself. i don’t need people thinking i’m a loner.” quinn huffed out a laugh at his statement.

“i think it’s a little late for that.” luke sat up, punching him in the shoulder. “fine, i’ll go, but you’re buying.” luke jumped up, grabbing the car keys.

“let's go!” 

the ride to the diner was short, luke practically jumping out of the car before it was even at a complete stop. “dude, what's the rush?” quinn questioned, following him into the diner. 

“i’m hungry!” quinn rolled his eyes, taking a seat across from luke in the booth he had chosen. quinn’s eyes were busy scanning the menu when their waitress came over.

“hello, how you guys doing today?” quinn nearly dropped the menu, his eyes shooting up to meet her’s. he could recognize that voice anywhere. “quinn?” her voice caught in her throat, her eyes wide. 

“uh, hey.” he coughed, his cheeks bright red. luke watched wide eyed at the interaction, his eyes widening even more when a little girl tugged at her shirt.

“mama?” now it was her turn to blush, turning to the little girl.

“baby, go sit down, i’ll be over in a minute.” quinn’s mouth dropped open momentarily, looking to luke who held the same expression. “uh, sorry about that. what can i get you to drink?” after taking their drink order, she hurried off to the table that the little girl sat at. 

“dude, that kid kinda looks like you.” luke said, glaring at quinn after he kicked him.

“luke, please shut the fuck up.” luke shrugged, his eyes shooting from the menu to the little girl. she came back with their drinks, quickly taking their orders. she kept the interaction short, wanting to avoid them all together. it was her fault that they lost contact and she was the one who broke up with him. all her feelings resurfaced the moment she made eye contact with him, bringing up the need for a cigarette. she kissed the little girl’s head, grabbing her pack from her bag and stepping out to take a couple drags.

quinn watched as she hurried out, a sudden urge of confidence filled him, and before he knew it he was following her out. “can we talk?” he asked, hiding his surprise by his own confidence. 

“about what?” she asked, her eyes following the cars that sped by. she took a drag from her cigarette, hoping this would be over soon.

“you know what.” quinn was angry. angry they had lost contact, angry that she broke it off. “is she mine?” she sighed, her head dropping. she knew it would come back to bite her in the ass eventually, she just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

“yes.” she spoke no louder than a whisper but quinn heard her loud and clear. “i’m sorry–”

“don’t– i don’t want an apology cause i know you don’t mean it. why? why would you keep something so important to yourself? why wouldn’t you tell me? you know i would’ve stepped up, been there for you both–”

“that's exactly why, quinn! you would be so willing to drop everything, to end your career for us, for me. i didn’t want that, i couldn’t live with myself if that had happened! you can hate me for that, i don’t care, but you will not sacrifice your career to be a part of her life.” she wiped a stray tear, quinn staying quiet. “i will not stop you from being a part of her life, and i won’t force you either. i understand if you choose not to be around. i don’t blame you.”

“of course i want to be around.” quinn had tried to maintain eye contact, his eyes examining her face. he meant what he said, he wanted to be a part of his daughter’s life. he wanted to be a part of her life. 

“quinn, please.” she looked at him, “don’t feel like you need to do this. we are fine on our own.”

“i’m serious.” he held a straight face, “i want to be a part of both of your lives.” this cracked a smile on her face. she tried to hide it, dipping her head toward the ground. she put the cigarette out, flicking the butt. “when’s your shift over?”

“about an hour. would you like to meet her?” she began to walk back into the diner, quinn nodding as he followed. “ellie is kind of shy, you just have to be patient.” quinn shuffled in behind her, a smile gracing their faces at the sight of luke and ellie eating and coloring.

“oh hey, quinn! ellie was just showing me her art. i think she might be the next picasso!” quinn shared a look with his ex, a laugh bubbling up. he looked at the scribbles on the paper, a proud look on ellie’s face. 

quinn watched as his youngest brother happily colored with his daughter, a content smile on his face. he may have been thrown into a whole new world, but he could definitely get used to this.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter One

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"! Let's pretend Rafe, Sarah, and John B. had a good relationship in this one, okay?

Masterlist: Here

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the shrill ring cutting through the early evening quiet. You were in the middle of folding laundry, your small apartment illuminated by the fading sunlight streaming through the windows. It was a peaceful, mundane moment—until it wasn’t.

You wiped your hands on a towel before glancing at the screen. Unknown Number. Normally, you’d let it go to voicemail, but something about the pit forming in your stomach made you swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

“Is this [Y/N]?” a man’s voice asked, calm but with an edge that made your chest tighten.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s calling?”

“This is Officer Langley with the Outer Banks Police Department. I... I’m afraid I have some difficult news.”

The world around you seemed to blur. You clutched the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white. “What happened?”

“There’s been an accident,” he said. “Sarah Cameron and John B. Routledge were involved in a car collision earlier this evening. Neither survived. You were one of their emergency contact.”

The words didn’t make sense. They felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else’s story. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled to the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“What about Willa, the daughter?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and then, “She’s unharmed. The baby was with a sitter at the time. But there’s... another matter we need to discuss.”

You barely heard the rest of his explanation, your mind spinning with the weight of what he’d just told you. Sarah and John B. were gone. Gone.

When the officer mentioned the will, your thoughts screeched to a halt. “I don’t understand,” you said, your voice hoarse. “What do you mean ‘co-guardian’?”

“They named you and Rafe Cameron, her brother, as Willa’s legal guardians,” the officer repeated.

The line went quiet as you tried to process the impossibility of his words. Rafe Cameron? The same Rafe who couldn’t string together a week of good decisions if his life depended on it?

“Is... is he aware of this?” you managed.

“We’ve been trying to reach him. He’s next on my list.”

As if on cue, somewhere across town, Rafe Cameron was staring at his own buzzing phone with a mix of irritation and curiosity. The caller ID was unfamiliar, and he let it ring a few extra times before finally swiping to answer.

“Who is this?” he barked, already annoyed.

“Mr. Cameron, this is Officer Langley with the Outer Banks Police Department. I need to inform you—”

“If this is about the stupid noise complaint, I wasn’t even here last night,” Rafe interrupted, pacing his living room.

“It’s not about that.” The officer’s tone was grave, and Rafe froze mid-step.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been an accident. Your sister, Sarah, and her partner, John B., were involved in a fatal car crash earlier this evening.”

Rafe’s mouth went dry. He sank onto the edge of the couch, gripping the phone so tightly it felt like it might crack. “What... what do you mean, ‘fatal’?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the officer continued, his voice gentle. “They didn’t survive the collision.”

Rafe’s world tilted. His first instinct was disbelief—this had to be a mistake. But the silence that followed the officer’s words told him otherwise.

“And the baby?” Rafe asked after a long pause, his voice low and strained.

“Willa is safe. She wasn’t with them during the accident,” the officer said. “But there’s something else. According to their will, you and Ms. [Y/N] are named as her co-guardians.”

“What?” Rafe snapped, his disbelief quickly giving way to anger. “That can’t be right. Why would they do that?”

“You’ll need to meet with us to discuss the next steps,” the officer said. “I’ll send over the details.”

Rafe barely heard the rest of the conversation before the call ended. He dropped the phone onto the couch beside him, running both hands through his hair as his mind raced.

Co-guardian? With her?

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Rafe. His message was short and sharp:

“We need to talk. Now.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next few hours blurred into a painful haze. You and Rafe found yourselves sitting in the cramped office of the Outer Banks Police Department, a thin folder containing Sarah and John B.'s will resting on the table between you.

The room smelled of coffee and stale air, and the fluorescent lighting above only made everything feel more surreal. You glanced at Rafe from the corner of your eye. He was stiff in the chair beside you, his jaw clenched, eyes red-rimmed but steely.

Officer Langley sat across from you, his expression carefully neutral. Beside him was a lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman in a navy suit who looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“The will is clear,” the lawyer said, her tone crisp and no-nonsense. “Ms. [Y/N] and Mr. Cameron are the appointed co-guardians of Willa Routledge. In the event of Sarah Cameron and John B. Routledge’s passing, the two of you are to assume all parental responsibilities.”

Rafe let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s great. But let’s be real, you think either of us is qualified to raise a kid?”

“You don’t have a choice,” the lawyer replied without missing a beat. “Unless you want to contest the will, which would result in Willa being placed in temporary foster care until the matter is resolved.”

“No,” you said immediately, your voice firmer than you expected. “That’s not happening.”

Rafe shot you a glance, his eyes narrowing. “And what exactly do you think is going to happen here? You think we’re just gonna team up and play house?”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. “This isn’t about us, Rafe. It’s about Willa. She needs stability, and we’re all she’s got.”

Rafe rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. But don’t expect me to know what the hell I’m doing.”

The lawyer nodded, seemingly satisfied. “We’ll arrange for a formal meeting in a few days to finalize the transfer of guardianship. For now, Willa will remain with her current sitter until the two of you are ready to take her home.”

The word home hung heavy in the air, an impossible concept when everything felt so fractured.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The hours that followed were a whirlwind. After leaving the police department, you and Rafe were directed to the funeral home to begin arrangements for Sarah and John B.’s services.

Rafe took the lead, though it was clear the responsibility weighed on him. He stood stiffly in front of the funeral director, nodding silently as they walked through options for caskets, flowers, and the service itself.

“They’d want it simple,” Rafe muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Nothing flashy. Just... something that feels like them.”

