#cookie when I catch you cookie COOKIE WHEN I CATCH YOU COOKIE. STOP HIDING.

[bbokarimenu]

Snowed in With you

pairing: bangchan! x fem reader!

genre: fluff

warnings: none

an: Merry Christmas lovely’s 💚❤️

Masterlist

The snow had been falling for hours, blanketing the streets of Seoul in a shimmering white coat. The flakes drifted lazily outside the window, illuminated by the warm glow of Christmas lights. I pulled the curtains closed with a small sigh, hugging my arms as the cozy warmth of our apartment wrapped around me.

It was Christmas Eve, and for once, Bang Chan had the entire day off. It felt like a miracle. Between practices, performances, and managing his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely had time to just… breathe. But tonight, the world had gifted us a quiet moment—just us, no schedules, no distractions.

“Y/N, what’s taking so long? I need your help!” Chan’s voice called from the living room, laced with mock urgency.

Rolling my eyes fondly, I stepped into the room, where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor amidst a chaotic pile of tinsel, ornaments, and what looked like a very tangled string of Christmas lights. He had a Santa hat perched jauntily on his head, and his sweater—a gaudy masterpiece featuring a reindeer with flashing LED antlers—lit up every few seconds.

“You started without me?” I teased, picking up the nearest ornament.

Chan gave me an exaggerated pout. “I was just trying to untangle the lights, but it’s like they have a personal vendetta against me. Help me out before I lose my mind.”

I chuckled, kneeling beside him. “Alright, let’s do this. But if you break any ornaments, you’re on cleanup duty.”

“Deal.” He grinned, scooting closer as we began the painstaking process of untangling the lights.

An hour later, the tree was finally decorated, its branches adorned with twinkling lights, mismatched ornaments, and a slightly crooked star at the top. We stepped back to admire our handiwork, Chan’s arm casually slung around my shoulders.

“Not bad,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I mean, it’s definitely got character.”

“Character?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s just your way of saying it’s a mess.”

“It’s a beautiful mess,” he corrected, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. “Just like us.”

I swatted his chest, laughing. “You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his dimpled smile making my heart flutter.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of holiday clichés. We baked cookies—though Chan ate most of the dough before it even made it to the oven—and danced around the kitchen to Christmas music, our laughter filling the small apartment. At one point, he pulled me into his arms for a slow dance, the lights from the tree casting a soft glow over us.

“You know,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine, “I don’t get to do this often enough.”

“Dance in the kitchen?” I teased, trying to lighten the sudden seriousness in his tone.

Chan chuckled, but his eyes stayed soft. “No. Spend time with you. Just… be here. Like this.”

I felt my chest tighten at his words. I knew how much pressure he was under, how hard he worked to juggle everything. Moments like this—just the two of us, no interruptions—were rare. Precious.

“Well,” I said, my voice quiet, “I’m glad we have tonight.”

“Me too.” His arms tightened around me, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t exist.

Later that night, we curled up on the couch with a blanket and a plate of slightly burnt cookies. A Christmas movie played in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. I was too busy watching the way Chan’s face lit up every time he laughed, the way his dimples deepened when he smiled.

“You’re staring,” he said, catching me in the act.

I shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

His ears turned pink, and he ducked his head, trying to hide his grin. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” I countered, poking his cheek.

“Stop.” He laughed, grabbing my hand to pull me closer. “Come here.”

I let him tug me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me as he rested his chin on my shoulder. We sat like that for a while, watching the snow fall outside the window, the room filled with the soft hum of Christmas music and the warmth of being together.

As midnight approached, Chan reached behind the couch and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking it from him.

“Open it and find out.” His smile was almost shy, a rare sight that made my heart skip a beat.

Carefully, I peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a delicate silver bracelet. Dangling from it was a tiny charm shaped like a star, its edges sparkling in the light.

“Chan,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re always saying how much you love looking at the stars,” he said, his voice soft. “I thought maybe this could be a little reminder. You know, for when I’m not around.”

I blinked back tears, slipping the bracelet onto my wrist. “I love it. Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered back, leaning into him.

The snowstorm raged outside, but inside, everything was warm and safe. In that moment, wrapped in Chan’s arms with the glow of the Christmas tree around us, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect holiday.

[megumiluvv]

It’s Christmas. You’ve almost forgotten about it and rush next door to Choso’s apartment, Yuji’s gifts in hand. You carefully place them under the tree and start to grab your gift for Choso, yet pause to look at the tree.

The ornaments are so pretty and sweet. Mostly items that Yuji has handcrafted for school projects, but also some old ones of Choso’s. An old elementary photo of him catches your eye and you smile. His little kid face is so adorable, but the lack of tattoo across his nose is a little surprising at first. Maybe because you’re used to him with it.

Choso walks into the living room from his bedroom and smiles. “When’d you get here?”

“Just now, still have to bring your presents, so look away.” You smile as he starts to cook breakfast, the Christmas cookies you all decorated a few days ago still in a container sitting on the counter.

You return to your apartment and grab Choso’s gift, you hope he’ll like it. You hide the small box in your pocket and head back to the apartment next door. Choso’s cooking and Yuji’s still asleep, so you continue with the plan you and Choso made last night, grabbing Choso’s boots and a sieve and powdered sugar to make it seem like Santa had visited overnight.

The footsteps lead from the front door to the tree, then lead to the cookies and milk that were set out, then back to the door. Choso looks over and frowns a little.

“Still think the floor will be sticky when it’s time to clean.”

“Quit whining, Yuji has to believe it.”

“The snow would already be melted before he even reached our apartments, we’re under an awning.”

“He doesn’t know any better. He’s too young for practicality, okay?” You huff in exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” Choso sighs and sets the table. “Sukuna and Uraume should arrive soon.”

Just then, a knock comes to the door. Before either of you could answer, Sukuna opens the door, always walking in like he owns the place. He sees the “snow” and carefully avoids it, knowing better than to mess with Yuji’s image of Christmas.

“He’s still at that age?” He grumbles.

“Huh, speak of the devil and he may come.” Choso mutters to himself. You giggle and help Sukuna set the presents under the tree.

“Is it snowing out there?”

“Yeah, colder than Uraume’s freezer settings.” Sukuna grumbles once more.

“That’s an exaggeration.” Uraume rolls their eyes and sits on the couch beside Sukuna.

You go to wake Yuji and smile at the cute Christmas pajamas the boy is wearing. He clings to you, half-asleep as you carry him out of his room. The moment he sees the presents, his eyes widen, and he believes good Saint Nick stopped by even more when he sees the footprints you created.

“Santa came!” The boy shouts excitedly, hopping from your arms to the tree, looking back at Choso excitedly. “Can I open one? Pleaseeee?”

“Eat first, kiddo, then we can have presents.” You smile and help Yuji to his seat.

He hurriedly eats breakfast and sits at his favorite spot on the couch, trying to hide his excitement for the presents. You set his presents out in front of him, then do the same for the presents for Choso from Sukuna, saving yours for later.

“Woahhh! I got a Human Earthworm poster!” Yuji grins widely. “And spider-man stuff!”

“Damn kid and his spider-man.” Sukuna ruffles Yuji’s hair and smirks as the boy complains.

Choso looks at the present from Yuji, you can see his eyes watering at the little gift. You sit beside him and lean your head on his shoulder, looking at the handmade present. Yuji (with the help of you) made a photo album for Choso, a bunch of pictures from this year’s adventures, and a handwritten note from Yuji saying how Choso is “the best big brother ever in the history of the universe”.

“Yuji, this is so nice, thank you.” Choso barely contains his emotions as he hugs his little brother, much to Yuji’s protests.

You smile softly and stand. “Let’s go play in the snow, yeah?”

Yuji nods excitedly at that and puts his snow boots on. “Yeah!!”

After a long day in the snow and a snowball fight Choso loses, Sukuna and Uraume take their leave and Yuji sleeps in his bedroom. You and Choso clean the wrapping paper mess and the footprints of powdered sugar off the floor. You grab a fake mistletoe plant from the tree and grin to yourself.

“Choso, look up.” You hold the mistletoe over your head.

Choso smirks and places his hands on your waist. “You do understand what that means, right?”

“Mmmhm! That’s the whole point. Now don’t ignore the Christmas tradition, Choso Claus.” You giggle.

He presses his lips to yours and you wrap your arms around his neck, eyes closing and a contented hum escaping your throat. You both hold the kiss for a moment and when you pull away, you place your present in his hands. He opens it carefully and smiles at the locket in the box. Inside the locket is a photo of you and Yuji, you thought it was a little much, but Sukuna said he’d like it.

“…I really like this, thank you.”

Feeling accomplished (and very relieved), you smile and give him a chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas, Cho.”

“Merry Christmas indeed.”

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish

@meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf

@mysteriaqueen @theirlgarfield

@jasminelee324 @t-candy

[wholoveseggs]

ship for the lovely @perseephoneee !!

Of course I will ship you with the (only slightly) less handsome Mikaelson brother ~~ I joke I joke... Sorta. Kol loves chaos, but he’s also an artist at heart, passionate and creative. And that sounds like a perfect match for you! You are a musical artist as well as a writer and an all-around cool person, the kind of girl Kol would chase after!

~A Christmas Eve with Kol

(& the rest of the Mikaelson family)

It starts like every Mikaelson gathering—a bit of revelry, a lot of wine, and Klaus yelling about how he met the "real" Santa (K)Claus and he was a "stupid bloody git," who was "no damn better than the rest of us," etc, etc. (The man can create beef with anyone, anytime, for any reason.)

You are trying your best to nod along and be empathetic, but you’re scanning the room, silently begging for another Mikaelson to rescue you from the awkwardness. Rebekah is in the kitchen, meticulously decorating cookies; Elijah is helping Hayley and Hope wrap gifts; and Kol… Well, Kol is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, yelling erupts from the kitchen. Kol decided it would be hilarious to replace one of Rebekah’s cookies with a small plastic spider. Needless to say, it didn’t go over well.

Now, you’re both in the corner, laughing so hard you can barely breathe. Kol, of course, is trying to convince you to sneak upstairs with him so he can show you the gift he got you. You’re adamant about staying downstairs to finish your drink, but he turns those puppy dog eyes on you, lips pouting in a way that makes it absolutely impossible to say no. “Fine,” you huff, feigning annoyance as you follow him upstairs.

In his room, he tells you to sit on the bed. You watch as he grabs something out of his closet, hiding it behind his back with a sheepish grin. You roll your eyes. “Kol, we’re not kids. What are you hiding?”

He reveals a beautiful, hand-crafted guitar, its polished wood gleaming in the low light. Your mouth drops open. It’s stunning.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice suddenly quieter, almost uncertain. “Kol, it’s… perfect,” you manage, your voice soft. “Not as perfect as you,” he teases, taking your hand and leading you to the attic stairs before you can even protest. “Come on, love. There’s more.”

He leads you up to the roof, where the world is blanketed in snow and lit by a thousand tiny lights strung around the compound. From his coat pocket (Kol always comes prepared), he pulls out a small speaker and plays your favorite Christmas song. “Care to dance?” he asks, extending his hand with a dramatic flourish.

You laugh but take it anyway. The two of you sway together under the stars, the rest of the world fading away. Kol’s hands are warm despite the cold, and his gaze? Intense, like you’re the only thing that matters. He twirls you around, laughing when your breath catches.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you—the music, the snow, the lights, and the warmth of his body against yours.

Then, he leans in, brushing a snowflake from your hair before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, everything you imagined it would be.

Later, when you’re back inside, Kol (true to form) pretends the dance never happened. He smirks at you from across the room as if to say, That’s our little secret.

Of course, you’ll never forget it. Every time you hear that song, every time snowflakes start to fall, you’ll think of Kol Mikaelson and the way he made the world stop for you.

Playlist ♬ (idk these songs just remind me of Kol)

These Fangs - Say Hi Doors Unlocked and Open - Death Cab Lovebomb - Yeah Yeah Yeahs Fog - Wintersleep

[bluesidez]

I should make a timelapse of my smile fading in real time.

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.6)

★ Word Count: 5.9k

★ Content: You meet Miguel's family and friends! Black Cat shows up again (yeah, she's getting a warning now). Miguel meets your mom. A LOT of comparisons to Dana. You two have a fun road trip.

★ A/N: Heyyyy, I'm breaking my hiatus to post this! I'm not officially back back yet though. I'm kinda enjoying not being on tumblr as much. Obviously, I'm still writing though, so I hope you guys enjoy! I also made some changes, some retcons because it was bothering me. Nothing major though, so it shouldn't affect the story.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

The roaring noises of The Weave become second nature to Miguel.

The strobing lights and smoke that clings to the ceiling. Dancers grabbing their customers and leading them to a sit to get a show. Bits of confetti mixed with dollar bills on the floor.

If this was his first time in the club, he'd easily become overstimulated. Now, he's easily leading the rest of the group to the bar.

Xina covers her ears while following him as Gabriel and Kasey simultaneously let out a shriek.

“I can see why this club is popular!” Gabriel clasps Miguel’s shoulder. “Everyone is getting turned up!”

“At eight pm on a Tuesday…” Xina mutters.

“There’s usually a good turn out on Tuesdays.”

Miguel knows. Your dance draws in a crowd every time. You tell him that Tuesdays are the days where you make the most amount of money.

“Good thing I called out tomorrow.” Kasey hooks her arm around Xina, taking the lead. The men follow, Gabriel hooping at the upbeat music while Miguel's eyes scan the area.

He doesn't see you yet. You were nervous during the build up of meeting his friends and family, wondering which one of your glittery outfits is presentable for them. You didn’t want to go too far out, not wanting to scar Xina, but didn't want to lean towards too modest as you had your headliner dance.

Miguel tried to convince you not to worry about it, that anything you wear would be okay.

“Science Guy!” Ben greets, glancing at the fresh faces, “Who has new friends. I always knew you were a social butterfly.”

He shakes his head, “Ben, this is my brother, Gabriel, his girlfriend, Kasey, and my best friend, Xina.”