You could see the cracks forming in his composure, the grief seeping through despite his best efforts to hold it together.

“I’ll handle the guest list,” you offered softly, hoping to lighten his load in any way you could.

He nodded but didn’t look at you. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice tight.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later, you found yourself sitting in the corner of the funeral home’s waiting area, scrolling through your phone to contact people who needed to know. It was an exhausting task, one that made the reality of the situation sink deeper with every call.

Rafe was pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. From the snippets of his conversation, you guessed he was calling his father, Ward.

“No, Dad, I’ve got it under control,” Rafe said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I don’t need you coming down here and making it about you. Just... send what you need to send and stay out of it.”

The conversation ended with Rafe tossing his phone onto a nearby chair and sitting down heavily. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a physical force.

“She didn’t deserve this,” Rafe said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked over at him, surprised by the rawness in his tone. His head was in his hands, and for the first time, he looked utterly broken.

“No,” you agreed softly. “She didn’t. Neither of them did.”

Rafe didn’t respond, and you didn’t push. Grief was a strange, solitary thing, and you knew better than to try to force him to share it.

But as you sat there in the quiet, Willa’s face flashed in your mind—those wide, innocent eyes that didn’t yet understand what she’d lost. And you realized that no matter how fractured things were between you and Rafe, you’d have to find a way to piece them together. For her.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning of the funeral was gray and cold, the sky heavy with clouds that mirrored the weight in your chest. The Outer Banks, usually vibrant and alive, seemed subdued, as if the island itself were mourning.

You stood at the back of the small church, clutching Willa to your chest. She was dressed in a tiny black dress that Sarah had once bought “just in case,” her soft curls pinned back with a white bow. She didn’t understand what was happening, her chubby hands reaching for your necklace as if this were just another day.

But it wasn’t.

The pews were packed with people from all corners of the island—friends, family, neighbors, even people who barely knew Sarah and John B. Everyone had come to say goodbye.

At the front of the church, two caskets stood side by side, draped in simple white flowers. The sight of them made your stomach churn, a wave of nausea rolling over you as the reality hit again. They were gone.

Rafe sat in the front row, his shoulders hunched, his hands gripping the edges of the pew. He was flanked by Ward and Rose, both of whom looked perfectly composed, their grief hidden behind practiced masks. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger toward them—toward Ward, especially. How could he sit there so calm when Sarah, his daughter, was gone?

The service began with soft hymns, the sound of the organ filling the air. The pastor spoke of love, loss, and legacy, his voice steady but kind. He shared stories of Sarah’s infectious smile and John B.’s unyielding spirit, painting a picture of the lives they’d led and the love they’d left behind.

When it came time for eulogies, Rafe surprised you by standing. He adjusted his tie awkwardly, clearing his throat as he approached the podium.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring out at the crowd, his usual bravado nowhere to be found.

“Sarah wasn’t just my sister,” he began, his voice hoarse. “She was my anchor. She kept me grounded, even when I didn’t deserve it. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

He paused, his eyes glistening. “And John B.? He was... he was family. He took care of Sarah, made her happy in a way I couldn’t. He was my brother, even if I never said it out loud.”

His voice cracked, and he gripped the edges of the podium tightly, trying to steady himself. “They didn’t deserve this. They had so much left to give. But... they left us Willa. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure she knows how amazing her parents were.”

Rafe stepped back, his head bowed, and you felt an unexpected lump rise in your throat. For all his flaws, his grief was real, and it was impossible not to feel the depth of his pain.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After the service, the crowd filtered out to the cemetery, where Sarah and John B. would be laid to rest. The air was heavy with the sound of muffled sobs and the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees.

You stood a little apart from the others, bouncing Willa gently to keep her calm. Rafe was nearby, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, his expression unreadable.

As the caskets were lowered into the ground, you felt an ache so deep it seemed to hollow you out. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t wipe them away. Grief deserved space, and today, there was nothing to do but let it exist.

When the ceremony ended, Rafe approached you, his face pale and drawn. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing to Willa.

“Can I hold her?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, carefully passing her over. She went willingly, her small hands gripping the lapels of his coat. For a moment, Rafe just stared at her, his features softening in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“She looks like Sarah,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“She does,” you agreed, watching as Willa rested her head against his chest.

In that moment, standing beside the fresh graves of the people you both loved, it became clear that nothing about this would be easy. But as you looked at Rafe holding Willa, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was hope. For her, you would find a way.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours after the funeral, the weight of the day still hung heavy in the air as you and Rafe sat in the conference room of the law office. The small table between you seemed to represent the chasm that had always existed between you two—now more evident than ever.

The lawyers—two of them now, both stern-faced and clearly used to handling the messier sides of life—sat across from you, speaking in professional tones about the formalities. Child services was represented by a no-nonsense woman in her mid-forties who seemed to take notes every time either of you shifted in your seat.

Willa, still in your arms, had drifted off to sleep, her tiny breath soft against your chest. She had no idea that her life was being turned upside down today.

“Everything seems to be in order,” one of the lawyers said, flipping through the paperwork in front of him. “Guardianship has been transferred to both of you as per the will, and now, we just need to finalize arrangements for Willa’s immediate care.”

Rafe, who had been largely silent up until this point, suddenly leaned forward. His sharp eyes met the lawyer’s, and his jaw tightened as he spoke.

“We’ll be taking Willa home with us today. Both of us,” he said firmly, his tone brokering no argument.

The child services worker, Ms. Anderson, looked up from her notepad, her brow furrowed. “Mr. Cameron, I understand the circumstances, but we would like to ensure that both of you are prepared for the responsibility of guardianship. Willa’s safety and well-being are paramount. It’s important to assess—”

“I’m prepared,” Rafe cut her off, his voice cold and final. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you. She stays with me.”

The room went quiet for a beat as Ms. Anderson studied him. You could see the flicker of concern in her eyes as she turned to you, silently asking for your input.

You hesitated. Part of you was reluctant to let Willa stay in that house, with Rafe—the person who had been nothing but trouble for years. But the other part of you knew that, for better or worse, you didn’t have many options. You were in this with him now, and if he was willing to take on that responsibility, you couldn’t exactly argue against it.

“She’ll stay with me, too,” you added softly, catching Rafe’s eye. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to let her stay alone with you, not yet.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened again, but this time, there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes. A flicker of understanding. “Fine. We’ll take her. But we’re doing this together. It’s not just your decision, [Y/N].”

You didn’t argue with him. He was right. This wasn’t just your choice anymore. You shared the responsibility, whether you liked it or not.

Ms. Anderson nodded, taking notes. “We’ll have to conduct an assessment in the next few days, and I’ll be following up regularly. But for now, if both of you are in agreement, Willa can go with you.”

Rafe stood abruptly, crossing the room and grabbing the folder of documents from the lawyer’s desk. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

As he turned to leave, the lawyer called after him. “Mr. Cameron, please ensure that you maintain contact with child services for further evaluations.”

Rafe gave a terse nod without looking back.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive to the Cameron estate was a tense one, the silence thick with unspoken thoughts. You sat in the passenger seat, holding Willa close, her tiny body pressed against you as she slept. Rafe drove, his grip on the steering wheel tight as he focused on the road, the sound of the engine and the occasional rustle of Willa’s breath filling the quiet.

When you pulled up to the house, it felt like a different world. The sprawling estate loomed ahead, the grand, cold structure seeming to mock the chaos of the day. You could feel the heaviness of the house before you even stepped inside. It was too big, too empty. It had always been a symbol of something Rafe wanted, something that didn’t fit with the life you’d grown up with.

But now, it was where Willa was going to stay.

“Welcome home,” Rafe muttered as he parked the car and cut the engine.

You weren’t sure if he meant it sarcastically, or if there was something real underneath the bitterness.

He led the way up the stone steps, unlocking the front door with a swipe of his key. The house felt colder inside, and Willa shifted in your arms as the air conditioned chill wrapped around you. Rafe glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving her with you alone,” you said firmly, setting Willa down into the nearby high chair as you followed him further into the house. “You’re going to need help. You’re not capable of just doing this on your own.”

Rafe gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no kidding. I never said I was. But if she’s gonna be here, she’s staying in this house. So you’ll just have to suck it up.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel in this house with him—this house that was too much like a battlefield, and not enough like a home. But there was no escaping it now. You were stuck here together, as guardians. You took a deep breath and tried not to let the tension eat away at you.

For Willa.

"She’s still a baby," you murmured, brushing a stray curl from Willa’s face. "This isn’t about us. We need to figure it out for her."

Rafe didn’t respond, but he didn’t argue, either. He just stood there, watching you with that same unreadable look he always had. But for the first time, there was a sliver of uncertainty behind it.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was a chance, however small, that you and Rafe might actually pull this off.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[planetpedri]

hector fort who loves teasing reader over anything and everything! they can b already dating or just friends ^_^

Lucky for you — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: An ice cream hang out with your best friend that turns into something much more, with a side of teasing.

Word count: 900

Disclaimer/s: fluff + teasing via Héctor!

A/N: i don’t even want to talk abt how i’ve had this in my drafts since August..

The summer heat wrapped around your body comfortably. You wore a pink summer dress that gave you just enough cover without making you sweat uncontrollably. A bonus was the ice cream that kept your mouth and hands cold, further lessening your body temperature.

Across the table from you sat Héctor, your best friend. He had the day off and you two hadn’t seen each other a lot recently, so he figured it’d be a good day to take you out in the city.

You met at your favorite ice cream parlor that had a balcony overlooking the ocean. Héctor was in the middle of telling you something Lamine had told him at practice, adorning a wide smile that reached his eyes as he laughed.

You could hardly comprehend what he was telling you, if you were being completely honest. Somehow, your attention span had disappeared, your soul focus being on Héctor’s smile.

The teen noticed the second you’d fallen into a daze. You’d went from complete sentences, to simple hums, nods, and two worded responses. His lips pull into a teasing smile, “and then I bought an elephant and rode it off into the sunset.”

You hum, nodding your head slowly, then you blink. Wait, huh? “What?” Your spoon clangs into the near empty bowl of ice cream.

“Am I that handsome you just opt out of listening to a very interesting story?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do not mind at all.”

Exhaling slowly, you roll your eyes. “Shut up. I was just thinking.” Wow! Very convincing. Even you didn’t believe that would throw him off.

“About me, obviously.” Héctor grins. “Or, what else could you possibly be thinking about? Hm?”

Your tongue darts out to chase your lips, tasting the excess ice cream on it. “No. I was thinking about…” You trail off, brain suddenly blank of excuses. “Why don’t you go ahead and shove your mouth full of ice cream and leave me alone, sound good?”

Héctor tsk’s, his tongue clicking against the top of his mouth. “Nuh-uh! Come on, admit it, you were admiring how good I look.”

Suddenly, the heat of the summer sun was getting to you. Your face flushes red, your hands grow clammy. Definitely the sun, not what your best friend had just said. It was totally the suns fault. “You’re insufferable. Remind me why i’m friends with you?”

The curly haired boy cocks his head to the side, “i’ve been wondering the same thing.” He is quick to add, “why we’re just friends, that is.”

Ohhhh…

Oh that got you.

“Very funny.” You stutter out, “so! Ice cream? How is it?” That had to be the most pathetic attempt at saving yourself.

Héctor’s face grows a bit more serious, though it was still full of humor. “Quit deflecting. I’m serious! Why are we friends, just friends?”

In that moment, your ice cream became the most interesting thing in the world. You play with the melting ice cream nervously. “Héctor…” You sigh, “don’t say things like that.”

Héctor leans back on the cushioned seat, “why not? Are you trying to say you don’t like me?” He knew you did. It’s not like you weren’t (unfortunately) very obvious.

“That’s not—“ Your lips pull into a thin line, “are you teasing me again?”

“I’m dead serious! I wouldn’t tease you about this.. well, I would, but i’m not right now.” He swears, holding one hand to his heart and one in the air, “on my whole football career.”

Your gaze finally flickers back up to the boy, eyebrows lifting curiously. “You’re serious about this?”

“Very.” He nods, “so?”

You take a deep breath, pushing the glass ice cream bowl away from your hands so you could clasp them together. “Fine. Sure, Héctor. There is like, a possibility that it’s true. Of course, that is if there’s also a possibility—“

“Oh, I do. No questioning.” He was straight forward, eyes flickering across your face as his lips twitch into a smirk.

Suppressing a smile, you laugh lightly. “Okay, straight to the point… well, now what?” You lean toward the table, head rolling to the side with a lifted eyebrow.

“Well, I propose the next time we go out for ice cream, we label it a date. Not just a.. what do we call this?” His forehead creases as he motions between the two of you.

You tap your chin, thinking for a moment. “Well, a hang out, idiot.” You laugh, “as friend’s usually do.”

“And we aren’t friends anymore, so next time it’s a date.” He smiles, sitting up straight in his seat. “We could always go somewhere nicer, if you want.”

“I like our simplicity.” You shrug, “so I prefer it that way. No big things, wait—“ You point a finger up, “don’t believe that’s how i’m going to feel when we’re dating. I expect big things from you, Mr.Fort.”

Héctor chuckles, his head shaking as the laughter flows from his lips. You were so glad you could enjoy that sound without having to attempt to hide it. “I would never imagine doing anything but big things for you.”

Your knees felt weak. He was making you so giddy, you couldn’t help the wide smile that lifted your entire face. “Good.” That’s all you could even say, you were in such a happy daze.

“Good.” He hums, nodding his head with a smile that matched yours, if not bigger.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Feel free to ask for tags in any of my future posts, all or specific ones <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[bloodibambiidoll]

congrats on 1.6k my angel face ilysm hehe 😘😘

🐇 - “Why don’t you make me?” reader says to steve after being a brat all day…. desperately need stevie to come bully our pussy 🤭

Heheh tysm bb I love uuu🥺🖤 so uhhh.. I know you said mean Steve but soft Steve kind of ended up taking the wheel on this one I hope that’s okay, also it ended up being 2.1k😅

This is for my 1.6k celebration✨

Warnings: A lil bit of jealous Steve, fingering, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, besties to lovers, fluff fluff fluff. 18+MNDI!!

“That was so fucking lame.” You sigh as you flop down on Steve’s couch, throwing your head back against the cushions. You feel defeated after yet another unfulfilling hook up. At least for you. Whatever his name was seemed to be having a great time.

“I don’t know why you keep going out with these guys, these losers are never going to make you cum.” Steve scoffs, he’s honestly so over you coming over here after your shitty dates. He’s pretty sure this is how Robin probably felt when he was in the height of his serial dating career. Except she isn’t in love with him. Having to listen to you describe what these guys do, or in most cases, don’t do to you when he wants to be the only one that gets to touch you like that drives him insane.

“Why don’t you make me cum then, Steve?” Steve is almost positive he’s dreaming. There’s no way you just said that. As if you read his mind.

“What did you just say?” His head whips toward you, his eyes are wide and his mouth is agape.

“I think you heard me, Steve…” You cross your legs and Steve swears he sees them squeeze together just a little extra and you’re giving him this look you’ve never given him before. “Why don’t you… make me cum?”

“I -“ He rises from his spot on the other side of the couch to stand in front of you, he rests his hands on the back cushion on either side of your head and leans down so his face is mere inches away from yours. You can smell his minty gum and the way he’s looking at you makes your thighs clench together even tighter. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me to do…”

“If I’m not mistaken, I just asked you to make me cum. But if you don’t want to or if it’s weird like seriously it’s okay! Like maybe I shouldn’t have even -“ You’re cut off when one of Steve’s hands grabs onto your face as he leans down to smash your lips together. You let out a surprised gasp against his lips before putting your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He slips his tongue in your mouth and tangles it together with yours, not even caring that his body is bent at an awkward angle standing over you because god, he’s finally kissing you. When you try to pull him even closer he pulls away and before you can even protest he’s sitting on the couch next to you and pulling you into his lap so you’re straddling him.

“Are you sure about this? Because once I get a taste of you I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back.” Steve grabs onto your face again, his large fingertips splayed across the back of your neck while the pad of his thumb comes to run across your bottom lip, smearing the mixture of your spit like lipgloss.

“I’m sure Stevie, please.” Your lips form into a pout as you look up at him through your lashes and god Steve is going to fucking ruin you.

“Alright baby, I’ve got you.” He kisses you again, wasting no time slipping his tongue past your lips. One of his hands it’s still gripping onto your face while the other travels down to squeeze your tit. He gives the other one some attention before slipping between your thighs. He cups your lace covered pussy under your skirt, adding pressure against your clit with his palm. Steve starts to move his hand in circles as he continues to kiss you like he will die if he doesn’t, his other hand comes down to grip onto your ass through your skirt, encouraging you to grind against him.

“Mmm, that feels good Steve.” You pull away from him to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting both of your lips. The prettiest little moans and gasps are leaving you but it’s not enough, Steve wants more, Steve wants you screaming for him.

“Yeah baby? How about this?” He pushes your panties to the side, gathering your wetness on the tips of his fingers before slipping one into your slit. He curves it upwards as his thumb applies pressure to your clit.

“Oh god. Yeah, yeah that’s so good.” Steve smirks at you while the pace of his finger picks up and then he’s sliding a second one in and his digits are just so thick and he’s hitting your sweet spot with each thrust of them. You’re so wet his thumb is gliding along your clit with ease and he rotates between soft strokes and adding harder pressure against it. “Fuck, Steve, fuck I think I’m gonna - I think I’m gonna cum.

“Mhm, I can feel your fingers clenching around me baby, give it to me.” He lowers his face into the crook of your neck so he can place open mouthed kisses against it and glides his tongue along the expanse of your throat before sinking his teeth into your skin.

“Ohmyfuckinggod! I’m cumming, yeah I’m fucking - I’m cumming.” Your eyes roll back and your pussy is practically sucking Steve’s fingers in as your walls convulse around them.

“Yeah that’s it, good girl, so good for me.” He fucks you through it, not stopping until he feels you go limp on top of him, your head resting on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath.

“Fuck Stevie, thank you, wow.” You let out a breathy chuckle and go to move off of him but he grips onto your hips, holding you in place.

“You didn’t think I was just going to make you cum once, did you?” He chuckles, gently pulling your head back to make you look at him.

“I mean - you really don’t have to -“ Steve puts a finger on your lips as he shushes you.

“Stop overthinking and lay down.” You oblige him, laying your back against the plush couch cushions.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He leans down to kiss your neck, down your collar bones, he places kisses at the top of your cleavage before grabbing onto the bottom of your shirt. “Let me see you.”