“Oh shit, I didn't know it was ‘Family Night’ at The Weave.”

“Since when have we ever had family night?” Pixie joins in, nursing a water. Her top catching anyone's eye as it symbolizes fairy wings. If she's here, that means you're nearby.

“We had family night last year where Mj bought in Peter.”

“That was couples night, babe.”

“Oh.”

“It's nice to meet you!” Xina greets loudly, causing everyone at the bar to turn towards her.

“Xi, the music is not that loud.” Kasey reassures with a squeeze on her arm.

Pixie snorts, her eyes tracing Xina up and down, “It was cute though.”

She darts away from Pixie's gaze, face turning red. Miguel steps over to her, his eyes silently asking where are you. Pixie's reassuring look tries to help but it doesn't.

“This is Pixie. She's one of the dancers.”

“Ooh like the pixie haircut?” Gabriel motions around his head.

“That and I like mythical creatures. Like pixies. ” She explains. Miguel tries not to look surprised at your friend willingly telling information to people she just met.

“Pixies are cool.” Xina adds in, fiddling with her white blouse. Pixie only gives her a smile.

“Alright, who wants drinks?” Ben starts taking drink orders.

Miguel’s considering getting one himself since he doesn't see you yet. He wonders if you decided to back out of the meet and greet and not tell him. Did he rush into this? Were you not ready to meet the people he's close to?

He just settles on a water, continuing to scan the area.

“So, you two are dating, right?” Ben asks Gabriel and Kasey.

“Yeah! Going for four years, right?”

Kasey nods after a long sip of her margarita, “That’s right.”

“And uh, you're cool with your boyfriend getting a lap dance?” Ben motions in front of him.

“I'm planning to get one.” She shrugs, “So it's okay if he does too.”

“Nice, nice.”

Gabriel and Kasey’s relationship held it’s ground ever since they first met in college. Being the older brother that Miguel is, he did get worried when they moved in together after eight months of dating. Their relationship lasting five years later was reasonable proof that they were going to last.

“What about you?” Ben asks Xina, who’s been nursing a shirley temple. “Looking to stuff some money in someone’s bra?”

“Oh, no thank you.” She frowns while shaking her head.

“Why not?” Pixie asks, beating Ben to the punch.

“I’d feel…awkward.”

“We don’t bite, babe.”

“Except for Black Cat. I’d steer clear from her.”

Miguel lights up seeing you walk up the bar. The tool from your two piece outfit glimmering under the club lights. A burgundy color that’s still easy on the eyes despite being surrounded by rhinestones. The curls from your high ponytail cascading down your shoulders. You’re beautiful. Miguel swallows the word from the tip of his tongue.

“Finally, you stopped fretting over your hair.” Pixie traces her fingers through your strands to also make sure it’s on point.

“I have guests.”

Kasey squeals, getting up from her seat to hug you. Her slightly chiseled arms enclosing around your frame perfectly.

“I can’t believe I finally get to meet you! Miguel can finally stop hiding you from us.”

“I wasn’t hiding her…” He mutters.

“I’m glad I get to meet you all too. It was time.”

Miguel notices Gabriel’s hands itching to hug her, but the former warned him of not suddenly grabbing the dancers unless he wanted to get kicked out. Kaine is working today and Miguel knows he can be very rough. You open your arms wide for him though and Gabriel giddily hugs you. The action being very brief.

With Xina, you stuck out your hand, knowing a hug was probably too personal for her. She gladly took it, trying not to make the exchange more awkward then it had to be.

“Why are we all chilling at the bar?” You look around, “Thought you guys came in here to have fun.”

“Oh I did.” Kasey says, “I want my first dance to be from an expert.” She wraps her arms around your own.

“Anything for my regular's friends.” You wink at Miguel who smiles against his glass.

You call up Emma, a dancer who comes in occasionally. Her white one piece made her easy to spot anywhere in the club. She does a finger wave along the crowd.

“I have a couple here so I thought it’d be best to do a duo.”

Emma’s blue eyes light up, “I’m down.”

You motion Gabriel and Kasey over, smiling at their excitement.

“Behave yourself.” Xina drones while swirling her drink with a straw.

Miguel leans against the bar, “Are you sure you don’t want to go out there?”

“I’m sure.”

He glances at you and you shrug, leading his brother and girlfriend to a better spot. Miguel wasn’t surprised at his best friend’s behavior. Xina’s prone to sticking to a corner of the wall at a party, red cup in hand while she watches everyone else enjoy themselves. He does it occasionally, but hoped that his friend would try tonight.

“You know, I’m going to force you.”

“Then don’t.” Xina slurps her drink, “I’m fine right here.”

“How old are you again?”

“Don’t you start with me.”

“I’m just wondering…”

“She doesn’t have to see a dancer if she doesn’t want to.” Pixie cuts in, now on the other end, stretching her limbs. Her outfit is easier to see now, with the short, matching green skirt and heels catching the club lights. “Although, that does defeat the purpose of going to a strip club.”

Xina scoffs, “Your friend invited me here.”

“I know.” The trail Pixie’s eyes drags along Xina’s frame is addicting. Slow and deliberate. “Like I said, you don’t have to. But…I thought you liked pixies.”

The blush on Xina’s face is apparent when she sighs. She places a ten dollar bill on the bar before taking Pixie’s hand. Miguel gives a thumbs up when his friend looks back. When they disappear into one of the rooms, he relaxes his shoulders. He wants everyone to have a good time and have a better reception to you.

Ben happily grabs another drink for Miguel, placing the soda down. “You know, I’ve never seen a regular drag his family and friends to meet a stripper.”

“I have nothing to hide.” Miguel admits. “A strip club is like any other establishment.”

Plus, you and him were still trying to keep your relationship secret. Even with Jess now knowing, you were adamant on not telling the entire club your business.

“Yeah filled with half naked dancers and alcohol. I think the deli across the street does something similar on the weekends.”

They share a laugh. The tenseness in Miguel’s body slowly fading away.

“Seriously though, it’s a cool mindset to have. I wish everyone had what you think, Science Guy.”

He blinks, remembering your surprise at his openness. “I just…think that way.”

“Smart, cute, and open minded. Who could ask for a better man?”

A strong, spicy fragrance hits his nostrils. That signature white hair makes its appearance when Black Cat appears beside him at the bar. Her bare arm touching his own. Everything about her appearance is striking, the black bikini while still wearing platform heels to make her tall. The white hair covers her shoulders and back. Miguel ignores the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere.

Ben shakes his head at her appearance, “You need anything?”

“A shot of vodka.”

As he prepares the shot, Miguel tries to focus on his drink. Your words in his head warning him not to talk to the popular cat. Or else you’d lose him too. Since you revealed that she steals your regulars.

That wasn’t going to happen.

Black Cat faces him and quickly downs the shot. Any traces of liquor, she wipes it away with a flicker of her fingertips. While her piercing, silver eyes stare into his soul. Miguel wants to look for you, have you come to his rescue again.

“Why are you all alone?”

“J-Just waiting for some friends.”

She tsks before pouting. “No Silk this time?”

“She’s doing a dance for someone else.”

“Ah…” Her hand rests on the bar. Black, polished nails match her attire. “You look so lonely sitting here.”

“Oh no, no I’m okay.”

“You sure? Being in a club like this all alone can spell all kinds of trouble.” As she speaks, her fingertips slowly inch towards his hand. The scrap of her nail causes him to jolt, placing his hand on his lap.

Of course she notices.

“You’re so adorable. It’s like you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not…”

“You should be.” Ben peeks back in, “You should see that time she scratched the fuck out of that guy last year. I heard he was so close to losing his eye because to her.”

“Ben.” Black Cat glares and he puts his hands up.

“What? It’s true-”

“Don’t you have bartending to do?”

“I’m doing it, kitty cat.”

She rolls her eyes when he flashes her a smile before focusing her attention back on Miguel. He hopes that Ben stayed nearby longer, but he was called away once more.

Black Cat didn’t stop with her advances, scooting closer to him. Her scent is giving him a headache.

“You wanna know why everyone favors me the most?”

“Sure…”

She leans forward, lips grazing his ear. Miguel’s entire body stiffens at the contact. “Because I have the best pussy in the entire club.”

When she parts, her eyes are lowered, locked on him like a predator. Ready to eat. Miguel needs you here.

“I-I see.”

“If you want to see for yourself, all you have to do is ask…” She runs a hand along his back, finally walking away. Miguel turns around in his chair, eyes searching the club for you. Among the sea of lap dances, money flying across the room, you’re walking back with an ecstatic Gabriel and Kasey in tow.

They practically bum rush him at the bar, shouting with excitement.

“I can see why you picked her.” Kasey nudges his ribs.

“I think I threw almost two hundred on the floor.” Gabriel starts counting his fingers.

“Oh I blew four I’m sure.”

You snicker, “I’ll let you know when I count it.”

Miguel's relieved to see you when he abruptly stands. It catches you by surprise, causing you to stumble.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

You wave at the two and lead him into your usual private room. The door is hardly closed when Miguel is on you, strong arms pulling you close to his chest.

“Wait, Miguel! My makeup!”

He quickly parts, doing a quick inspection to see if he did some real damage. Thank goodness it wasn’t bad. Just hints of your concealer and lipstick on his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes.”

You snort at his quickness, “I missed you too, but we can’t get too crazy. I got my dance in a few.”

“Okay.”

Miguel embraced you, a quick kiss turning into a careful make out session. His hands digging into the tool of your outfit, breathing in that sweet scent he’s familiar with, blocking out Black Cat’s smell. You show him you miss him just as much when you find his shirt to tug on it. Obviously wanting to take it off but not able to.

“I'm surprised you couldn't wait until Thursday.” You say against his lips, playing with his shirt. “You know where we have forty five minutes instead of the usual thirty.”

The way you accentuate forty five makes the blood rush to his cheeks. You still couldn’t believe that he lied to Jess in order to get more time with you at the club.

“I just needed you.”

“Aww, baby.”

Miguel didn’t want to bring up his interaction with Black Cat. You'd end up distracted and upset at the words she said to him, ergo affecting your performance on stage. He'd just tell you later.

“While you're here,” Your face turns sour. “my mom wants to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I told her about going to the banquet with you and she told me she wasn't comfortable with me going anywhere until she meets you. You could kill me at the hotel or something.”

You let out a short laugh while his stomach churns.

“I'm not going to kill you.”

“You sure about that?” The concern on his face got worse and amuses you more. He relaxes when your lips press against his cheek. “I'm joking. I know you wouldn't. But we need to put my mom at ease.”

“I'm okay with whatever. I want to ease your mom too.” Miguel moves to kiss your head, but hesitates. Instead, he holds your hand and kisses along your knuckles, not wanting to ruin your makeup even more.

“You're sweet.” One last kiss to his lips and you had to go back out. “I'll text you about it later.”

He follows you out and rejoins his family in the crowd. Xina is back, face fully red. Miguel wants to pry into what happened with Pixie when she wasn’t anywhere to be found. But the hype from the crowd at the start of your performance pulls him away.

Miguel locks on to your body pressed along the pole, highlighting your breasts. A ripple amongst your thighs as you spin, feet high in the air and catching the stage lights. The shimmer from your outfit fills the dark crowd. Screams and shouts covering the wide space. Kasey and Gabriel holler the entire time while Xina simply watches. There’s no hint of disinterest in her face, which Miguel can take as a good sign.

The DJ, Lyla, hypes the crowd up into throwing more money in your vicinity. A cascade of dollar bills coats the stage and you submerge yourself in it. A mirage of green replacing your skin.

Miguel’s heartbeat can be heard if the music wasn’t loud. How you soak up the crowd’s applause is admirable. He catches your smile and your eyes when you finish. Everything about you is so attractive. So sexy. He loves that he’s the only that has you. No one can take that away.

“She’s cool.” Xina says. That small bit of approval pulls her into a hug filled with gratitude.

“I told you that you’d like her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She pulls away from him, faking disgust at his affection. “Just…be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Miguel wants to be careful.

Dana causing irreputable damage to his heart wasn’t in his bingo card for the year. What he has with you right now though, he wants to enjoy it. Hoping to whatever god out there that you won’t do the same to him.

It’s why he’s so nervous about the shareholders banquet.

He’s never expressed that to you in his words. The excessive planning and booking gave it away.

This would be the first time you two took a trip together. Heck, even spending the night with one another. Sleeping in the same bed. Your body an inch away from his. For an entire weekend.

It's why he was doing double, triple checks on everything. Making sure his gps was all set. The hotel booking being to your liking. He wonders if he should change up rooms. Maybe you’d want a private room to yourself. You do value your privacy.

When he brought that up to you though, he’s awarded with a frown that made him feel small. Right in the middle of the produce aisle at the grocery store a few days later.

“Now, why would we get separate rooms?”

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I will be. With you.”

“What if he’s not comfortable? Did you ever think about that?” Your mom questions, putting a bag of onions in the cart.

Miguel shyly pushes up his frames when you suck your teeth, “Are you uncomfortable? I don’t have to go if you’re not-”

“I want you to go.” He doesn’t miss the small smirk your mother makes at his lack of hesitation. “I’m not uncomfortable. Your comfort is my top priority.”

“And so is yours.” Your mom observes a huge watermelon in the box and Miguel is already there. She does a ritual of wrapping her knuckles against it, before taking a small whiff. With her approval, he picks up the fruit, settling it gently in the cart.

“Thank you, baby.”

You shoot a thumbs up towards him when your mom turns her back. Who knew a way of impressing your mother is by tagging along grocery shopping? Your text about it happening didn't shock him. He meant what he said about putting your mother at ease.

With the planning of the trip, grocery shopping can relax Miguel’s running mind. But his feelings are too important not to share.

“I just…” He stops when your mom is checking out bread, “I’m…nervous.”

Your brows raise, “Why? What about?”

A million things. Presenting at the banquet. Seeing Dana and Tyler. Traveling alone with you. Being alone with you. In a hotel known to value intimacy and privacy. Where his mind lingers on making love to you.