You sit up so he can pull your shirt over your head and he skillfully snakes his hand behind your back to undo your bra. He wastes no time gripping onto your tits so he can knead them in his large palms. Steve circles his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh fuck.” You moan as your fingers find purchase in his thick locks, just like you’ve dreamed about a thousand times before. Steve kisses down your stomach before looking up at you while his finger plays with the hem of your skirt, asking without words. “Yes, please take it off.”

He pulls your skirt and your panties down your legs and groans at the sight of your slick folds. He grips onto your thighs, kissing and nipping the soft skin there.

“So wet for me, bet none of those douchebags ever had you this wet. Your pussy’s so pretty, baby.” Baby, he’s never called you that before today and you seriously never want him to stop now. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He leans down and licks a stripe all the way up your slit before circling your clit with his tongue. He sucks it into his mouth as he shakes his head from side to side, moaning at the taste of you.

“Oh my god, Steve! Fuck!” Your fingers find his hair again while you throw your head back.

His tongue slides down between your lips, running the flat of it up and down your dripping slit before shoving it inside you. He curls and swirls his tongue inside you, practically massaging your walls. His lips come up to latch around your clit again, sucking harder than before while he inserts two fingers inside you with ease. He pumps them in and out of you at a quick pace as his lips and tongue practically devour your clit.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again, gonna cum Steve, oh god.” Your thighs clamp around his head as your back raises off the bed, pornographic moans falling from your lips. When he’s sure you’ve come down from your high Steve pulls his body up so it’s covering yours and kisses you passionately. The taste of yourself on his tongue has you desperate for him all over again.

“That was so hot, you’re so sexy. Been wanting to do that for so long.” Steve mumbles against your lips as he rolls his hips against you.

“Yeah? Me too. Shit Steve, can I make you cum too? Will you fuck me?” Your hips grind up into his, causing him to groan.

“You sure? Because if I fuck you I don’t know if I can just forget it happened afterwards…” Steve blinks rapidly, offering you a borderline nervous smile.

“I don’t want to forget, I want you, Steve, I’ve always wanted you.” You grab onto his face and gently caress his cheeks, admiring how beautiful he is this close. His nose is so perfect, you can see each and every freckle, and those green flecks in his eyes are more prominent than they’ve ever been as the lamp shining behind you practically illuminates him like an angel.

“Fuck, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I love you, you know?” Steve chuckles and you feel his face warm under your palms as you watch his cheeks dust pink.

“I love you too Stevie, so fucking much.” You giggle and all Steve can think about is how fucking beautiful you look completely bare under him, your skin flushed from the pleasure he had given you minutes ago, your hair all tosseld, lips kiss swollen, looking up at him like he hung the stars.

“Yeah? Well, now that we’ve established that, I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” He smirks down at you before pushing himself up on his knees so he can make quick work of his belt, pulling his shirt over his head afterwards. When his cock springs free you actually gasp at the sight of it.

“Holy shit.” Your jaw drops and you look up at him with wide eyes. “I knew you dick was huge from the outline of it in your slutty little jeans but fuck Steve, where the fuck is that gonna fit?.”

“I think you can take it.” He pumps himself a few times before running his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness so he can rub it along his cock. He bumps it against your clit a few times and it has your squirming underneath him.

“Don’t tease, Stevie.” You whine, pouting up at him, and Steve can’t take it anymore, he slams into you, your wetness having him practically sliding in despite the thickness of his cock. He pushes his hips flush against yours and he is so deep inside you and he’s stretching you out so perfectly. “Oh fucking shit, fuck, please move.”

“It’s okay Angel, I’ve got you.” He laces his fingers through yours as he leans down to kiss you, his hips picking up speed as his cock starts to thrust deep and hard inside you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Faster, please, faster.” He picks up speed, his hips smack against yours so hard the claps echo through the room. He lets go of one of your hands so he can rub circles on your sensitive clit with his thumb.

“Fuck, so good, your pussy is so good, you’re such a good girl for me. Wanna make you cum again.” Steve angles his hips so his cock is brushing against your g-spot just right as he continues to rub your clit in time with the pumps of his cock into your soaking slit.

“Want you to cum too, I want you to fill me up until it’s so deep inside of me it’s leaking out for days.” You push your hips up to meet his thrusts and it only takes a few more rough strokes to have your pussy fluttering around him. “Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, that’s so good, I love you, I love you.”

“Oh god, shit, I love you too. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Steve groans as his cock twitches inside of you, ropes of his cum painting your walls. When he comes down he drops his body weight on you, burying his face in your neck.

“Damn. I don’t know why we didn’t do that sooner but I’m really fucking glad we did.” You chuckle, running your fingers along his muscular back and shoulders.

“God, me too. I fucking love you.” He pushes himself up on his hands so he can look at you with that signature goofy smile, resting his forehead against your own.

“I really fucking love you too, Steve Harrington.”

[verstappentime]

more of daniel taking care of max when he has a migraine that i didn't post ❤️ if you're just joining us, max had a career-ending head injury and left f1. he and daniel are married but currently broken up!

(part 1/part 2)

“Stay,” Max says, rushed, before Charles can get anything else out.

“Okay,” Daniel says. He tries to clear the lump in his throat. He’s been waiting for Max to say that word, but this is as close as he’ll get, probably. “Tilt your head forward for me.” Max does; Daniel gingerly presses the ice where his head meets his neck.

Max hisses, reaching up to grab Daniel’s forearm. It’s been so long since Max initiated touch with him; Daniel forces himself not to jolt.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Max groans, gradually loosening his grip. “Can we do the bathtub thing?”

“The– Oh, yeah, sure. Charles, do you have a bath?”

“I feel like you are being the doctor and I am the nurse,” Charles says. He’s hovering closer than a second ago. “Yes, I do, is it for something weird?”

“Nurses are very important,” Max says. Daniel wonders if the meds are making him loopy already.

“It’s not for anything weird. Can you fill it up with hot water? As hot as it can get without burning.”

“Fine. But it’s for him.” It’s too dark for Daniel to see the look Charles is giving him. Just as well.

Daniel stays there, crouched beside Max, keeping the ice pressed to his neck. Max’s breaths are shallow, like he’s trying really hard not to wince, but he’s mostly failing. “The medicine is gonna help,” he says, just for something to say. In the dark, eyes closed, Max reaches around for his hand. Daniel links their fingers, squeezing hard. Max’s hand is clammy and he can’t get a good grip on Daniel, all weak and floppy. “Tell me what feels bad?”

Max turns his face into a couch cushion, making a tiny whining sound. “It’s– like, all the bad stuff. I scared Charles with the throwing up.” He’s talking more, which is a good sign.

“It’s fine,” Daniel says. “He called me and I’m here now, so it’s fine.” He presses his thumb against where Max’s jaw meets his cheek. He’s so tense everywhere.

Charles comes back into the room. “The water’s in the bath. I’m saying again to not do anything weird.”

“We are going to do something so weird,” says Max. He groans as he swivels his legs around to stand up, pressing on his forehead. “Ah, fuck. Shit.” He grabs Daniel’s wrist, squeezing hard.

“Take it easy,” Daniel says, clearing his throat where it’s all thick. He hates this, he hates that Max hurts, that he’s still hurting, and he— he loves, sort of, that it’s him Max is reaching out for. It’s fucking twisted.

Max doesn’t ask to be helped, so Daniel doesn’t offer, just hovers as Max slowly pushes himself to stand up. But Max is unwieldy, swaying a little, and— and he grabs for Daniel again. Maybe it’s just because Daniel’s seen it all before, because he’s fed him and bathed him and sat with him in the middle of the night, but. He’s still being chosen. “Sorry,” Max says, like Daniel would ever want him to do anything else. “My eyes are not so good.”

“It’s fine. I have you.” I always will, I always fucking will.

Charles waves them through to his master bathroom. In the light, Daniel can see that Max’s left pupil is blown. He’s sweaty and he looks like shit, hair all messed up, but he’s Max, and he’s gorgeous. Daniel wants to hold him.

“Max, yell for me if he is doing anything weird to you,” Charles says, and ducks out of the room. Conceding.

“You could have told him we’re not getting naked.”

“I mean, I am taking my pants off,” Max says. “Can I hold onto you?”

Daniel nods slowly, feeling oddly like he should look away. He watches the ceiling as Max holds onto him for balance.

If Max notices him acting weird, he doesn’t say so. “You’ll get your pants wet,” he says instead.

Oh. Daniel glances to the door, where Charles is not. This isn’t what he expected when he woke up today, he thinks, as he’s stepping out of his jeans.

They sit on the edge of the tub, Daniel pressing the ice pack to Max’s neck. It’s an easy trick; get the circulation down into his lower body and away from his head.

“Charles could do this,” Daniel says, after a moment.

“I know,” Max says. He leans his head on Daniel’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but Daniel knows it: I wanted you. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 11]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 4k

Author's Note: *A brief spoiler* Shout out to Barcelona, which is a real bar that's actually on 55th street in NYC. My last trip to NYC, I was there several times with my friends because they had great drinks at a really great price for the city. Soooo if you're ever there, check it out! lol

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @dream-cvtcher @jimincrystal @jksusawife @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @mukeovernetflix @rispwn @shellyyy177 @smoljimjim @taetaecatbo @user-190811 @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

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Series Masterlist

Love, as an emotional commodity, is something that you never know you’re low on, until you find it supplied in abundance. On a stormy Saturday afternoon, with the rain hitting the living room windows of Jung Kook’s Manhattan apartment, you felt his lips on your neck, and you couldn’t help but think that you had found that abundance of love in him.

You straddled him on the sofa, keeping your hands in his hair as he peppered your skin with kisses and soft nibbles, holding you in place by your waist with his strong hands. He gripped tight, hoping you wouldn’t leave, although he knew it was inevitable. Ever since the night he had kissed you, he became insatiable. His lips seemingly begging for more and more, and praying that you had an endless supply. 

“Don’t go.” He mumbled into your skin. “Just stay here with me.” 

“You know I promised him that I’d visit.” You whispered, not wanting to say his name. It would only remind you of a pain you wanted to end, but that you were scared to leave. Life without him seemed like a vast, dark unknown, and you weren’t sure that you were ready to jump head first yet.  

“I know.” Jung Kook said, understanding even though his tone was sad. He pulled away, and rested his head on the cushion. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” 

“Stop.” You shook your head, looking down. 

“I mean it. Hey, look at me.” He said, rubbing your skin where his hands rested as your eyes met his. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve thought so since I first met you.” 

“But… What about your ex-fiancé?” You asked innocently.  

“She’s my ex for a reason.” He explained, taking one of his hands to intertwine with yours. “Do you know why?” 

You shook your head no, and gripped his hand back. 

“She wasn’t you.” Jung Kook admitted. One confession felt like the breaking of a dam, allowing the rest to pour out. “Not her. Not any of the other women I’ve tried being with. None of them were you. None of them took you off my mind, ever.” 

You stared at him in surprise, your lips parted, and your heart beating. For the first time, you thought that maybe, the dark unknown of leaving, might actually be the dark brown of Jung Kook’s eyes. Maybe that was what came next. The road wasn’t scary, or even unknown at all. It was familiar, real, and safe. 

Jung Kook looked at you with a longing kind of softness, and continued holding your hand, as though if you gave him a sign, he’d take you away from the mess. The hurt, the pain, the confusing feelings in your chest. Something in the way he looked at you, held you, and kissed you, told you that he knew how to make it go away. 

You didn’t know what to say, so you leaned down, and placed a gentle kiss to his lips. You hoped it would suffice, and when you felt Jung Kook’s lips turn upward into a smile, you knew he understood exactly what you meant. The way you kissed him whispered, “Thank you… and, I see you. Finally. I’m sorry it took me so long.”  

“You better go.” He whispered back, feeling confident in your return. “He’s expecting you.” 

“Ok.” You replied. You gave him one last quick peck, before darting off into your bedroom to get ready for your visit. Jung Kook stayed seated on the couch, head thrown back, with a smile he couldn’t dream of erasing. Butterflies floated in his stomach, and his heart was beating hard in his chest. 

You saw him. You really, truly saw him. Finally. 

—————————————————————————————————————- 

Jimin was the first to see you when you walked into the meeting room. Anticipating your visit, his mind was quickly thumping through thoughts. He knew, much to his own sadness, that he was playing with borrowed time. You were slipping away, and quickly. His engagement seemed to come with a hidden expiration date, and he was the one that stamped it. 

When you came closer, Jimin stood up nervously, absentmindedly picking at the skin by his nails. He glanced down, and noticed your engagement ring was still missing. It had been weeks, and you never put it back on, not even to see him. 

“Hi, angel.” He greeted, fighting back tears in his eyes. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” You replied softly. It wasn’t a lie. You do miss him when he’s gone. You miss Jimin so deeply, in fact, that it keeps you with him, and makes you forget the pain he causes when he’s around. Sure, you think, he hurts me. But living without him? Imagine how that would feel. 

“Can… Can I kiss you, honey? Please?” He asks. You furrow your brows at the afraid tone of his voice. The man in front of you isn’t the man you recognize. Not your Jiminie. This isn’t the man who boldly negotiates in a conference room, or makes love to you passionately in the dead of night. This is a new Jimin, who looks much more like a scared child, than a confident man. 

“Of course.” You answer, your voice almost silent. 

Jimin smiles for the first time since you’ve seen him that day, as he takes your hand, leans in, and places his lips to yours. His kiss was weak, withholding, and scarce. It was a stark contrast to the way Jung Kook kissed you earlier that morning. Jung Kook chased after your lips, but Jimin shied away.  

“I love you.” Jimin whispered. It sounded self-conscious and apprehensive, even to his own ears. His insecurities continued to bubble up in his chest. He faced them head on, without a drop of alcohol in his system, and it was hell. Without the intoxication, he could see the fragility of everything, and he wasn’t steady enough to keep it from shattering. 

Especially not when he glanced down, to the right side of your neck. It was faint, barely noticeable to the naked eye. But Jimin, afraid of anything that could completely disintegrate his heart, had spotted his worst nightmare immediately; a love mark. Someone had kissed you and had touched you the way only he should, and his breathing hitched, as he knew exactly who it was. 

Part of him wanted to break down; drop to the floor and beg for you to stay with him, like the vulnerable man he always knew he truly was. Part of him wanted to find Jung Kook, and throw the sharp fragments of his broken heart at the young lawyer until a piece landed a cut. He wanted to cry, and scream, and break something. He wanted to drink, more so than he had ever wanted to drink before. He wanted to sink into an abyss, and let every insecurity he’s ever had eat away at him until there was nothing left. 

“My love,” He whispered, his voice eerily calm, not at all reflecting his inner thoughts. “Is he good to you?” 

“What?” You responded, pulling away from him to meet his gaze.  

“Is he good to you?” Jimin asked again, voice still. “Is he kind to you? Are you happy?” 

“Jimin, I don’t-” 

“Because that’s all that matters to me. You should be happy. You deserve that, angel.” 

“Baby, you’re scaring me.” You said, grabbing both of his hands. “What’s going on?” 

“I love you.” He replies, his voice turning shaky. “I would’ve done anything, anything, to make you happy.” 

You put two and two together, and realized he somehow knew about Jung Kook, although you weren’t aware that he had left a mark on your neck. It clicked, that Jimin was spiraling. 

“Jimin, you’re never going to be alone.” You respond, tightening your grip on his hands. “I’m so confused about what to do about so many things, but one thing I know, is that I never want you to be alone. I’ll be with you, no matter what.” 

Jimin just smiled, and shook his head ‘no' through tears. He pulled his hands from you, and stared at your face; the face of a beautiful woman, who he knew he’d love for the rest of his life. 

“I think you should go, Y/N.” He said softly. “I can’t do this right now.” 

—————————————————————————-  

Jung Kook was in the kitchen, making fresh bruschetta to surprise you from what he could only imagine was a hard visit. But when you entered through the door early, kicking off your shoes with tears in your eyes, Jung Kook knew it was worse than what he had imagined. 

“Y/N?” He asked, wiping his hands on his dish towel. “Hey, c’mere. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“He knows.” You explained in tears, holding onto him. “I don’t know how, but he’s so sad and hurt, and I never wanted to hurt him. I don’t want him to be alone, but I’ve been lonely too, and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Shhh, hey, it’s alright.” Jung Kook comforts you, rubbing your back.  

Inside, Jung Kook’s anger was hitting a boiling point. Never one to have a temper, Jung Kook had been pushed to his limits, seeing you upset because of Jimin once again. To him, Jimin had done everything to push you away, and then when you decide you’ve had enough, he guilt trips you into staying. It seems to be a pattern, again and again, spinning you around and around. He knew you saw it, too, but your love and connection for Jimin made it difficult to break the cycle. Jung Kook hoped that somehow, he could provide the breaks. 

“I don’t like seeing you cry.” Jung Kook said, mustering up gentleness in his tone. “I hate it, actually, because you did nothing wrong, Y/N. You’re allowed to put yourself and your happiness first.”  

“I know, but-” 

“Nope.” Jung Kook cuts you off. “No ‘but.’ You deserve to be happy, and I don’t think you know that. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve to deal with his drinking, or with his mood swings, or with him throwing things and yelling at you. And you don’t deserve to cry and be upset when you did nothing wrong.” 

“But… wasn’t it wrong?” 

“You think our kiss was wrong?” Jung Kook asked, knowing you didn’t really mean your question. “Y/N, why do you stay with him?” 

“I love him.” 

“I know you do. But that wasn’t really what I asked.” Jung Kook replied. He picked you up to sit you on the kitchen island, and stood between your legs. “Why do you stay with him?” 

“I…” You stuttered out, not knowing how to finish. What Jung Kook alluded to, was the thought that had previously walked through your mind. 

Sometimes, love isn’t enough to stay. You adored Jimin, and you had no doubt in your mind that he adored you. But how can you stay and watch someone you love spiral? You knew why, but admitting it was new. 

“I’m scared.” You confessed in a small voice. “I’m scared that if I leave, it’ll hurt me, and it’ll hurt him more, and… I’m scared that he’ll get worse.” 

Jung Kook frowned, not at all liking your answer. He held your face in his hands, and set his eyes on yours. 

“I know you love each other.” Jung Kook said. “I understand. But he hurts you, repeatedly, and you don’t deserve it. Y/N, he drinks, he throws things at you, he yells at you, he trashes your things. He scares you. You’re worried all the time. I know he’s not doing well, but I don’t like what he does to you. You shouldn’t have to be sad because you’re in love with someone, baby.” 