“…a lot of stuff.”

You shake your head, “Pick one of the stuff.”

The two of you move when your mom walks further down the bread aisle. It gives him time to come up with an adequate answer for you. Obviously, he wasn’t going to bring up that he wants to fuck you in front of your mother.

“It’s the first banquet without…her.”

“Who’s her?” Your mom pops in, placing three loaves of bread in the top of the cart.

“His ex-fiancé.” You pick your mother up to speed. “The one who cheated on him with his boss.”

“Oh her! Fuck her.”

“Mom-”

“What? Anyone who does that to me is not worth my time or thoughts. Plus,” She observes Miguel with an up and down glance, “who would want to cheat on this man?”

It’s nice to know he has your mother’s approval now.

“I don’t want it to be awkward...” He admits.

“Oh, it’s always gonna be awkward. But just don’t let it get to you. Or you.” Your mother points to you.

You accusatorily gasp, “Why are you saying that to me?”

“Because you tend to feel some type of way when it comes to stuff you don’t like.”

“Alright…” You turn your head away.

Your mother’s words hung on Miguel’s ear. She's right, it's always gonna be awkward. It matters on how he deals with it. He wasn't going to let Dana's appearance ruin his weekend with you.

“I’m so glad you’re taking my baby away for the weekend.” Your mom says while pointing to a few spices at the top shelf. While Miguel grabs them and hands them over, she continues. “All she ever does is go to work, come home, watch tv, and sleep. Sometimes she might be with her friends, but that’s rare. And I’m not talking just about Tempest. Your other girlfriends.”

Miguel glances over to you in question. You mouth ‘Pixie’ and he understands.

“That’s not all I do.”

“You know it’s not good to lie to your mommy.”

You huff and disappear over to the frozen aisle, leaving Miguel alone with your mom. The silence is brief besides the slight hum from freezers. While he helps your mother grab frozen vegetables, she strikes up another conversation.

“So, does your family know about your trip?”

“Yes, they’re aware.”

“Even your mother?”

Miguel pauses, trying to figure out what to say. His mother knows about his trip, but not that he’s taking you. It’s a conversation he wasn’t mentally prepare for. He didn’t want to hear the usual of you being a rebound or that you’re using him for his money. And a sprinkle of the relationship being so soon from his break up from Dana.

He’d rather hold that off until he’s ready.

“Yes.”

Your mother nods and you come back with a few bags of pizza rolls. Before she can say anything, you cut her off.

“I’m paying for these.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“I can pay for them.” Miguel offers, “I know how much you like them.”

“No, thanks. I got it.”

He pouts, large brown eyes peering over his thick frames and to your eyes. You poke the inside of your cheek before kissing his own. Miguel can’t help the smile that comes out and amuses your mom.

After finishing up the grocery portion, your mom needed to grab some toiletries. It reminded you to grab some yourself for the trip. Miguel was okay, his bag already packed and ready to go. Done a week in advance.

“Y’all don’t need condoms?”

“Did you really just…” You hide your face under your palm at her comment.

“Don’t act like that. I don't want you coming back pregnant.”

“I won’t!”

“Yeah, okay.” Your mom grabbed a few boxes and put them beside your pizza rolls. “I’ve seen that hotel you’re going to. If you’re trying to tell me something is not going to happen, know that I don’t believe you.”

The blood rushes to Miguel’s cheeks while you don’t even try to look at him. Instead, you grab one of the boxes and put it back while your mom’s back is turned.

“I have plenty of condoms.” Miguel whispers.

You smirk, “And you’re saying that to me because…?”

“I…I just thought you should know.” He wasn’t flirting, although he can see how his words can come across that way. Thankfully, you see his serious face and shake your head.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the trip at the store goes well. Miguel surprises your mother by paying for her groceries and yours. Both of you protest in saying that he didn’t have to do that, but he wanted to. He was planning to slyly pay for yours, but he thought why not your mother’s?

She grabs his face and gives him the biggest kiss on his cheek as gratitude. Paired with a ‘You smell good’ comment.

Miguel wanted to help place the bags inside your home, but you stopped him, saying that you didn’t want him to deal with the rest of your family yet. He negotiated and you allowed him to place the rest of the bags on the porch.

You kiss him goodbye, lingering a little under the embrace. Miguel holds back in saying he wanted to bring you back to his apartment, to spend more time with you.

But he’ll have the entire weekend with just you and him.

Miguel went over his checklist.

Bags are in the trunk, air on low, gps set to the hotel, and you're right beside him. You match his attire of the ride, your huge zip-up jacket and matching black sweatpants radiates comfort. Dana always complained about his casual appearance, his baggy pants and loose shirt didn't pair well with her short, sparkly dress and high heels.

She wasn't the one driving for two hours.

He loves how you manage to maintain your cute yet comfortable clothing. Miguel also tries not to focus on how you're putting on lip gloss. Your lips forming a shine that makes him want to ruin it.

“You ready?” He asks when you put your lip gloss away.

“Yes I am.” Miguel chuckles at you putting on your seatbelt. He waves at your family waving goodbye to you before pulling off.

Sweat forms against the steering wheel. The big, bolded numbers of the timeframe of your destination. He isn't sure how he's gonna entertain you for more than 2 hours. Dana usually falls asleep thirty minutes in.

“Oh, you're taking I-95, right?”

“Yes.” He thumbs against the steering wheel, “Is something wrong?”

“No. I wanted to see if we can stop at that big gas station that's about halfway into the trip.” You pull out your phone, quickly showing it to him at a red light. “They got these sandwiches and milkshakes. I haven't been there in months.”

That sounds fun. He's always wondered what that place was like, but Dana pushed about getting food nearby the hotel.

He realizes he hasn't said anything and you pause.

“Oh, sorry, I should’ve asked before while you were planning…”

“No, no we can go there.” The excitement in your eyes kickstarts his heart. “I've never been. You mentioned milkshakes?”

You hum, “I got your sweet tooth, didn't I?”

Miguel avoids eye contact, which makes you laugh.

You go down the list of the potential choices. He settles on cookies and cream while you go for strawberry cheesecake. The music from your ‘road trip’ playlist in the background. Neither of you had a chance to move on to sandwiches when one of your favorite songs started to play.

He blinks and your phone is away while you're rolling your hips in your seat. Miguel is able to get a glance at your body moving to the beat. All sensual and fluid while you're singing at the top of your lungs.

His starts singing along too, albeit not knowing as much of the words as you do. But he's able to ad lib.

The car then turns into a sing-along.

The songs from your playlist are a lot of the ones he recognizes, helping him stay engage during the journey. While Dana was asleep, Miguel tuned into podcasts, various tracks to keep him entertained. He'd admit that it got boring after a while.

Now, in another life, he had a chance of becoming a rapper with the way he kept up with the songs.

At the halfway point, you point to the gas station you mentioned.

It was huge. Multiple lanes for said patrons to pump gas and be on their way. As well as a parking area in front.

Miguel didn’t need gas, he fills up right before reaching the hotel. So when he parks you almost fall out of the car with enthusiasm. His brief look of concern fades when you pull him inside.

Aisles of snacks and drinks on each side of the building. There was a decent amount of people coming and going. You headed straight for one of the touchscreens, right in front of the workers who were making other orders.

There were so many options to chose from. Yes, you mentioned there were sandwiches but there are so many. Hot and cold. Club sandwiches or hoagies. What did he have a taste for? They were going to be on the road for at least another hour. He didn’t want to get something to upset his stomach.

“Maybe I should go for something light.” He mentions, “I’m already getting a shake.”

“And you’re driving. Good idea.”

You point out to a few selections of wraps and that’s good enough for him. Meanwhile, you go for your drink of choice and a meatball sub. While waiting for your order, Miguel grabs some waters and you make a beeline for the candy. You pick his favorite which was sour peach rings. You also grab a bag of trail mix that contained more chocolate than nuts.

After Miguel pays for the snacks, your food is ready. There you two walk out with bags in hand, sucking on your milkshakes.

“Okay, you need to taste this.” You say after getting settled in the car.

Miguel leans over when you hold out your cup to sip, humming at the taste of cheesecake. “That’s good.”

“Isn’t it? I miss going to this place.”

“You said you haven’t been there in months right?”

You nod, unwrapping your sandwich. The scent of the marinara sauce from your sub makes his mouth water. “It’s just because we haven’t gone anywhere past New York. We’ve mainly stuck in the city.”

“Ah.” Miguel cradles the turkey wrap in his hand, taking a small bite.

“Didn’t you and Dana take this highway whenever the banquet comes around?”

“We did.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before. This place has a little bit of everything.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Unsure what to say without painting Dana in a bad light.

“Dana…has finer tastes.”

“She’s bougie.”

“N-No…well…” Miguel stammers, “S-She just prefers going to higher quality places. This gas station isn’t on her criteria for finer items.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Once again, saying she’s bougie.”

He stays silent about that. You wasn’t wrong, but he never saw her that way. Ever since his promotion, Miguel strived to get her better things. Fancier accessories and finest places to show off his upper class status.

“It’s my fault.” Miguel doesn’t miss your eyes softening, “I made her that way. Why she’s into high quality things.”

You tsk, “It’s not. There’s a difference between spoiling someone and someone taking advantage of how they’re being spoiled. It’s a small difference, but it’s there.”

You turn towards him in your seat, careful to not make a mess. He’s looking at you now. Your face is gentle.

“You don’t deserve to be taken advantage of.”

Miguel’s heart twists, every beat of your words hanging in his head. “I know…”

“Good.” You quickly wipe your lips on a napkin to give him a big kiss on his lips. He takes in your lips, hint of marinara on them.

Not too long after you finish up your food, clean up and head back on the road.

The second half of the trip was relaxing.

Your music was still on, but remained turned down. The two of you ended up talking. Nothing as serious as the conversation back at the gas station. Just about various topics. The tv shows you were watching, trying to get Miguel to watch some of them. You were able to convince him of this show about a serial killer in Florida.

He went on about his game Candy Blast. How he’s maintaining his top five streak with Margo. That he completed enough levels to keep him by for the banquet weekend. Margo will let him know when he’s slipping since she’s always on that game. You intently listened, nodding your head and humming.

Soon, you two were almost at the hotel.

Miguel drove into a backroad, surrounded by trees. He always imagines arriving at the hotel as if he was in a movie. The way the trees fold away, revealing a grand hotel. A cobblestone driveway, a tall, black metal fence surrounding it. Grass being so green that he’d think was artificial. He smiles at your gasp when he pulls up to the front where a man runs out to greet you.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sunset Grove Hotel!”

He opens the door for you and helps you out. Miguel pops the trunk and grabs the bag filled with your snacks and water. He’s by your side as another person comes out to assist with the bags.

Walking inside the hotel will always be a dream. It’s as if the sun kissed the inside with the white walls and gold colored trims. Cream colored seating and pristine clear floors that almost looked like glass. Hotel guests lounging in the seating area, sipping on drinks from the complementary bar.

“Welcome back, Mr. O’Hara.” The front desk worker greets, “It’s an honor to host you again this year.”

“The honor is mine. I enjoy your services every time.”

You quickly tap his shoulder, “I gotta go.”

“Oh, I can come with-”

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” You squeeze his hand, “I’ll be back.”

With the help of another front desk clerk, they show you to the restroom. Miguel turns his attention back to the other clerk.

“Your room is almost ready for you. They’re putting in the finishing touches.” The clerk handed him a beeper. “It’ll vibrate once your room is prepared and I can give you the keys.”

“Thank you.”

Miguel parted from the desk, seeing the banner about the Alchemex 17th Annual Banquet. Sporting the blue and white colors of the company logo. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat in pondering what he was in for this weekend. His presentation is ready, he had his cue cards ready to go.

He’s going to see his ex-fiancé and biological father together and if he went alone, he’d be a nervous wreck.

Even now, without you by his side, his hands are shaking, palms getting sweaty. Your mother’s words hover in his mind again. It’s going to be awkward. How he deals with it is what matters.

“Miguel?”

He turns around. The woman that troubles his mind stands in front of him, clutching her pink purse and wearing a matching, short dress. All while staring at him with her crystal blue eyes.

“Hi Dana.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch

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[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[itsjusthockey]

Hughes Your Daddy? - Jack Hughes

hahahaha finally

enjoy

request

If I get 10+ comments/asks ill make a part 2

Yes, that's me bribing you, I want more interactions

w.c: 3,007 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

Pt.2

The last few weeks of college are the worst weeks of a student's life. There’s nothing but studying, finals, and pure hell. Yet, when Ellen Hughes calls and tells you to get on a flight to Vancouver to be present at the Hughes Bowl, you fucking get on a flight to Vancouver.

The flight itself is terrific; you study a bit of your flashcards, drink some hot cocoa, and even get in a solid half-hour nap. You honestly feel a little sad when the intercoms go off, and they announce your descent into Canada.

The sadness washes away quickly when you clear the clouds and realize how excited you are. This trip, tomorrow’s game, is a very, very special event. Each Hughes brother will be playing on the ice tomorrow night, and you’ll be sitting, as requested, in the Hughes box overlooking it all.

As soon as the 737 touches down, you’re quick to switch your phone off airplane mode. You appreciated the few hours of bliss without endless notifications, but life has to go on. As soon as the iPhone gets service, a flood of messages rolls through. One from Ellen, to which you respond. Two from Quinn, which you answer. And 36 messages from Jack, which you ignore.

You should respond, and you will, but first, you have to get off the plane and find your favorite chauffeur.

Without further delay, you exit the plane, grabbing your carry-on and swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You smile at the few flight attendants on the way out and throw an extra thank you to the woman who gave you some extra cookies when she saw your flashcards.

The Vancouver airport is bustling, and you can’t help but feel the positive vibes radiating from the space. The entire airport is decorated for Christmas, and you’re reminded why it’s ranked one of the best airports in North America.

You make your way to the baggage claim, checking your phone to ensure you’re heading toward the right spot. You are, and while you’re walking, you pass all the cute little shops. You see a couple of little knickknacks, and you make a mental note to pick up something on your flight back. Now, however, you must focus.