Baby. The word slipped so easily off his tongue. It’s something Jimin called you sometimes, but it sounded different when Jung Kook said it. It sounded different in his voice, soft and gentle, like the way he held you, and looked you, and kissed you. Soft and gentle, like his chocolate brown eyes, and his presence, and the petals of the flowers he brought you, still bloomed by your bed. 

Breaking the moment, your cellphone began to ring. Jung Kook struggled to take his eyes off you, but he prayed internally that Jimin’s name was not on your screen. You pursed your lips and mumbled an “I’m sorry” before untangling yourself from him, and walking over to your phone. 

“Hi, Mr. Kim.” Your sweet voice greeted. “How are you?” 

“I’m alright, thank you, Ms. Y/L/N.” Namjoon said on the other line. Jung Kook couldn’t hear his voice, but watched and listened from the kitchen. “Is Mr. Park with you?” 

“No, he isn’t?” Your voice sounded confused. Jung Kook furrowed his brows. “He should still be in treatment.” 

“He’s not.” Namjoon responded quickly, his voice panicked. “I tried to reach his room earlier, and the staff said he had checked himself out for the evening. I thought he must with you.” 

“No, he isn’t here. I don’t know where Jimin could be.” You said. Jung Kook walked over to you, and motioned for you to pass him the phone. 

“Namjoon? It’s Jung Kook. What’s going on?” Jung Kook watched as you worriedly paced around back and forth, thinking back to what he had just said about Jimin’s behavior and how they affect you. 

“My client is missing.” Namjoon explained. “He checked himself out for the evening, apparently with someone waiting for him. I assumed it was Ms. Y/L/N.” 

“No, she’s here alone with me.” Jung Kook said, scratching the back of his neck. “Wait! My client, Kim Taehyung, they knew each other. Do you think he called Taehyung?” 

“Possibly.” Namjoon said, a tint of hope in his voice. “Hold on for a second, let me call him and I’ll get back to Ms. Y/L/N.” 

“Ok.” Jung Kook nodded, before hanging up the phone. “Hey, Y/N, come here.” 

Jung Kook walked over to you, pulled you in close, and placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“We’ll find him, baby. I promise, I’ll fix it.” Jung Kook whispered, rubbing your back. “No more tears, ok? I’ve got you. I’m right here.” 

A few moments later, Namjoon called again, and Jung Kook picked up the phone. 

“Hey.” He greeted, quick to get to the point. 

“He’s out with Taehyung.” Namjoon said, his voice audibly angry. “They’re at a bar. Some place called Barcelona, on 55th street. I’ll get him.” 

“No, Y/N and I will.” Jung Kook said. 

“He���s my client.” 

“He’s her fiancé.” Jung Kook responded quickly. “Let us handle this.” 

“Fine.” Namjoon said through gritted teeth. “His ass better be back in the treatment center by morning, or I’m finished with him.” 

“Me too.” Jung Kook grumbled, clearly agitated by Jimin’s behavior as well, but for different reasons. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, visibly showing your stress and worry. Jung Kook would do anything to take that away from you, and he was growing angry with the man who refused to give you peace. 

Jung Kook hung up the phone after mumbling a quick bye, and you looked over at him, waiting for an update.

“We know where he is.” He said, trying to keep his voice calm for you. “We’ll go get him together, ok?” 

“He’s drinking, isn’t he?” You said quietly, silently bracing for the answer. 

Jung Kook’s silence was very loud in the room, as though it could echo off the walls. Right back on the cycle you went, preparing to make yet another loop with Jimin. But this time, you weren’t alone; Jung Kook was ready to catch you when you became dizzy, refusing to let you fall. For the first time, you felt steadier on this ride. 

For the first time, you felt like getting off the ride altogether. 

Jung Kook walked with you out of the apartment, afraid to say anything. He didn’t know what he could say, that hasn’t already been said. He told you how he feels, how he’s always felt. He’s kissed you again, and again, and again. He’s all but told you that he believes you should leave your fiancé, and he’s held you while you cried over him. Jung Kook didn’t feel that it was his place to say what he was thinking; “Be with me. Leave him, and let me make everything ok again.”  

As you walked in silent, the rain never halted. It continued, pouring down, and masked any tears that poured down your cheeks. You saw the fluorescent blue lights at the corner of the street in the shape of a whiskey glass, and you knew in your gut that you had found him. You just weren’t sure if you were ready to face him again. 

You peeked into the dark, small bar, and saw him. He looked as messy as he usually did when drinking, with his dyed blonde hair tousled, and his eyelids heavy, barely holding them open. Taehyung sat next to him and continued to talk, not paying attention to the condition of his friend. He conversed with a barely-awake Jimin and the polite bartender, who nodded along to whatever the clearly drunk Taehyung told him. 

Jung Kook was the first to walk in to the bar while you stood at the window a moment longer. Jimin’s eyes were glazed over in a drunken daze, but he immediately perked up when he noticed Jung Kook and then you, waiting outside. Jimin’s eyes widened and he stood quickly off the bar stool, stumbling as he did so before finding his balance. He chose to ignore Jung Kook completely, pushing past him aggressively to exit the small bar and go onto the rainy sidewalk, where you waited. 

“Y/N.” He greeted angrily, his movements uncoordinated as he approached you. “Why did you bring him here?” 

“What?” You asked, taken aback by the first thing he chose to say to you. “Jimin, we came to get you. You left your treatment center.” 

“It’s only for a night.” Jimin rolled his irate eyes. He reached out to hold the wall to steady himself. “Why did you bring him with you? Are you trying to be selfish?” 

Jung Kook, who had been standing at the door, heard the tone in Jimin’s voice and didn’t like it. As if on instinct, he walked over in front of you and gently placed a hand on your waist, to make sure you stood behind him, creating a barrier between you and Jimin. You looked up at his face, but Jung Kook was looking straight ahead, glaring at Jimin. Jimin, in return, laughed sarcastically. 

“Un-fucking-believable.” His intoxicated voice slurred. “So you are fucking him. I knew it. I kn-knew you’d leave me. Embarrass me. What are we going to tell my father, Y/N?” 

“Embarrass you?” Jung Kook gritted his teeth. He had finally snapped, and his patience with Jimin had worn thin. “She has done nothing but put up with your bullshit since you got here, and stood by you through all of it. You’ve hurt her over and over again, and what you’re worried about right now is being embarrassed in front of your father?” 

Taehyung walked out of the bar, clueless to the situation. Jimin was irate, and between Jung Kook’s tone and his hand on your waist, he began to see red. He swung at Jung Kook, who was quick to push you away from the action, taking a hit in the process. Seeing that you were almost hit, Jung Kook became furious. 

“No no no no!” You started yelling, watching Jimin try to hit Jung Kook again. “Guys, stop it!” 

Jung Kook, being much larger than Jimin, was able to push him back easily against the brick wall, especially in Jimin’s drunken state. He didn’t want to fight Jimin and scare you anymore than you were already, but when Jimin came back and tried to hit him again, that was the breaking point. 

“Hey!” Taehyung shouted, attempting to grab Jimin to pull him away. “That’s enough! THAT’S ENOUGH!” 

Finally, Jimin was pulled away, and you ran over to Jung Kook. He immediately pulled you into him, you both soaked from the rain. His lip was busted from one of Jimin’s hits, but other than minor cuts, he was ok.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, feeling you shiver. “I’m taking you home, away from this. Let’s go.” 

“NO.” Jimin yelled, with Taehyung trying to calm him down. 

“I’m taking her home.” Jung Kook repeated a bit louder and more assertive, finished with the situation. “I’m not letting her stand in the rain anymore to deal with you all night. You’re going back to your treatment center. If you’re not there by morning, Namjoon said he’s done with you.” 

“Jimin, please.” You begged. “I need you to get help. I can’t… I don’t know what else to do… Please.”  

The tone of your voice broke Jung Kook’s heart. You were so tired of trying, so tired of begging and pleading, so tired of negotiating. You looked at the man you loved, standing drunk in the rain, and you felt your energy slipping away. You were so exhausted, and you felt as though you hit your own breaking point. What else was there to do? 

“Come on.” Jung Kook said, holding your hand to walk with you down the street. 

—————————————————————————————————— 

As soon as you both arrived back at his apartment, you each took a hot shower to wash off the cold of the rain. Your shower ended after Jung Kook’s, and you knocked on his opened bedroom door, and heard his voice answer, “come in”, softly from his bathroom. 

You went in to find him shirtless, standing at the bathroom mirror and sink, only wearing pajama pants. You could spot the few bruises Jimin was able to leave on his body, and the cut still on his lips. Your lips turned into a frown, and you walked over to sit on the bathroom counter. 

“Here.” You said, grabbing the medicine from the counter. “Let me do it.” 

“Y/N.” Jung Kook smiled, his boyish glow coming back to him after a difficult night. “You don’t need to.” 

“I want to.” You responded, squeezing a bit out onto your finger. He walked a bit closer to you, and looked down at your face while you dabbed the medicine onto the cut on his lip. 

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m sorry I did that. I’m never angry like that, and I never fight, I don’t know… He could’ve hit you, he almost hit you, and I just…” 

“It’s ok.” You responded. “I promise, I understand.” 

“I don’t want you to think that I’m that kind of person.” 

“I know you’re not.” You assured him, putting your hand in his. “Thank you, for moving me out of the way.” 

“Of course.” Jung Kook said. He squeezed your hand back. “You were scared, weren’t you?” 

“Not of you.” You said. “And not of Jimin. I’m scared for him.” 