The baggage claim area is pretty full, and you’re dodging people left and right. You’re unsure in the sea of people where Quinn might be hiding until you hear your name shouted from somewhere to your left. You turn your body, and there he is, waving a bit and standing with a small smile.

“Oh my god, is that Quinn Hughes?” You say in mock shock as you get within his earshot. “The newest captain of the Canucks and Vancouver's most precious gem?”

He rolls his eyes back as far as he can when you approach, but nonetheless, he pulls you in for a hug.

“Please stop.” He groans out as your part and takes your carry-on from you.

“Never.” You smile as he leads you out of the airport.

It takes mere minutes to get to the car, and you both catch up about whatever. It’s been months since you’ve seen Quinn, and whenever you’re with him, you’re reminded why he might be your favorite besides Ellen and Jim, of course.

As soon as you are settled into the passenger of Quinn’s car, he reaches back behind him and pulls out a small gift bag.

“Here, before I forget.”

You give him a questioning look, and he just gives you a slight smirk.

“Just open it. It’s more of a gift to everyone else.”

You squint your eyes a bit suspiciously but pull the tissue paper from the bag. As soon as you do, you see the familiar blue and white colors, and a laugh burst from your lips.

“Oh my god.” You shriek out, laughing, pulling the Canucks jersey from the bag.

You both immediately start laughing, and you can hardly contain yourself.

“Of course, you don’t have to wear it for the game.” Quinn says. “but he’s gonna flip if he sees you wearing it when they get here.”

You scan the Jersey and agree with the boy next to you. Your boyfriend is very possessive when it comes to jerseys, and he hates everything that isn’t red, black, or white and doesn’t have Hughes 86 plastered on the back.

“Oh, this is gold, Quinn.” You say, tucking the jersey back in as Quinn moves the car out of the lot.

“Ma and I thought so, too. She said it might humble him for the night.”

Speaking of humbling your boyfriend, you reach for your phone and go to text him back. You scan the many messages and roll your eyes at a few. Most of them are him just wanting attention, but the last one catches your eye.

we’re 2 hours behind ur flight. No fun or smiling before I get there

You read the text allowed to Quinn, who rolls his eyes at the statement, and you’re quick to shoot a response back, telling Jack that it’s too late and you’re having the best time ever.

————————-

As soon as you step through Quinn’s front door, you hear a happy yell, and Ellen is pulling you in for a long-awaited hug. You practically melt as she squishes you, and the happiest of laughs exits her.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy this worked out.” She says to you, pulling back just enough to look at your smiling face.

You look behind her as Jim is standing nearby, waiting his turn. You give Ellen one less squeeze and then turn to the original Hughes and give him a big hug.

“Hey, kiddo,” He says. “Glad you’re here.”

As soon as you say your hellos, you move to get your stuff settled into your room. As quickly as you can, you throw your stuff down and pull on the New Jersey, making your way back out to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter, Jim laughs, and Ellen raises her hands to her mouth.

“Oh, Jack is gonna hate it.” She turns to Quinn and laughs, using him to steady her.

“Oh, we know.” You say, high-fiving Quinn as you grab a cup of some water.

As soon as you get your water, you all settle into the living room, and questions are flying left and right. You talk about school, work, and whatever else comes to mind about the time you’ve spent away from them. They hang onto every word, and you can’t help but smile. You’ve always been close to Jack's family, but when the one-year mark passed, it’s like they fully accepted you as one of them. Now, almost two years in, Ellen and Jim treat you like the daughter they never had, and they tell you often how much more they like you than any of their sons. You always laugh, but you know deep down that you are special to them. And that fact alone makes you consider yourself one of the luckiest girls.

“They just landed,” Quinn announces. “Almost showtime.”

Ellen winks at you from her space on the couch, and you settle deeper into the comfortable space, counting down the seconds until your boyfriend walks through the door.

—————————-

About half an hour later, you hear loud commotion as the door swings open and Jack and Luke enter the building. It takes less than three seconds for Jack to yell.

“Where is she?”

You laugh at him and yell back from the living room. “I’m in here.”

In mere seconds, Jack is in the room, making a beeline toward you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a month, and you won’t lie; he looks pretty good.

You make your move and step off the couch, going to hug him, but he halts in his place a few feet away, giving you a once-over.

“Get that shit off you.”

As soon as that leaves his mouth, everyone busts out laughing, and Jack gives you a less-than-impressed look. You feel a bit bad, so you give him a small smile and lift the jersey off your frame, revealing a Devils t-shirt underneath.

As soon as you throw the jersey away, he takes two long strides and engulfs you in a hug. You thought that nothing could beat Ellen’s hug, but Jack's grip nearly breaks your back.

You pull away after a second and pry him off of you. You love him more than anything, but you’re not about to show massive amounts of PDA in front of his parents, who are sitting a few feet away.

He gets this because he lets you go and gives his parents and brother a quick greeting, then leads you away from the living room. Everyone allows it to happen, and you find yourself in the privacy of the bedroom.

“You’re funny, but you better have my jersey for tomorrow night.”

You let out a small laugh and cross the room again, linking your hand behind his head and pulling him closer to you. His hands find home on your waist, and his fingertips dip under your shirt a bit, gently squeezing.

“I promise, J,” you grin. “I’ll do my best to show support to the losing team.”

He releases a soft gasp and gives you a slight look of betrayal.

“Losing team?”

Your grin goes even wider. “Check that stats, bud. You’re in a bit of a losing streak.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, and with one quick motion, he grabs your frame and tosses you on the bed. He enters attack mode, lays his entire weight on you, and begins grabbing at your sides. You, of course, go into defense mode and fight to push him off. You fight for power for a minute before you pull your defining move. He gets close, too close, and you give him your best doe eyes. The second he catches your stare, he folds, and he puts himself at your mercy.

For the first time in a hot minute, you pull him to meet you; the second his lips are on you, you implode. It’s been too long, and there is nothing more comforting and familiar than the boy lying nearly on top of you. You kiss him for a minute, your lips molding perfectly together before you pull away, gently patting his face.

“I think your family would like to see you.”

You push him away again as he rolls his eyes.

“I see them enough.”

He goes back to try to kiss you, but you push him away, putting a finger to his lips and shaking your head.

“Come on.”

He lets out an annoyed huff and removes himself from the bed, pulling you up along with him. You make your way back to the family room and laugh yourself into the family events.

Soon, you’re all playing board games, and you find out very quickly reminded about how sore of a loser your boyfriend is. You play board games cards, and when it gets late enough in the night, you all make your way to the living room for a movie.

You watch something light-hearted, and you can’t help but feel bliss as you’re tucked into Jack's side, surrounded by the entirety of the Hughes family. It’s a nice moment, and it’s the times like this that have you thankful you’ve stuck with the boy at your side.

——————

Before the sun rises, Jack's alarm blares next to you, and you can only groan at the noise. Alarms are truly nothing but an escape from bliss, and you wish you could stay forever in this little bubble. You’re warm comfy, and you don’t mind the boy you’re cuddled next to.

But alas, he is a slave to hockey, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips and swings himself out of bed. You follow a few minutes later, moving at a sloth pace. Instead of getting fully ready, you make your way downstairs to where the smell of bacon is wafting through the house. You’re almost giddy as you see Ellen and Quinn making breakfast, and you get even happier when Ellen places a steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

“You’re an angel, thank you.”

She gives you a big smile and pours another cup for herself. As soon as you catch the time, you offer to take Quinn’s place with the cooking, to which he gladly accepts and runs off to shower and get ready for the big game.

As soon as all the Hughes boys are out of earshot, you get down to business.

“I’ll raise to fifty on the Devs.”

Jim scoffs at your bet. “I love ‘em, but I disagree. Offense has been a bit sloppy. I’ll raise to a hundred on the Nucks.”

You quirk your eyebrow, then turn to the Queen, who seems to be pondering.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I think I’m gonna say Nucks too.”

You let out a soft groan but hold your ground.

“Alright. Final bet is a hundred. Winner takes all.

You all shake hands, sealing the deal.

As if you weren’t up to gambling, you act as naturally as possible as the three boys enter the kitchen. Each one is clad in a suit, and it warms your heart to see them all together. They look adorable, and you can’t help but laugh when Ellen demands a picture. They oblige, but like every other photo they take, it slightly looks like they’re being held at gunpoint. But you win some, you lose some.

Eventually, you’re all fed, happy, and once another alarm goes off, you know it’s time. You say your goodbyes to the boys, wishing them the best of luck. You hug Quinn, do your secret handshake with Luke, and press a quick kiss to Jack's lips.

Once you finish, they say their goodbyes to their parents and make their way toward the door, but they don’t get far before Jack pulls you toward him one last time.

“You ready to watch me destroy Quinn?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a laugh. Nonetheless, you give him one last peck, swat his ass, and yell one final encouragement as he heads out the door.

“Don’t embarrass me!”

He flips you the bird as he gets into Quinn’s vehicle, and you smile and give him one back as you head back into the house.

You sit back down to finish talking with the parents l, and time ticks by faster than you’d like. Soon enough, it’s time to get ready, and you throw on your devil's jersey. You say a little prayer and hope they all do good. Things like this don’t happen often, and you hope it’s simply a good game.

———————

You smiled as wide as you could as the three Hughes brothers posed for a couple of pictures. You could see the distaste on all their faces, but they did it anyway.

Once they do the appropriate media, the game begins, and you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. It’s a good game, no, a great game. Soon, the first period is almost over, but not before your boyfriend has to remind everyone who he is, and he scores a goal.

It’s known that the Hughes parents don’t show much emotion at the games, and even more so when it’s their sons playing on opposite teams. So you control yourself, but you don’t miss when Ellen squeezes your hand.

The game continues, and it’s a nail-biter. Each minute you watch, you get more and more tense. Maybe it’s because you’re just nervous, or perhaps it’s the fact you have a hundred bucks on the line. But either way, you pray the clock ticks faster.

It doesn’t, but once Luke scores, you can’t help but start to think that this might be the end of a losing streak. You laugh on the inside because, of course, all it takes is a little brother rivalry to get the Devils back into motion.

———————

When the clock hits zero, and the Devils win, you practically die in your seat. You’re so thrilled for Jack and Luke, but a small part of you is a bit depressed for Quinn. But you know, if anyone can handle a loss like this, it’s the eldest Hughes, so you’re not too worried. Instead, you focus on your boyfriend, who, even from the box, looks the happiest he’s been in a while. He was given the title of the first star of the game, and you absolutely love it when he’s like this. You know he’s going to be in one of those unstoppable moods. You love it, but he can be a cocky little shit, and you know he’s going to be almost insufferable. You’ll take it, though, and embrace every part of it.

A few minutes later, the area starts clearing, and you’re all getting ready to leave the box, but you almost forget what is happening when Jim slides you a crisp hundred-dollar bill and winks at you.

“Jack really pulls out the stops when you’re at a game.”

You let a blush creep onto your face as you take the bill. You’d be lying if you said that you felt bad. This isn’t the first game you’ve bet on against Jim, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Alright, you two gamblers, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”

Ellen leads the three of you down to where you’ll see the men of the hour. You feel the happiest you’ve felt in a while as you follow behind them, and when you get close enough, you can hear your boyfriend laugh from a short distance. Your heart skips the noise, and as soon as he spots you from across the room, he moves as fast as lightning to get to you.

[arc-misadventures]

An Easy Prize to Win

Yang: Hey, Jaune, I’ve been asking everyone this question, guess whose turn it is~?

Jaune: Mine?

Yang: Yes it is!

Jaune: Haa… okay, what is this question of yours?

Yang: Everyone in, Atlas goes into hiding for the largest game of hide, and go seek! Where the winner wins one billion Lien! So, where do you hide?

Jaune: You’ve asked everyone this question?

Yang: Yeah, I’ve received some crazy answers.

Jaune: Such as?

Weiss: I said I would float in the sky on one of my glyphs.

Jaune: Clever.

Penny: I was going to do the same with my jet boots. Should I devise a different hiding spot?

Jaune: You both probably should.

Penny: Oh dear.

Blake: I would hide in a box, with my books.

Jaune: That seems stereotypical for a cat faunas.

Blake: Hey?!

Ren: I was simply going to meditate in a tree, and wait for it to all blow over.

Jaune: Simple, sounds just like you.

Ruby: I was going to bury myself under a pile of cookies so no one would find me!

Jaune: I take it, Nora’s idea was on a similar vein, but with pancakes?

Nora: What?! How did you know, my plan was foolproof!

Jaune: Not, really. It sounds like something you both would do. But, that aside it wouldn’t work.

NR: How so?

Jaune: You’d both eat your cover.

NR: …

Ruby: Yeah… I would eat my cover…

Nora: Me too… And, I would not regret it!

Jaune: And what about you, Yang?

Yang: I would hide down in one of the ‘secret vaults.’ But, I think, Ironwood would also be there, and would catch me hiding…

Oscar: Crap, that was my plan too.

Jaune: Well, it’s a clever idea nonetheless.

Yang: Enough about us, where would you hide?

Jaune: At my birthday party.

Yang: Pfft! What?! Seriously, what makes you think no one would find you at a birthday party, let alone your own birthday party?

Jaune: Because it was my birthday yesterday, and no one showed up.

Winter: What?! But, I sent out all those invitations to make sure people would come! Did none of you show up?!

Ruby: There was a party?

Nora: It was, Jaune’s birthday?!

Ren: Oh no…

Yang: W-What?! How come you didn’t tell us?!

Jaune: You missed the last two, when I told you. What difference does one more matter?

Yang: We didn't miss your birthday! R-Right guys?

Blake: Uhh…?

Oscar: We did my birthday…

Weiss: Why didn’t we get any invitations?!

Winter: I don’t know?! Penny: Did you get an invitation?

Penny: I did not.

Winter: What?! But, I sent you all an invitation two weeks ago for his surprise birthday party?! How come no one, but, Jaune got an invitation?!

Weiss: How come you didn't show up? You planned this whole thing!

Winter: Father was trying to us my position to his advantage in political dealings again, I had to put a stop to it before anything happened.

Ruby: So... Jaune had a surprise birthday party... where he was the only one that was invited...

Nora: Oh gods...

Jaune: There's still cake if you want some, I didn't have any.

Winter: What? Why didn't you have any?

Jaune: I wasn't in the mood for cake after having that 'surprise birthday party,' Besides, it was coconut. I hate coconuts.

Winter: Ohhh... fuck...

Jaune: I told you it was pointless to tell anyone...

Pyrrha: I'm sorry!

Jaune: Haa... don't be... Besides, no one likes to go to a birthday party they're not friends with...

RWBYONRPW: ...

Winter: I don't suppose you guys can think of anything that might fix this?

Yang: If we did, we would have already done it.

Winter: Well... shit...

///

Consider this part of the, Friends AU

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part seven | r.c

summary:

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

OR; You deal with an intruder, lose your temper and Rafe and you take a shower.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only! (oral male/female receiving)

word count: 2,6k

author's note: long awaited im guessing HAHAHAH i hope you have survived so far. finally introducing the third character of this series.... you all know him. as usual, happy reading and i look forward to hearing about your thoughts <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. seven: "tell yourself you can always stop"

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The “intruder” was standing shock still, the two of you staring at each other. You didn’t think that was going to hurt you or anything, but the rollling pin was still raised in the air, ready to strike any second. While you didn’t necessarily share the disdain for pogues as your friends did, it didn’t mean that you trusted him. He broke into your house after all.

JJ Maybank, possibly the definition of a pogue, was standing in your hallway, hands raised in defense as he eyed the rolling pin in your hand. He looked almost bored.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?” you repeated, your voice strained.

“Uh, standing. What are you doing, princess?”

You let the nickname slide, glaring at him.

“Defending myself against an intruder.”

“Intruder?

JJ barked out a laugh, his hands clutching his stomach like he just heard the funniest joke in his life, though he quickly raised his hands again when you pointed the rolling pin closer at his face.

“You just broke into to my house, what are you if not an intruder?” you asked, affronted.

“I didn’t break in on purpose!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally broke into my house??”

“Hey, to be fair, you left the door unlocked.”

“Are you blaming the victim right now?”

JJ bit back a grin, his hand slowly reaching out to lower the rolling pin. You let him, but remained wary, your arms dropping to your sides.

“What are you doing here JJ?”

JJ took off his cap, running his hand through his messy hair once before putting his cap back on.

You tried to ignore that you thought he was hot.

“I was coming out of Ruby’s and trying not to be seen by anyone, thought I could hide out here for a bit,” he explained and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ruby Evans? She has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah well that would’ve been good to know before I hooked up with her and almost got caught by said boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Figured JJ would be caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Obviously you knew JJ, but only really on the surface. You didn’t exactly run in the same circles. But you knew that Rafe didn’t really like him, neither did Topper, but mostly because JJ was John B’s best friend. Kelce didn’t really have much of an opinion except for the fact that he thought JJ was hot, so that was that. What you did know, however, was that JJ shared the same disdain for kooks that Rafe did for pogues, so to catch JJ on the other side of the island was newsworthy.

“I’m surprised you’d get caught up with Ruby,” you said. “I thought you hated kooks.”

JJ merely shrugged, grinning at you.

“Why deprave the female population of the other side of the island of an experience with me only because of something they can’t change?”

You snorted, biting back a laugh because you knew that if he thought you thought he was funny, it was over for you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes wander over you, and you stopped yourself from wrapping the linen shirt around your exposed body. This was your house and you weren’t gonna let someone else make you feel uncomfortable. Much less a guy.

“Had a pool party?”

“Something like that,” you replied, meeting JJ’s gaze straight on. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his boyish grin growing.

“Should I take it personally that I wasn’t invited?”

You gave him a look and JJ winked at you, before his face lit up, like he remembered something.

“Hey, your parents are organizing the spring fling, right?”

“Yes, why?” You asked back, suspicious.

“Well, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…” He started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need some money to fix up my bike, and the country club always pays well. But the hostess kind of hates my guts, so she’d never hire me if I applied for the job. You think you could put in a good word for me?”

It was odd how JJ was able to switch from sarcastic to bashful the minute he needed something from you. You had heard from other girls that he was something of a womanizer, and the fact that he just came out of Ruby’s house just proved the point. So you tried not to put much worth on the grin he was giving you.

Most people would probably call it charming. You weren’t most people.

“… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Cool,” JJ said, honest to god pointing finger guns at you. This guy was unreal. He turned to leave the way he entered - through the patio door - but before he shut the door, he looked back to you, one foot already out of the house. “You’re not so bad for a kook, princess.”

JJ slipped through the small gap, closing the sliding door behind him. With a deep sigh, you locked the door, pulling down the blinds for good measure before you headed back to the kitchen. You put the rolling pin back in its place, shutting the dishwasher before switching it on, trying to act like that just didn’t happen.

Turning off all the lights downstairs, you headed towards the hallway, preparing to go to bed when two short raps came on the front door before it opened, as Rafe let himself in like he had been invited over. For some reason, it made you mad. You let out a sigh as you took him in and he raised a brow at you.

“You really need to lock the doors when you’re home alone precious,” Rafe commented and you snorted under your breath.

“Tell me about it.”

He shut the door behind him, locking it and you freed your hair from the claw clip, shaking your head out, feeling a migraine coming on.

“Did you really clean up the mess in the kitchen by yourself?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I would’ve helped you,” Rafe pointed out, annoyed.

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me that you were staying over,” you retorted, just as annoyed. “Or that you were coming back.”

“Why are you being an asshole?”

Rafe’s irritation was evident in his voice and you let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Rafe. I’m just tired, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling your shoulders slump a little. “If you came to fuck I don’t think I’m really in the mood today, so you can just leave. I’ll just take a shower and go to bed.”

You didn’t wait for an answer and turned to walk into your bedroom upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. As you stripped down, throwing you bikini and the overshirt in the hamper, you thought you heard the front door shut. You tried not to let the angry tears in your eyes fall as you stepped into the shower, instead, you turned the water on, letting it drench your whole head. Fucker, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe that he’d just leave like that. Before all of this, he never would’ve just left.

Then again, you wouldn’t be in this situation either. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even heat the door to the bathroom clink open. Only when the glass door of your shower squeaked, you were made aware of Rafe’s presence as he stepped inside. You really had to work on your spatial awareness. He stepped under the shower stream, the water immediately soaking him up, your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Rafe gave you a displeased look, pressing himself against your backside.

You kept quiet for a few seconds, the knot in your chest unfurling slightly, and you found yourself leaning against him.

“I thought you left.”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Rafe’s voice was quiet as he murmured into your ear, his hand coming up behind you to cup around your breast. You bit back a sarcastic reply, because surely this wasn’t something a best friend would do.

“I wouldn’t just leave when I know you’re upset about something, you think you’re just a piece of ass to me?”

“I don’t know what we are these days,” you muttered, half hoping that Rafe didn’t hear you, but based on the way his hand clenched around your waist, he did hear. He turned you around in his arms, frowning down at you.

“Precious,” Rafe said, his voice tight. “You’re my best friend. Yes, the sex is fucking great, but it’s not worth losing you over. If you’re starting to question our friendship, we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked as the day you were born, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes, trying to clear your head. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

Rafe took a step back. It was small, he barely moved, but to you it felt like a mile. You couldn’t go back to just being only his best friend, so before he could move away even further, you reached out to pull him back in, leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him. Rafe grunted into the kiss, seemingly hesitant for a second before he all but melted into you, his hand wrapping around your hair to tilt your head further up. You lost yourself in the kiss for a second, your hands intertwining on the nape of his neck before you pulled away when it got too heated.

“I’m too tired for sex,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the warmth unfurling between your legs.

Rafe eyed you for a second, before he nodded, turning you in his arms again, his chest against your back.

“Let me take care of you.“

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the water off, before he ran his hand down your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs. Your breath hitched, pressing further into him.

“Rafe.”

“Relax,” he murmured into the skin of your neck, tongue lapping up the water droplets that clung to your shoulder. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

His hand ventured further down, one finger dipping into the warmth of your folds and you let out a soft sigh, the stress leaving your body. You had half a mind to tell him to stop, you you found yourself saying nothing. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, searching for something to hold onto while the pad of his thumb stroked circles over your most sensitive little spot of nerves, having you moan out his name.

“That’s it,” Rafe said, leaning further down so he could slip his finger into your cunt, your gummy walls opening up to his digits, your knees growing weak. Both of you were still wet from the interrupted shower, and you should’ve been long cold by now, but all you felt was Rafe’s warm body pressed up against you and the heat coiling in your lower stomach. Rafe’s movements weren’t fast paced, but he applied pressure in just the right places, you felt your orgasm coming in no time.

“Shit,” you gasped, laying your head against his chest, catching Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing a hunger in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, but before you could question it, he kissed you, stealing your breath away. The kiss was the last thing that threw you over the edge and with a small, breathy moan you came apart on Rafe’s fingers, clinging onto him for dear life. As you caught your breath, Rafe placed his hands on your waist, steadying you.

“You good?”

You let out a grunt, squeezing his wrist. “You know the shower is one of the most dangerous places to have sex in?”

“… That doesn’t sound right.”

“Shut up,” you huffed, taking your hands off of Rafe, testing your footing, before you turned, getting on your knees.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” you asked back, wrapping your hand around his cock and Rafe let out a moan, carding his fingers through your hair. “Your dick has been pressed into my back for the past 15 minutes, let me suck you off.”

“If you insist.”

Rolling your eyes wordlessly, you pumped his cock for a but, before licking a strip along his shaft, making Rafe curse above you. You only smirked to yourself, before you wrapped your lips around his cock, knowing that was all he wanted right now.

“Fuck,” Rafe hissed, his grip on your hair tightening, thought you didn’t mind, your focus solely on sucking the life out of him. Your tongue was pressing against the small slit on his tip as you moved your mouth along the length of his cock, hand still wrapped around his lower base, where you couldn’t quite reach. You weren’t a beginner when it came to cock sucking, but you weren’t a professional either. It was safe to say that Rafe was pretty content with your skills though.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you took in as much of his cock as possible, continuing to suck on him, a mixture of saliva and Rafe’s precum smearing around the edges of your mouth, making a whole mess in your face, though you continued unperturbed.

“Shit, you really give the best head prec-”

Your nails dug into his thighs, and he cut off, replacing your nickname with your real name, and you eased off his thigh, sighing softly as the head of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, hoping it wouldn’t bruise again. It didn’t take long until Rafe slowly started thrusting into your mouth, his hips stuttering that you knew he was close.

“I’m about to come,” he warned you, his voice hoarse and the grip on your hair less hard. You only let out a hum of acknowledgement, not lessening your movement until Rafe spurted his cum down your throat, groaning out your name. You took your mouth off his cock, having swallowed his bitter cum and wiped your mouth, satiated.

Meanwhile, Rafe was leaning on the shower wall, gently extricating his hand out of your wet hair, heaving breaths.

“You’re a minx,” he told you, pulling you up for a quick kiss. You only grinned against his lips, swatting at his bare chest. Nipping on your lower lip, Rafe reached behind you to turn the shower back on, to finally finish what you had come here for in the first place. Together, you showered quickly and thoroughly and as Rafe washed the soapy suds off of you, hands all over your body, it felt intimate but not in a sexual way. You tried not to think about it too much.

When the both of you were done, hands all prune-y, you exited the shower, wrapping yourself in a robe and handing a towel to Rafe so he could dry off. You did a quick run through of your nighttime routine, while Rafe watched bemusedly as he brushed his teeth, but didn’t comment on it. When you were both done, crawling into bed, your hair still damp, you settled into your side of the bed (which was a wild statement in itself, as Rafe turned off the light in the bedroom, before getting in bed on the other side. You were content to fall asleep, safe and soundly tucked in, when Rafe reached under the blankets to pull you close against his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck.

Your cheeks heated, and you side eyed Rafe as he got comfortable in bed, your shoulders tense.

“I meant what I said,” he then muttered, arms wrapped around your waist. “If you ever feel like our friendship is changing or this makes me feel like you can’t trust me, you gotta tell me precious. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you mumbled, laying a hand on his, trying to reassure him, even though your heart was racing a mile a minute. Rafe didn’t reply, and before long, his breath evened out, but you were still wide awake.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: okay real talk, how many of you guessed who the intruder was???

[brittle-doughie]

Rejoice (St. Pastry Order)

[The Lone Giant AU]

“Have you heard? The Giant is said to be walking through nearby Parfaedia tonight, they’re going to impose a curfew.”

“Really? Well, you won’t be catching me going outside then. Guess I’ll stock up on potions in the morning.”

“Is there really nothing that can be done to take care of the Giant? Has no Cookie ever tried using magic or their blades to take care of them?”

“Magic has no effect on them and not even the largest blade can make a sizable scratch. Besides, I doubt those White Mask cookies will allow you anywhere close to the Giant.”

“Oh right, those Cookies. The ones that claim that the Giant is their Divine Creator, here to reunite with their cookies once more. A whole lot of crazy if you ask me…”

“Crazy? Oh, but it is true! We have predicted that the day would come, my friends. That one day, the Divine Creator would return to us and guide us towards our destiny as one!”

“Huh? What nonsense are you spouting out this time?”

———————————————————————

[Beyond the Wall, Parfaedia Outskirts]

White Mask 1: “They are approaching! Ready the flame!”

A cookie donning a white mask hastily walked up the steps to an altar and ignites it, a blue flame roars to life amidst the dark terrain.

White Mask 2: “The High Priestess requests that the statue is placed properly!”

More cookies donning white masks work together to push a statue up the steps, before the roaring flame. The shape of the statue resembles less like of a cookie, it was more..human-like.

Two cookies watch on the display, one wore glasses along with her white nun robe that covered most of her light mint green hair, Reverend Mother Cookie.