“I know.” He nods. The room was still, and the rain could be heard pouring outside. Jung Kook stood so close to you. “Y/N… I need to just… I need to tell you.” 

“Tell me what?” 

“You know now, how I feel about you.” Jung Kook said, his hands now holding both of yours as he stood in between your legs. “You know how I’ve always felt about you.” 

“Jung Kook…” 

“I can’t promise you all of the same things he can. I know that.” Jung Kook continued. “But I can promise that I’ll make you happy. Love shouldn’t be like this, Y/N. Please… just think about it.” 

“O-Ok.” You stuttered. “I will.” 

[peachdues]

STRESS RELIEF — TEASER

Anyways, Stress Relief (my Sanemi-gets-topped one-shot), is next up on my completion list — so have a sneak peek!

I love writing from Sanemi’s POV

CW: none really for this snippet • Sanemi trying to be a good malewife and Reader not having it • this fic will be highly NSFW though so MDNI

Sanemi had seen his girlfriend in various states of being, and he prided himself not only on being to identify what mood she was in, but how best to handle her when she was in said mood.

If she was sad, Sanemi knew she needed comfort, but enough space to not feel suffocated.

When she was angry, Sanemi knew she needed to vent, so he would put aside anything that could distract him in order to give her his full, undivided attention.

When she was sleepy, Sanemi had come to accept Y/N would never willingly put herself in bed, instead preferring to be babied. After several rounds of him telling her to go to bed and Y/N lazily insisting she was not sleepy, and was “one hundred percent awake,” she would invariably fall asleep wherever she had managed to park her ass. So Sanemi would gently gather her into his arms and carry her back to their shared bed, taking care to ensure her phone was plugged in so she wouldn’t miss her alarm come morning.

But when Y/N was stressed?

Sanemi knew to stay the fuck out of her way.

In stark contrast to himself, Sanemi’s girlfriend was not a hot-tempered person by default. Nor was she meek by any means; rather, she was quick to laugh, and an all-around easygoing woman.

However, all that calm rationality went right out the fucking window whenever she was under immense pressure, just as she was now.

Y/N was currently studying for her licensing exam. Apparently, seven years of schooling was still not enough for her to advance in her field if she didn’t pass some stupid national exam that re-tested her on everything she had already demonstrated competency in while at school. Personally, Sanemi thought it was just another excuse to make money off the poor saps who had the misfortune of pursuing her chosen career.

For the past three weeks, Y/N had lived, breathed, and (not) slept for the exam. Sanemi found himself having to constantly remind his girl to eat, stretch, take care of her basic necessities. If she wasn’t clacking away on her keyboard as she made color-coordinated outlines, she was watching review videos, and if she wasn’t watching review videos, she was handwriting flashcards until her body finally gave into its exhaustion and she slumped over at her desk.

Last week, she’d been up so late studying that Sanemi had fallen asleep before he could drag her ass to bed. When he had finally jerked himself awake well after midnight and realized that his girlfriend’s warm body was not cuddled up next to him in their bed, he had found his girlfriend in their tiny living room, still at her desk.

Y/N’s head had been resting on her upper arm and her eyes were closed, but still clutched in her hand was her pen, twitching against the paper of her open notebook. When Sanemi had moved to gently pluck the pen from her loose grip, he had peered down to see scratchy and disjointed inky lines on the paper, he had realized that her hand had continued to move even well after she had lost consciousness, as though taking notes had become mere muscle memory.

The sight had made Sanemi’s heart clench, and he felt an inexplicable urge to lock her in bed for a day just to let her rest. Sanemi knew she was doing this so they could have a better life, together, but he hated to see her put so much pressure on herself. He had thought himself smart for deliberately leaving Y/N’s phone — and thus, her alarm — in the living room, discarded between the cushions of the couch (“so it won’t bother me,” she had snapped when he’d raised his eyebrows in question at her earlier). He even thought she would be grateful to him for letting her sleep in.

What a stupid, naive fucking notion that had been.

Because when Y/N had shot up in bed the next morning, disoriented with her hair in a wild, tangled mess, and she saw sunlight streaming through the window, she promptly freaked the fuck out.

“Do you want me to fail?” She cried, storming around their room, digging frantically through a pile of her clothes as she hunted for a pair of leggings to pull over her bare legs.

“You’re not going to fail because you slept an extra fuckin’ hour,” Sanemi groaned from his place in bed, dragging a hand down his tired face. “You’re gonna run yourself ragged if you don’t take care of yourself. You need sleep, babe.”

She let out a derisive laugh, a slightly crazed look in her eye. “I’ll sleep when I pass this stupid test or when I’m dead. Whichever’s first.”

For the rest of the day, Y/N had been snippy, huffing at every slight noise Sanemi had dared to make. She’d only grown more and more irritated as the night went on, and when he had sighed at the prospect of cooking dinner, she lost it.

“Can you stop breathing so god damned loudly?” She snapped, throwing her pen down in annoyance as she whipped around in her chair to glare at him.

Sanemi stared at her in disbelief for a moment, but he’d never been one to keep calm and cool, so he bit right back.

“I’m sorry that I’m just here, existing, and tryin’ to fuckin take care of ya, Princess. My mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m trying to make sure I get my damn license so I can take care of you,” she simpered right back at him, anger swimming in her eyes. “But I guess that doesn’t fucking matter, does it? No!”

A blush began to creep up Y/N’s neck, a telltale sign she was about to start yelling. “No! Because you think taking care of me means not letting me focus or hiding my phone so that i don’t hear my alarms so I can’t wake up on time, and if I can’t wake up on time, I can’t study for as long as I need to, and if I can’t study I. Won’t. Fucking. Pass!” Her voice had become shrill by the time she stopped for a breath, chest heaving.

Sanemi watched her for a long moment as she caught her breath. “Are you done?”

In the span of a nanosecond, Y/N went from an angry, possessed-looking harpy to a sniffling, teary mess. She slumped back down into her desk chair, lower lip trembling pathetically as she tried and failed to hold in a hopeless wail.

“Okay, okay.” Sanemi murmured, moving across the room to kneel next to his sobbing girlfriend, feeling a slight sting of guilt as he watched her shoulders curl in on themselves under the weight of the pressure she undoubtedly felt.

He had spent the night trying to console her, though without much success. She had alternated between despairing over “the impending doom of her failure” and hiccuping angrily at him for continuing to distract her.

Nonetheless, everything about their future was currently riding on Y/N passing her upcoming exam in a month’s time and his girlfriend was currently one belt-loop snag on a door handle from a full fucking meltdown.

So Sanemi knew the best thing he could do was to steer clear and leave her to her own devices. He could do that for her.

But god damn if the sight of her ass in those shorts wasn’t killing him.

banner credit @ cafekitsune

[heartfullofleeches]

Clown Reader's biggest fans-

Interviews have never been easy- When you're on set the camera just disappear, but surrounded by all these blistering lights you feel singled out. It's different from being the center of attention and more like you're in the middle of an interrogation.

The interviewer checks through their notes. "Now, Y/n - While doing some research into your show, our team happened to notice there are three reserved seats in the crowd at all given times, but nobody ever sits in them. Who are they for?"

Your relief is palpable. At least they were starting off with simple questions. "Oh! They're for Bebe, Grinny, and Charlie."

The interviewer scans through the papers, brows raised. "Grinny?"

"They're my friends. My starting crew if that makes things easier, but they mean so much more than that. When I was began my career as a entertainer they were the ones I brought with me to help with the kids. They're a bit worn out now and a little scary to the little tikes so the producers wouldn't let them join me on the show, but it's not like I'd just leave them behind."

"Uh-huh.... Go on?"

"Bebe is the jokester of the group. She's this clown doll I got as a yard sale with stretchy arms and legs. She gives the best hugs and always knows how to make me laugh when I'm down. I still get my best material from her. Grinny is a bit of crybaby. He's a puppet with the biggest smile, but don't let that fool you. He taught me and the kids it's okay to not to not always feel happy. Charlie.... Charlie is my guardian angel. They've always watched over me and been my voice of reason. They're a mannequin I glued wings and a bunch of eyes on when I was bored. I don't know where I'd be without any of them. We've been through thick and thin, and thinner together. It"s save to say they're my biggest fans...."

You slap your hands over your mouth. "Ah! Please don't release that part. I'd hate for the kids to get jealous, haha!"

"We'll cut it out in editing. Thank you, Y/n. We'll take five to let you get some air."

"Alright." Excusing yourself from the table, you walk over to the opposite side of the stage - stepping behind the curtains leading to the dressing rooms. The door to your room is slightly ajars - large button eyes peaking from the crack.

"Bebe!" Rushing over, the large doll falls into your arms as you swig the door open. Her arms rest over your shoulders as you support her weight - sewn lips pressed to your cheek. Laughter erupts from your chest as you attempt to push her back into the room only for her to fall right back into your arms.

"I missed you too, but at least let me get through the door first. Were you eavesdropping again?" The doll doesn't answer as you scoop your arms beneath her legs and carry her inside. The camera crew had been known to move your dolls around to mess with you before so her off placement doesn't surprise you. You carry her over to the couch where Grinny laid on the pillow you always used for your naps. He never faired well without you so it was the best thing for him. Charlie was always off on their own. Bebe does get on their nerves, but you know it's because they miss you too and want to be alone with their feelings. You wheel the mannequin from beside your dresser and over to the couch as you then crawl upon in between the doll and the puppet.