The other one was taller than her, wearing her nun robe, albeit it was dark red in color complimented with white that did little to distract her bright red hair and eyes that bore snake slit eyes, High Priestess Cookie. (or Red Wine Cookie.)

Reverend Mother Cookie: “Everything is according to plan, we shall be ready before the Divine Creator arrives…”

High Priestess Cookie: “Wonderful, providence smiles upon you all. Have any heretics try to breach the ceremony?”

Reverend Mother Cookie: “The nearby town of Parfaedia are in the middle of curfew, no one is allowed out of the walls when our Divine Creator is nearby…”

High Priestess Cookie: “Afraid of our Creator, still. I see that the land still houses…ignorance, for our Creator only wish to save them from themselves…”

White Mask 2: “They are here! The Divine Creator has blessed all of us with their light!”

The two cookies’ attention was drawn and they make their way to a fair distance away from the front of the altar, joined with other nuns. The High Priestess stands in front while the Reverend Mother and her fellow Sisters kneel behind her in rows. The Missionary Cookie hurried into her spot after arriving to the ceremony.

Missionary Cookie: “Ah! I hope I am not too late!”

Reverend Mother Cookie: “No, my child. You have in fact arrived just in time…”

The ground starts to rumble as the approaching giant draws closer, the High Priestess can’t help to hide the ever growing smile on her face as the rumbling grew more intense.

The sky darkens as clouds form, the heat of the flame mixing with the cold air causing a fog to descend on the ceremony. The rumbling stops and despite being unable to see far off, the High Priestess knew of the colossal presence before them.

High Priestess Cookie: “O’ Blessed Creator, of whom all dough is created! Long have we waited for this day for you!”

Lightning strikes the sky, illuminating it briefly to reveal a massive shadow looming over the ceremony, the upper half of the giant obscured by the clouds. Reverend Mother spread her arms outs as did the other nuns as they looked up at the sky at their Creator.

Reverend Mother Cookie: “Rejoice, my Sisters!”

High Priestess Cookie: “We had hoped you’d return one day, O’ Blessed Creator. We have prepared all of this in hopes of earning your favor…”

———————————————————————

You leaned down to see the crowd of cookies before you better, then you noticed the little statue they made of you. It was..pretty spot on for a replica!

You: “Not bad, that’s a pretty accurate replica. You, uh, sure are dedicated to me! Er…here!”

You hand them an item you had, a pristine cookie cutter. The White Masks carefully take it and took it back to a safe spot.

High Priestess Cookie: “We are not deserving of your generosity, O’ Blessed Creator. We shall continue to spread truth and wisdom to the ignorant cookies in the land, whatever your Will commands it~”

To the side of the ceremony, three figures watch. One was proud to see the ceremony had worked while the other two were more younger and more amazed by having their beliefs made come true!

Mille-feuille Cookie: “Now do you see how benevolent and generous our Creator can be? We have long ran away from their fold, yet here they are. Willing to forgive us for the ultimate sin of the first Cookies!”

Orphan Cookie 1: “Wow, so cool! I knew the Creator was real! I’ve never doubted it for a second!”

Orphan Cookie 2: “A-are you sure they are not mad at us? They must’ve been a bit angry when the first Cookies ran away…”

What the? There were little ones here? Was this their field trip or something? You weren’t sure how to proceed, but you didn’t want to make them upset either. You fished around for something until you pulled out three candy bars, extra small size thank goodness. You handed it to the three cookies carefully.

Mille-feuille Cookie: “See? Utter generosity that we are not deserving of.”

Orphan Cookie 1: “We are not! I’ll treasure this as much as I can!”

Orphan Cookie 2: “Thank you, Creator!”

You turn back to the main group of nuns and White Masks as they kneel and spread their arms out, Reverend Mother and High Priestess Cookie included as they all rejoice.

Rejoiced for their Creator.

Everyone: “HAIL CREATOR!”

[theodorenmyth]

Hii can I request Theo, Enzo and Mattheo with a male reader. Like they know reader is gay but him (reader) is denying it so they keep teasing him, like Theo making reader touch his biceps, Enzo touching reader face, Mattheo going in just a towel in their room, and more things like that

Teasing game

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!reader x Lorenzo Berkshire x Mattheo Riddle

Summary ; Despite your adamant denial of your feelings, Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo are relentless in their teasing. Theo makes you touch his biceps, Enzo finds every excuse to touch your face, and Mattheo parades around half-naked. Stubbornly resisting, you continue to give them the middle finger and roll your eyes—until Mattheo's bold kiss changes everything, leaving you questioning your resolve and finally ready to admit the truth.

A/N : literally love this request so much 😻😻😻 enjoy!!

Warnings); none

Word Count ; 1k+

You’d think they’d give it a rest by now. You’ve been nothing but clear with Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo about where you stand. But they just won’t let it go. The three of them have been relentless in their teasing, each with their own methods, trying to break down your stubborn denial.

You’re in the common room, attempting to read a book while eating a chocolate chip cookie, when Theo plops down beside you. Without preamble, he pulls up his sleeve and flexes, showcasing his impressive biceps. “Hey, feel this,” he commands, pushing his arm in your direction.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, deadpan. “No thanks, Theo.”

“Oh, come on,” he insists, grabbing your hand and placing it on his arm. His bicep tenses under your fingers. “Impressive, right?”

You roll your eyes, yanking your hand away. “Wow, amazing. Can you leave me alone now?”

Theo laughs, clearly not deterred. “You know you like it.”

You give him the middle finger without even looking up from your book. “Go away, Theo."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

A days later, Lorenzo saunters in the common room, spotting you immediately. He sits on the arm of your chair, leaning down to your level. “Hey, gorgeous,” he purrs, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes your skin, and you resist the urge to flinch. “How’s my favorite guy?”

“Busy,” you mutter, trying to concentrate on your book. “So, if you could…”

Lorenzo’s fingers trace your jawline, his touch light and teasing. “You’ve got such a handsome face,” he murmurs. “It’s a shame you hide it behind that book.”

You snap the book shut, glaring up at him. “Enzo, do you mind?”

He grins, clearly enjoying your irritation. “Not at all. In fact, I think I’ll stay right here.”

You groan, pushing his hand away and burying your face in your book again. “Why do I even bother?”

As if on cue, Mattheo strolls in, a towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He stops in the doorway, smirking when he sees you. “Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were here.”

You look up, and your breath catches in your throat. Mattheo’s broad chest, his abs, the tantalizing trail of hair leading below the towel—all of it is on full display. “Do you fuckin' mind?” you sputter, your cheeks heating up.

He grins, sauntering closer. “What? A guy can’t walk around in a towel in his own room?”

You scowl, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “Put some clothes on.”

“Why?” he asks, stopping right in front of you. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, flipping him off. “You’re insufferable.”

“Am I?” he asks, leaning in closer. The proximity is unbearable, his breath warm against your face. “Or are you just denying how you really feel?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Get out of my face, Riddle.”

Mattheo chuckles, finally stepping back. “Whatever you say.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The days continue like this, each of them finding new ways to tease you, to get under your skin. Theo keeps flaunting his muscles, Enzo finds every excuse to touch you, and Mattheo parades around half-naked more often than not. Each time, you respond with glares, middle fingers, and rolled eyes. You refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

But one day, it all changes.

You’re sitting in your room, enjoying a moment of peace with a book in one hand and a slice of mango on a fork in the other, when the door bursts open. It’s Theo, of course, with Enzo and Mattheo right behind him.

“For the love of— what the actual fuck do you lots want?” you demand, exasperated.

They don’t answer immediately. Instead, they close in on you, a determined look in their eyes. Theo is the first to speak. “We’re tired of this game, you know.”

“What game?” you snap, even though you know exactly what he means.

“This,” Enzo says, gesturing between you and the three of them. “You pretending you’re not into us. We know you are.”

You scoff, taking a bite of the mango, munching on it before swallowing. “You guys are delusional.”

“Are we?” Mattheo steps closer, his gaze intense. “Or are you just scared to admit it?”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can say anything, Theo grabs your hand again, pressing it to his chest. “Feel that?” he asks softly. “That’s for you.”

You yank your hand away, your heart pounding. “Piss off.”

Enzo leans in, his face inches from yours. “Just admit it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “You want us.”

Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, refusing to give in. “No, I don’t.”

Mattheo is the last to move. He steps right up to you, his hand cupping your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Stop lying to yourself,” he whispers before his lips capture yours in a fierce, demanding kiss.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to react. Your mind goes blank, and all you can feel is the heat of Mattheo’s lips, the softness of his touch. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the lingering sweetness of the mango. He deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but respond, a soft moan escaping before you can stop it.

Then, reality crashes back in, and you pull away, your eyes wide.

“What the—” you stammer, your brain struggling to process what just happened.

Theo and Enzo are watching you, their expressions a mix of amusement and satisfaction. Mattheo is still close, his hand lingering on your cheek. “See?” he says softly. “Not so bad, is it?”

You sit there, stunned into silence, before the anger surges up. Grabbing a pillow, you hurl it at Mattheo’s head. “You asshole!” you shout, your face burning.

He dodges it easily, laughing. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You glare at them, but there’s no real heat behind it. Deep down, you know they’re right. And maybe, just maybe, you’re finally ready to admit it.

Breaking the silence, Theo suddenly says, "I wanna taste Y/N's lips too." After a few seconds of silence, he felt a pillow hit his face harshly.

[ilovecatilinclark]

Sweetheart

Diana Taurasi x Reader

Based of this request!

Hope you guys like this!

You were one of the players for the Phoenix mercury, you would always bake or make a small treat for the team. Often before games and practice till one day you decided to invite the team to your house. As a way to celebrate the home win and to spend some time to watch a movie. As everyone agreed you quickly ran to the grocery store and bought many items to create the dinner you planned. As you came back home you started organizing the ingredients till you hear a knock.

It was BG and Rebecca as you let them in you continue preparing the meal. Till more of your teammates come in, as you start cooking you were planning to cook some ribs and some extra sides. As you soon here a commotion in your living room you try to tune it out. But as hard as you try you hear a familiar voice from Natasha Cloud saying "Nah D you really gonna help her you for real down bad" she said loudly. As they were chuckling you decided to block it out. As Diana soon walks over to the kitchen.

As you were starting on the mashed potatoes you felt some hands on your shoulder. "Need some help dear" she said slyly, you couldn't help but blush from Diana. As you gathered your composure you quickly replied "Uh no I'm fine" you said back to her trying to not show you face to her. "I can tell you need help babe" she said chuckling as she watches you struggling trying to cut the potatoes.

As you finally sighed, you replied "Maybe I need some help, can you help me cut these potatoes darling" you flirted back felling her warm up a bit as she takes the knife from you and starts cutting. As she finishes she washes her hand and holds your waist to move you a bit over to grab the paper towel you couldn't help but blush from the act. As she finishes she ask you what else she could do you reply but helping you start on the cookies. Before you grab the ingredients you finish with your sauce for the ribs you quickly wash your hands and going to start looking ingredients.

As you grab the items she preheats the oven, soon you start pouring the ingredients for the cookie as you get some of the flour on your nose. As she soon laughs and grabs you chin soon wiping the flour off your nose while she starts wiping it some of your team walks in. About to check how you were doing as they catch you guys being super close. Until BG decides to interrupt "YOO IS THE FOOD DONE IT SMELLS HELLA GOOD" as you quickly turn around distancing yourself from Diana. "Oh shit sorry to ruin your couple moment" she says as she smiles as you blush nervously from her comment.

As you and her continue to make the cookie you feel a awkward tension trying to not talk about what had just happened. As soon as you guys finish she starts setting up the table. Soon later as you were serving you soon realize the only open seat was next to Diana. As you awkwardly sit next to her you hear her whisper in your ear. "The food is good but do you know what would be better. "what" you replied back "you and I being together" as you tried to hide your blushing face you feel her hand soon interlacing her hand with yours under the table. Soon after dinner everyone agreed and decided on a movie while everyone was in the living room you were in the kitchen preparing some popcorn.

While as Diana was in the kitchen she knew she would not be able to hear the end of it from her teammates with her helping you. Especially her and you when you guys were making cookies and you got flour on your nose. As you soon came in the whole team stopped teasing her and started getting ready for the movie as you handed the bowl. As you were laying on the couch she took a seat next to you. As it started becoming a bit more cold and the rest of the team took your blanket. As you were shivering a bit, you felt her arms wrap around you and bring you closer to her. Keeping you warm as you guys were cuddling your teammates started taking photos of you.

As the movie ended and you went to wash the dishes while playing a little bit of games with your teammates. The night started getting dark and more of your teammates started leaving. As Diana was the last one you were about to say goodbye until she grabbed your face and kissed you. "call me later sweetheart goodnight" she said as she winked walking to her car.

AN: Also sorry if there is not enough flirting

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Wands, Wizards, and Wi-Fi (Draco Malfoy)

Summary: you help Draco with Muggle Technology.

Warnings: an angry draco, but fluff.

WC: 500ish

@dawn-petrichor-world asked: I have a question. You know magic exists and one day you meet Draco Malfoy in a library struggling with a computer and secretly he tries to use his wand. Why will you do? Ignore him "destroying" public furniture or act like you didn't see his wand and try to help him. In my case, it depends, if he looks like a furious man I don't want to end up transforming into a frog 😭

A/N: we talked about this back in march of 2023!!!! i've had it saved in my drafts ever since!! lol

Read on Ao3!

--

The comforting aroma of old books filled the air as you roamed the shelves of the small, independent library tucked in a quiet corner of the city. It was a haven for you—a sanctuary where magic and reality seemed to blur. Of course, you knew real magic existed; you’d seen things you couldn’t explain, whispers of a world beyond the mundane. But you never expected to encounter it here.

At a corner table, a blonde man was glaring at a laptop with the kind of venom reserved for mortal enemies. His sharp cheekbones and tailored clothing made him stand out from the usual crowd of patrons. The tension in his jawline seemed to radiate frustration.

Curious, you wandered closer, pretending to browse the nearby books. That’s when you noticed the odd sight: his hand dipped into his jacket pocket, pulling out... a wand.

Your breath hitched. Was he really about to—?

He flicked the wand toward the laptop, muttering something under his breath. Nothing happened. The screen stubbornly remained blue, its spinning wheel mocking him.

Biting back a laugh, you stepped forward. "Need some help there?"

The man froze, his grey eyes snapping to yours. For a second, he looked almost panicked, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I don’t need help," he said stiffly, slipping the wand back into his pocket.

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Because magic definitely fixes laptops."

His face reddened slightly, though he attempted to cover it with a sneer. "What do you know about it?"

"More than you think," you replied, lowering your voice. "I’ve seen magic before. And I’m guessing you’re not from around here, are you?"

His demeanor shifted, suspicion mingling with curiosity. "Who are you?"

"Someone who knows how to make that," you pointed at the laptop, "stop spinning. Want me to show you?"

He hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, with a huff, he pushed the laptop toward you. "Fine. But if you break it, you’re paying for it."

"Relax," you said, suppressing a grin. Sitting down, you navigated the menus with ease. "What are you even trying to do?"

"Research," he said vaguely, his fingers drumming against the table.

"For what?" you pressed.

He hesitated again before muttering, "Muggle technology. My father insists we need to... understand it."

You couldn’t hide your amusement. "So, Lucius Malfoy finally decided to catch up with the 21st century?"

His head snapped up. "You—how do you—?"

"Like I said," you replied, fixing the issue on his laptop with a few clicks, "I know more than you think."

For the first time, a small smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps you’re not entirely insufferable."

"Gee, thanks," you shot back, pushing the laptop back toward him.

As he examined the now-functional screen, his expression softened ever so slightly. "You’re surprisingly useful for a... Muggle."

"Who said I was a Muggle?" you teased, standing up.

You left him sitting there, his wand forgotten for the moment, as he stared after you with a mixture of intrigue and newfound respect.

[writingwisterias]

Movie Nights

Leon Kenndey x Reader (Use's Fem pronouns)

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff! Girl Dad Leon Summary: Leon returns home to his girls who have built a fort and prepared a movie night (I thought of DI! Leon but any will do!)

Leon's keys were loud as he fiddled with the front door, your little girl giggled in your arms - the sound attempted to be muted with your hand over her mouth. Your own giggles threaten to spill as you watch her excitement. "Girls?" Leon's voice thundered through the house. Normally his baby girl would have bounded through the home, racing as fast as she could to launch herself into his arms. But there wasn't the sound of her footsteps slapping against the wood or her distant giggles from wherever she was in the house. His heartbeat quickened slightly panic trying to worm his way into his chest.

You both could hear his footsteps around the house, his biker boots thumping as he checked every room. You both giggled at the loud thud as they came to a stop at the doorway of the room you were in. Leon smiled at the sight of the fairy lights that gave the room a warm glow, only muted by the numerous bedsheets that covered the room creating a fort. His sigh was audible as he freed it, his anxiety now settling; the action making you feel guilty for insisting your little girl hid to scare him. "I wonder where my girl has gone" he chuckled, his words dramatised for effect. Leon's heart swelled as his daughter bounded out of the sheets, starfishing before him as she released the tiniest scream. The intention was to scare him but not trigger any of his PTSD that lingered after all his years of service. He pretended to jump, flinching away dramatically; holding a hand to his chest as he pretended to catch his breath.

You watched as they hugged each other, Leon's frame engulfing hers as he held her. Breathing in the sweet smell of the cheap body mist she insisted he bought her last week, she chirped, "Welcome home, daddy," she chirped in his chest. He muttered his own welcome, the sound muffled in her blonde hair. So, what's going on here, then pumpkin?" he asked her, pointing at the fort before them. The small girl giggled, "Mommy made us a fort to watch movies"

Leon smiled when he saw you, his eyes sparkingly with admiration as he saw your grin. "Did she now? I see you both have your Pj's on" He replied, his fingers rubbing against the soft fabric as he held her. She nodded, her hair flying all over her face as more giggles filled the room. This was why Leon kept fighting, in hopes he could protect the innocence of his little girl; to hide her from all the horrors of the world. "Yes! You have to wear them too or no cookies" She demanded, her little fingers poking his chest to prove her point. "Is that the rules?" He laughed. "No PJs - No cookies....no homemade cookies" You teased, a smile plastered on your features. Leon groaned but complied guiding his daughter back to you as he left to change.

He loved being sandwiched in the middle of the both of you. His little girl resting her head on his lap as she watched the same Disney princess movie, his heart melted every time he heard her voice sing along. Your head rested against his shoulder, your hands entwined as you took in this small little bubble, the fluffy blankets a cushions making it cosy and safe away from everything else if just but a moment. Leon never thought he would get the chance to have this, assuming her would be worked to the bone or drink himself to death. But since finding you, the speed dial on his motorbike lowered, and the levels in all the bottles never dropped, and finally home seemed more welcoming. Even if he did find pink glitter on all of his shirts, the specks sticking to his work boots. His laptop was covered in Disney-themed stickers; his head was constantly filled with that one annoying song he could never get rid of. He wouldn't change it for anything though- this is what he wanted; all tucked away safely in a fort....with Elsa serenading them.

[naffeclipse]

Desert Light

Cryptid Sightings/Signs of Life Crossover

Commission Info

My dear friend @jackofallrabbits commissioned me for a darling little crossover of Cryptid Sightings and their fic, Signs of Life, with @maudiemoods's permission, of course. If you haven't read Signs of Life, you really should and you can find it right here! I had so much fun writing both the cryptid hunter and the scientist interacting, and both monster boys are delightful here! I hope you enjoy <3

———

At nightfall, the desert is dipped in inky blues under a starry sky spilling over the entire expansion over your head. You forget how big the desert feels without trees or mountains to cut into its horizon as if the very heavens are staring down at you with twinkling eyes. The dry ground becomes darkness littered with muted sagebrush. The road is cracked and sunbleached, rocking your dark green truck and airstream. Along the lonely stretch of road, a convenience store with fluorescent lights cuts through emptiness like an oasis of gasoline, candy bars, and potato chips.

Moon hunches low in the passenger seat. Pale eyes gaze at you through the dimness within the truck's cabin. Patches along his nightcap catch on stray starlight, winking on the stitches you sewed by hand.

“It’s late,” he rasps in a low voice.

“I know, sweetie,” you sigh and rub your eyes while keeping one hand on the wheel. “We’re almost there.”

“You’re tired.” His hand strays across the seat to rest on your leg. His cool digits jolt you gently back to alertness.

“It’s only half an hour more,” you give ruefully. “Let’s stop here. I’ll grab a soda then we’ll be on our way.”

He grumbles, vibrating his animatronic vessel with displeasure. A word against caffeine is surely on his tongue, but the jostling from pulling the truck and airstream onto the cracked pavement underneath the almost neon-white light of the gas pumps cuts him short.

The desert hosts paranormal encounters ranging from the chupacabra to aliens. The latter is why you ventured here. Without F.E.I. providing you exact intel and evidence, it’s up to you to conduct your research and discover possible sightings but what you’ve unearthed so far has been solid.

This one in particular speaks of an alien. A towering but thin, long-limbed being spotted around a motel just as remote and lonely as this convenience store. You throw the truck in park and hop out. A lone car is parked alongside the building and another is parked further away, as if trying to hide away from the lights.

Soundlessly behind you, despite the bells tied around his wrists with ribbons, Moon appears like a metallic shadow. Hopefully, the convenience store attendant isn’t against animatronics in their store. He tilts his head for a moment towards the outermost vehicle, his pale optics narrowing before he follows after you.

If he sensed a heartbeat hiding in the darkness, he would have told you.

You pull open the door with a quiet jingle announcing your entrance. A small sign, old and worn, on the checkout counter promises the attendant will be back in a few. You deflate slightly. You had hoped to ask someone in this area about the sightings.

“There’s someone here,” Moon murmurs close to your ear like a breath from a ghost.

Quiet footsteps echo back beside the fridge section of drinks, concealed by shelves of beef jerky, peanut butter cookies, and chocolate bars. Curious, you strive forward. You might still have a chance to speak to the lone employee who may be restocking the cases of beer or soda, but when you round the corner with a cool presence at your back, you stop still.

A person straightens, clutching a few water bottles to their chest, their eyes immediately landing on you, framed in glasses. You look down to the hoodie they wear: dark fabric with a green alien face; a charming, stereotypical depiction of extraterrestrials. Do they sell those here?

“I like your hoodie.” You smile. “Do you work here?”

The person immediately fixes their glasses and beams. “Thank you. It’s a bit too warm for this climate but it’s cute. No, I don’t work here. Is that an animatronic with you?”

You blink but turn back to allow Moon more of an audience with the curious stranger. He regards them with a coolness but no malice. You give a slow nod.

“This is my friend, Moon.” 

The stranger steps closer, studying him with vim and vigor before adjusting the many water bottles in their arms. Underneath their arm, tucked into their armpit is a notebook. They lift a hand towards Moon.

“What model are you?” they ask, eager. “How long have you gone without maintenance? Your wires are exposed and your endoskeleton could use a polish.”

Moon stares. A slight twitch runs through his limbs. You step back between Moon and the stranger, your pulse jumping slightly at the spew of questions—many that have no good answers. Could they be familiar with where Eclipse found their half-burned, abandoned vessel?

You introduce yourself quickly, keeping Moon behind you and out of reach of the stranger. “What’s your name?”

They slowly lower their hand, disappointed. “Ah.” They’re silent for a moment, and you can see the gears working in their mind before decidedly saying, “You can call me Doc.”

That’s funny. Surely it must be a nickname though you have no qualms with a stranger giving you whatever moniker they please, but Moon’s hand falls to your shoulder. His digits curl slightly over your collarbone, as if in warning. Right.

“Alright. Doc,” you smile.

They smile back. “Is your animatronic—”

“I’m sorry,” you say, very apologetically but firmly, “but I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about happenings in this area.”

Doc grows still, their expression guarded. You catch their eyes flickering towards the door and then landing back on you.

“What are you referring to exactly?” they ask tentatively, almost nervously.

“There have been reports of unusual occurrences in this part of Nevada.” You wish you bought your book of cryptid information with you. If they’ve seen anything, you will need to write it down. Instead, you focus on slowly bringing them into your question. If you went around asking any person if they saw aliens right off the bat, no one would take you seriously. “Have you seen anything strange or simply unexplainable?”

“UFO sightings in Nevada are very common,” they say so bluntly, it causes you to blink. They set the water bottles down on a shelf occupied with chip bags and shift the notebook closer to their chest, holding it like a shield. “Did you know that Nevada has the highest rate of UFO sightings per capita in the U.S.?”

“I did know that,” you say, impressed that they know it as well. You lean closer in your curiosity. Do they believe in cryptids? “Have you researched such things before?”

They fix their glasses and lower their hand back to their book only to lift it again and fidget. 

“Recently I have,” they admit.

A coolness radiates behind you. In the corner of your vision, Moon tilts his head. The bell on the end of his nightcap falls over his shoulder. What doesn’t he like? Surely they can’t be a rulebreaker. Moon would have reacted much less pleasantly to such a person. 

They touch their glasses again, and the frames fall slightly askew on their face. “Have you heard anything about an alien?”

You brighten with the question. At last.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here,” you hold a hand to your chest, “to locate any confirmation or evidence about an alien sighting near a motel a little ways from here. Nothing has been reported as violent, but it’s most likely an incident will occur soon unless properly dealt with.”

Their hands furl and unfurl, anxiously touching their glasses, pushing them up the bridge of their nose, and shifting. Are they alright?

“Most of the time sightings of cryptids, including aliens, are just everyday objects seen from a weird angle,” they ramble slightly. 

You pause, watching them. Are they afraid to tell you what they saw? You’ve encountered poor, terrified people who fear even speaking a word of what they’ve experienced will mark them as unstable and insane. Even worse, it might somehow lure the presence that frightened them in the first place back.

“Yes, that’s true,” you admit, but only half of the time. There have been a plethora of hoaxes, pranks, misunderstandings, and of course, misidentifications of objects that have been spun into debunking the cryptic world, but you carry the scars from a true encounter at the base of your thumb. “But have you witnessed anything you would consider to be unearthly?”

Do they know something they can’t seem to tell you about?

Doc shifts again. Their hand strays to the notebook they carry, and touch the well-worn spine. Is it as important to them as your cryptid book is to you?

“No,” they fidget a few times anxiously, “Is there anything I can do to help you with your animatronic? I am an engineer.” 

Moon twitches behind you. Their eyes immediately fall to the movement and frown.

“Are you experiencing a malfunction?” they ask, and start to reach out again. Moon clenches your shoulder tighter.

“No, no!” You hold up your hands defensively. “That’s very generous to offer, but Moon is fine, thank you.”

They frown. Unconvinced, they continue to pry around your person to stare at the cryptid possessing a vessel. You’ve never had this problem before. So many people are put off by the strange, inexplicable presence of a demonic cryptid—a sixth sense warning of danger, but Doc heeds no such deterrents.

“He is experiencing micro spasms which may be a symptom of a conduction failure in his wires or a deeper issue within his processor.” They face Moon entirely, and he stares back unblinkingly. “When was the last time you went in for routine maintenance?”

“We don’t need maintenance,” he rasps. You cover his hand as it clenches you tighter still. A coolness swells around him and you hope Doc mistakes it for the coolness of the fridges.

Confusion twists their brow. Doc parts their lips to offer a rebuttal to a clear inconsistency with their framework and the fact of the matter, but Moon twists behind you. His grip never leaves your shoulder, his fingers digging into your collarbone as the jingle of the bell at the front of the store rings.

Then the lights flicker. A sharp fade of every light bulb overhead and even the light within the fridges drops the convenience store into darkness. Your heart tumbles in your chest. You didn’t bring your crossbow or your detector. Only a knife sits strapped to your hip, hidden by your patched, green jacket. 