"Thanks for always being here for me, guys. I owe it all to you. Please wake me up in five minutes, Charlie."

You close your eyes as you rest your head on the cushion of Bebe's soft body - a plush hand stroking through your hair as you drift off to sleep.

[armysantiny]

-[minho; soft bf headcanon

P: Minho x gender neutral reader | G: fluff, headcanon | Inc: getting together, playful teasing/pranks, soft domesticity, waking up together, cooking together, nicknames, mention of a situation-ship, the members being fed up with the both you (affectionately), I wrote this for me/j | Wc: 718 | W: none i think| R: G

This headcanon is just me fulfilling my own delusions, let’s get that out of the way first/hj

Fun fact this was also written at work :D

Minho is very much an affectionate tease; he absolutely loves the playful little dynamic the both of you have got going on

Always feels like there’s an inside joke for just the two of you to share

If it’s not playful teasing, then it’s the softest domesticity in the world and I stand by this

Cuddling on the sofa after the two of you get home and wordlessly deciding on what to watch

Gentle touches on the small of your back when he walks past

Especially when you’re cooking together, and he needs to grab something from the cupboard

Waking up in the morning and the affection is just pouring out of his eyes

Yk what I mean

The lazy smiles, the quiet “g’morning” followed by “no, no, we can stay in a little bit longer”

All the while the cats are using your legs as cushions

And hey if the cats love you then that’s it, he’s planning the wedding/hj

There is not a day that goes by where your name is not on this man’s lips

Every day without fail he finds a way to mention you in conversations with his friends

The members already have to hear this man singing your praises day in and day out

In fact, it was likely Chan that encouraged him to approach you in the first place, Minho at first just very content to admire you from a distance

Not that he wasn’t confident that you’d like him  

But that he’s a very, very, busy man with his idol career

And he wouldn’t want to force you to have to deal with the second-hand stress that clearly comes with dating an idol

Cue a montage of him coming to befriend you and slowly worming his way into your heart

Before you know it you also have a crush on this man

And somehow becomes a situation-ship?? Don’t ask me I don’t make the rules, I just write these things

You’re visiting him during practice with drinks and snacks for everyone, engaging with the other members and they love you

All the more reason for Minho to fall further and further in love with you

You’re sweet, care for him and love being around the important people in his life?? Just what did he do to deserve you—

The whatever-it-is between you doesn’t get defined for a while, but you’re both content atm

Bixby play I Like It/j

One day he slips and calls you his lover, but he says it with the upmost conviction

The man means it, I tell you

When you find out, from one of the kids (who said that—) you tease him with a “we’re lovers now are we?”

Which is exactly the moment you understand why a shy Minho is an adorable Minho

“If, well- you know…I think it fits.”

“I do too.” And he pulls you into one of those tight hugs where you can feel his heartbeat and good lord it’s doing double time

If somehow, he wasn’t already doing it before, Minho is now calling you nothing else but every fond pet name under the sun that he associates with you

Uses some of the odder pet names when he wants to hear you snort with laughter

“Hey there, kitten,” and the two of you are snickering bc neither of you can take that one seriously

Your collective friend groups roll their eyes when the two of you team up to cause chaos

Casually pulling harmless pranks on everyone who’s game

Oh, and he holds your hand. All the time. Absolutely everywhere

His hand kinda just seeks yours out on its own sometimes lmao

There’s just something about that shared warmth every time that he loves

That and he thinks it’s cute when you drag him around to show him something when you’re out on a date

Makes a huge fuss out of being taken somewhere and yet he’s willingly looking up the directions and driving the car, admonishing you for even suggesting that he doesn’t have to.

Excuse me will you accept his acts of service or what?? Let him love you dammit/lh

© copyright work of armysantiny 2024-2025

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[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Epilogue

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: That marks the end of this series :( thank you guys so much for all the love and feedback! I’m so proud of this series and I hope u guys love it as much as I do.

Masterlist: Here

It had been a year since the custody battle, since Rafe and you had found yourselves standing side by side, figuring out this whole "family" thing. A year since both of you issued a restraining order against Ward, and the judge granted it. A year since you stopped pretending you didn’t feel something for him, and he stopped acting like he was too good for anyone, especially you. Now, the chaos of life had settled into a strange, beautiful rhythm. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was yours.

And, somehow, against all odds, the three of you had made it work.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, where you stood trying to assemble breakfast. You had learned, over time, that cooking for Willa was an Olympic sport. Every time you managed to whip together a simple meal, she somehow managed to flip the situation on its head—literally.

"Willa, no!" you heard Rafe call out from the living room. You looked up just in time to see him frantically trying to stop her from scaling the couch like some sort of tiny, diaper-clad Spider-Man. “You can’t climb up there!”

But Willa was undeterred. She gave a small shriek of triumph, her baby legs scrabbling up the cushions like she was born to conquer furniture. You had to admit, you were impressed.

"I swear she’s part monkey," you muttered under your breath, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand.

Rafe stumbled into the kitchen, his hair sticking out at odd angles, the look of a man who had given up on ever having a decent morning.

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” he deadpanned, rubbing his face. “We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. No more couch climbing. She’s already an inch away from that giant coffee table, which, let me remind you, is made of solid oak. And do you know what happens when Willa decides gravity is optional?”

You snorted. “We end up on the floor with her holding a half-empty juice box like she’s just conquered the world, while you scramble to pick up the pieces of your dignity.”

He shot you a pointed look. “Exactly.”

You set the pancakes aside and wandered over to rescue Willa, who was now attempting to climb up the back of the couch like a small, determined mountain goat. Scooping her up with one hand, you held her up in front of you. “You know, kid, you’re lucky you’re so cute, because if I had to stop doing my work every time you decided to do a backflip off a chair, I’d be in therapy by now.”

Willa gurgled, her eyes wide and innocent, as though she didn’t have a single rebellious bone in her tiny body.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I’m just saying, if she’d stop doing that, maybe I could get ten minutes of peace. But no. We live in a house of chaos.”

You smirked, watching as Willa grabbed his shirt and yanked. “If she’s chaos, you’re the tornado that hits right after,” you teased, making Rafe roll his eyes dramatically. “Just admit it—you love it.”

He groaned but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, I love the chaos. But you have to admit it’s a lot of work. I mean, who’s going to put together her tiny little rocking horse without accidentally breaking something?”

“Not me,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I broke that rocking horse three times already.”

At that, Rafe laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’ll take that as my cue to fix it. You keep trying to make breakfast, and I’ll figure out what’s going on with the toy horse that’s apparently haunted.”

Willa babbled in your arms, and you kissed the top of her head. “I’m not saying this to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure she is a secret agent in training. I’ve seen her figure out how to break into places she’s not supposed to be like she’s in a spy movie.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Spy movie? She’s more like a tiny burglar who knows how to manipulate you with her big eyes and unstoppable giggle.”

You chuckled, nodding. “Fair. But I still think she could make a killing in espionage. Maybe we should start saving for her college fund in case she ends up needing a fake passport.”

Rafe grinned, his mood visibly lightened by your banter. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to need therapy more than we need a college fund. But I’ll get started on that fake passport idea, just in case.”

You grinned back at him, feeling that familiar warmth settle in your chest. There was a time—just a year ago—when you had no idea what your future would look like. Now, here you were, a family, even if it didn’t look like any family you had ever imagined.

“Well,” you said, turning back to the pancakes, “we better get our act together before she eats all the syrup by herself.”

Rafe snorted and shot you a grin. “You think she’s not going to try that already?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later that day, after Willa’s nap (which, let’s be honest, was more of a battle than an actual nap), you and Rafe found yourselves in the backyard, taking a breather after the chaotic lunch you’d just survived. Willa was happily playing in her little sandbox, tossing sand like it was confetti at a New Year’s party, while you and Rafe collapsed onto the porch swing, exhausted but content.

"How the hell did we get here?" you asked, your voice quiet, more to yourself than to him.

Rafe leaned back with a sigh, staring up at the sky. "I’m pretty sure we got here because you’re too stubborn to admit you love me," he said with a grin.

You nudged him with your elbow. "Excuse me, but it’s not just me that’s stubborn. Have you seen the way you try to resist her puppy-dog eyes? You can’t even handle Willa when she does her sad little face, and you know it."

He groaned. “It’s my kryptonite. I’m weak. I’ll admit it.”

“Good. Because that means you’re finally accepting that she’s the boss around here. We’re just along for the ride.”

Rafe chuckled, nudging you back. “If that’s true, then I’m okay with it. Besides, she has the best team behind her, right?”

You smiled softly, watching Willa scoop up a handful of sand and drop it like a tiny little sandstorm. “Right. And we’re the best team for her.”

There was a pause, a quiet moment where both of you watched Willa. The future was still uncertain—life always was—but for the first time in a long time, it didn’t seem so scary.

“Well,” Rafe said, standing up and stretching, “I guess we better go make sure our future crime boss doesn’t eat the sand. You know, for her health.”

You snorted, laughing as you stood too. “You mean for the safety of our sanity?”

“That too,” Rafe said, laughing as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a warm hug.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And for once, that was enough.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

And so, life continued. Chaotic. Messy. Full of love. Your newfound family was far from conventional, but it was undeniably theirs—and somehow, that made it all the more beautiful.

Plus, Willa? She’d definitely grow up to be a world-class agent of chaos, and Rafe and you would have to learn to live with that.

But at least you’d be together.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.