Your eyes flash to Doc. You take them by the arm and their expression shifts to alarm behind their glasses.

“Move,” you whisper sharply. “Stay with me and be quiet.”

“I need to leave,” they say, strangely focused, but they don’t struggle when you guide them down the row of fridges to the last column of shelves in the back of the store. They don’t understand. Something else is here. Something not of this world. You must protect them from it.

Moon follows quietly behind you, his fingers spasming as they curl like claws. His pale eyes dip into crimson, alert and vicious. 

“Not a heart,” he mutters, and you glance at him. “Something else… Something strange.”

He stands between you, and your entire body clenches. A towering being begins to prowl under the flicker lights, slipping in through the door. You used to fear your dear friend placing themselves between you and the threat, but they are far more terrifying than any cryptid you have hunted.

The sharp contrast of the fluorescent light bulbs and the sudden darkness spears a sharp ache into your eyes. Carefully, you place Doc behind you, but they offer another protest again. 

“Be quiet,” you murmur firmly, “It’s going to be okay.”

“Ah, you don’t understand.” Doc’s eyes fall past you, towards the frosty doors of the fridges. “He’s—”

A sharp scratch of nails cutting over glass causes your shoulders to hunch up and a grimace to twist your face. You free the knife from your hip. It is the only defense you have for you and Doc. You should have been prepared for the alien to strike here, so close to the original sighting site, now creeping in close to find more precious victims to devour.

Doc reaches out, past you.

“You have to let me pass,” they say calmly. “He wants me.”

You turn to look over your shoulder, confusion painting you in flickering lights.

“Who does?” you ask.

The glass scratching stops. You stiffen, reading your knife as Moon tenses. Creeping from the row of fridges, a figure straightens. Tall and spindly, but with an unnerving aura of strength to his long limbs, an alien stands before you. Deep red and galaxy-speckled skin coats him, and you catch a strange symbol on one of his hands, like the moon eclipsing the sun. A dark hoodie with an alien ship covers his lanky form poorly—not unlike Doc’s. A sharp crown of jutting adornments sits upon his head. A waving veil of starlight falls behind his skull. 

His three eyes, bright and glinting, like a predator about to bounce, immediately find the person behind you. One eye is dark. His grin splits into a wide, hungry thing with razor-sharp teeth.

“My light,” his voice is low and dangerous, “I have been waiting for you.”

Behind you, Doc looks up at the towering, otherworldly beast, but there is no fear in their eyes.

“Stay back,” you immediately brandish your knife. Moon spreads his arm, ensuring that there is no passing him without going through him.

A dark chuckle falls from the creature.

“You dare think you can keep my light from me?” He spreads his arms, four limbs of sinew and bone, claws flashing with a desire to rip flesh from a body. “I will give you one chance to let my light go.”

Moon stands tall between him, silently gauging him like a proper opponent. Is the alien taller than your sweetie in their true form? You’re afraid he is.

“No,” you breathe, “You’re not taking them.” 

A soft sound arises behind you, distress mingling with breath. Doc must be terrified of the abrupt encounter. How could they have ever known an alien would mark them as his quarry?

A snarl rips through his chest, deep and vicious. His hands grope the surrounding shelves, fitting between cookies and candy bars. His hand swipes a few basic camping supplies, spilling ropes and canisters onto the ground. He catches a stainless steel one in his lower set of hands. In effortless brutality, the alien concaves the metal before his claws pierce the container entirely, crumpling it as if it were a soda can. Your gut clenches. 

“I will paint this tasteless floor in your blood,” the extraterrestrial growls, gnashing his teeth.

In response, a sharpness erupts from the sides of Moon’s chassis. Shadowy appendages, seeping black ooze over bony limbs with hands and claws of crimson, stand at the ready. You suck in a sharp breath.

“You will not touch a hair on our heart’s head,” an abysmal sound leaves the animatronic, layered and demonic.

The alien tilts his head, eyes widening at the challenge. 

“My, my, and what are you? No matter, I will tear you apart.” He laughs again, echoing with chilling amusement. Dread hooks deep into your belly.

“Eclipse, it’s okay.” Doc moves underneath your arm. 

Your knee-jerk reaction is fierce. You catch them by the back of their hoodie, scrunching fabric in your fist to keep them tethered close to you. They stop and look back at you. When they smile, it’s heavy. Guilt touches their edges, anchored by worry. 

“Ah. I know he’s frightening, but he’s not going to hurt anyone.” They tug on their hoodie, trying to loosen your grip. “You can let me go.”

“Yes, let them go,” the alien licks a dark tongue over his teeth, “and I might spare you all.”

“What—no, he’s…” you stumble over your tongue then stop, confused. “Do you know this cryptid?”

“Ah. Alien,” they correct you. “Yes. Eclipse would like me back now, please.”

Moon glances at Doc. Confusion pulses in his crimson gaze. The end of his nightcap falls over his shoulder. 

“They’re not afraid,” he rasps. He stares down at Doc’s chest. He can sense a heartbeat, the rhythm of it, and how fast it gallops in a person’s chest.

Your lips part wordlessly. 

There was a time when you believed cryptids were only monsters. Machines capable of great destruction and horror. You never dreamed a demonic cryptid would be capable of kindness and goodness, and care so much for little ones.

Your fingers slip from the fabric. Moon allows Doc to sweep underneath his arms. Their eyes fall to their shadowy limbs, and their hands shift to their notebook. Your heart clenches, caught in the camaraderie urge to take notes of your sweetie’s true form and fearing what Doc would do with such information. F.E.I. is still out there. There are other cryptid hunters. 

But they stop themselves. Fixing their glasses, they quickly step back into the alien’s reach. You clench the knife tighter, afraid as four pairs of hands descend upon them.

“We need to leave quickly,” Doc says as the alien kneels and hunches lower to look over the human, combing for harm or mistreatment. “We’ve already made a mess and stayed here for too long.”

“This isn’t a mess. Yet,” the alien answers, his voice murmuring like a lover in the night. The threat is not lost on you as Moon growls a warning. The alien flashes a smug smile, all teeth, and arrogance before he concludes his checkup on Doc. “Let’s go, my light.”

Doc nervously looks back at you, almost as if they would look to say more, explain, or even ask you about Moon’s extra, shadowy arms. Instead, they weakly wave, like this is a goodbye they wish didn’t have to happen.

The alien lifts them into his arms as if they weighed as much as a feather.

“Wait,” you step closer. Two arms, one metallic and blue, one shadowy and crimson, stop you. He keeps you back from the otherworldly being. “Are you safe?”

The alien scowls at you. Doc only smiles softly. 

“Yes, friend.” Their eyes linger on Moon. “You’re so impressive. I would love to know more about you.”

A ripple of what you think is jealousy takes over the alien. He turns away with a flash of teeth, and steps quickly, sweeping through the store and out the door with a sharp jingle. In moments, the alien carries the small human out into the night. You stand there, stunned. 

Moon straightens. “Their heart is still steady. They feel safe with him.”

Oh.

Moon slowly faces you, two arms touching your sides and holding you close. You lean into his embrace.

“I hope they are,” you murmur. The lights stop flickering in the gas station and the stars outside shine brighter in the darkness. A car speeds away, down the desert road.

[sunflowersteves]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

[narrycherries]

✹ Perfect ✹ one-shot / Fluff

Harry addresses an issue you’ve been hiding from him..

masterlist

word count: 3k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, soft!harry, sweet, fluff, mention of weight gain/loss, mention of sex

A heavy sigh slipped past your lips as you walked into the living room. Harry was sitting in his desk chair in the middle of the living room, his eyes fixated on the television as he played a video game. He had a headset on, talking to his friends while they played. You had just finished blow drying your hair after your shower - your plan was to go to bed.

You approached him from behind, and trying not to scare him, you tapped his shoulder and appeared at his side.

“Hold up.” He said into the headset before he pulled it off and laid it on the ground. He twisted the chair to face you, his big hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you closer. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah..” You mumbled, giving him a soft smile. “Just gonna tell you that.. I’m going to bed.”

He furrowed his brows, he had just checked the time a few minutes ago so he was slightly confused. “This early?”

“Yeah.. m’tired.”

“Feel okay? Not feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, just sleepy.”

He pursed his lips for a moment as he looked at you, trying to catch any signs of sadness or maybe pain, but you were just being honest. You seemed tired. He snaked his arms around your body and pulled you close.

“I was gonna bake some cookies for you when I got done.” He was slightly frowning, but you tried to ignore it.

Your arm went around his neck, your fingers curling into his hair. “That’s so sweet, bubby.. but m’so tired.”

“I’ll make them tomorrow then.” He gave you a grin.

“Sounds perfect.” You ran your fingers through his scalp, pushing his hair back.

“Do you want me to come to bed early? I can get off this.” He slightly nodded his head toward the television.

“No, no.” You pulled at his roots. “You’re okay. I’ll be fine. I’m so sleepy.”

He sighed, but gave you a gentle nod. “Okay.. if you need anything at all.. call me, alright?”

“I know.. I will.”

“You always come first, babe.” He reminded you like he always did whenever he was with his friends or playing the video game or in any situation where he thought maybe you’d need extra attention.

“I love you.” You leaned down to kiss his lips, which he returned.

“I love you more, sugarplum.”

Harry was always so sweet and caring towards you, and that pet name was one of your favorites. It was reserved for when he was concerned or worried about you, and right now you knew he was unsure about everything. He could tell you weren’t feeling well, not in a physical sick way but in some sort of way. He just didn’t know why and he didn’t want to push you to tell him. If you wanted him to know, you’d tell him.

“Keep the bed warm for me, hm?” He said as you took a few steps back, trying to walk away without being rude.

“I will. Warm and cozy.” You promised while his hands fell from your sides and you created a wider distance. “See you in the morning, bubby.”

“Sunday mornings mean the best breakfast spread.” He gave you a wink.

“Y’know I love your pancakes.”

“Sleep tight, lovey. I’ll handle breakfast.”

“Alright, ‘night.” You softly said as you reached the doorway.

“Goodnight.”

It didn’t take you long to get in the bed and try to get situated. You laid there for a while, trying your best to fall asleep naturally but it was hard. Your mind was racing with thoughts and you were unable to stop them. Even your heart seemed to beat a little faster than normal.

Eventually, you pulled up a video on your phone and let it rest on the pillow beside you as you listened to it with your eyes closed. You were hoping it would just slowly allow you to drift to sleep. Of course that wasn’t working for you tonight. Usually, Harry was in the bed next to you. If he wasn’t going straight to sleep, because most of the time you fell asleep first, he was either reading on his phone or cuddling you. Right now, you missed his warmth. You felt lonely, yet you were somewhat glad he wasn’t here. There were things in our mind that were bothering you, and you feared his presence would only worsen them. It had nothing to do with him, it was all your own issue.

You weren’t sure how long you had laid there when the door creaked open. Harry saw your phone on the pillow, and the light from the screen lit up your face. He sighed softly to himself and walked over to your side of the bed, which actually was his usual side. He didn’t mind, but he knew something was up. Your eyes were barely opened, but you were awake. He leaned down, his hand touching your shoulder.

“Baby, I thought you were sleepy, hm?” He whispered, watching your face closely.

Your eyes opened a little more. “I am.”

“You.. went to bed two hours ago.. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“M’fine.” You quickly said, closing your eyes.

“I’m done in the living room.. I’ll cuddle you in just a minute, okay?”

You swallowed a small lump that was forming in your throat, but you didn’t decide to say anything back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking off his clothes and walking to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Part of you was upset that he was about to be in the bed with you. You didn’t want him to be near you right now, you had no desire to touch him or feel him against you. Then, the other part just craved him so bad. You needed him next to you to sleep, and if you finally fell asleep then the thoughts lingering in your mind would fizzle out. It wouldn’t be that easy, no matter how hard you tried..

When Harry laid down behind you, a heavy feeling began to form in your stomach. You felt extremely nervous, but you hoped that you could push it all down and just ignore it. As Harry’s arm slid under your neck and his warm hand touched your hip, your throat began to go dry. You shifted slightly, moving your butt away from his crotch. He noticed, but didn’t say or do anything.

“Mm, got it all warm under here, honey.” He said with a chuckle as you readjusted the blanket over your shoulder. Him moving around had messed it up a little.

When you didn’t reply, he furrowed his brows and moved his hand closer to your butt. You started to chew on your cheek, a wave of nervousness was flooding through your veins. Harry definitely could tell something was going on.

“Baby, do you want to.. get extra tired?” He began to knead your ass, slow and hard like he knew you liked.

“No.. not.. not tonight.” You said through a heavy exhale as you gently shifted your hips, trying to silently tell him to move his hand.

“Sure? I can make it quick.. tire you out.” He had a smile laced in his words, and any other time you would be up for it - but not tonight.

“Harry, no.”

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You quickly huffed back.

He moved his hand to the side of your thigh, still trying to be affectionate without making you uncomfortable. “You.. you haven’t wanted to do anything.. the past three weeks.”

The reminder of that made your heart drop and your eyes begin to water. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, not over this, but it seemed like that’s where you were headed. Harry was rubbing your thigh slowly, creating a nice heat against your skin. That usually calmed you down easily, but you were not breaking out of this mindset anytime soon.

“Have I done something to make you upset?” He asked in a gentle voice.

“No.” You shook your head. This had nothing to do with him.

“Okay.. I wish you’d tell me.”

You stayed silent, not wanting to admit to him what was on your mind. You had been thinking about the same thing all week, and before then it was on and off the previous two weeks.

He put his hand back on your hip, and you let out a huff. “Harry.”

“What?” He sounded confused again, and he honestly was. It wasn’t like he was doing anything crazy.

“Just.. stop.”

“You don't want me to touch you here?” He said while sliding his hand down to your stomach. You immediately felt your chest tighten. “I won’t mess with that spot.”

“No, stop!” You suddenly yelled.

Harry hissed as your nails sunk into his skin and you ripped his hand away from your stomach. You shoved his arm back and scooted away from him. He was baffled by your sudden actions, and it was very alarming to him. He was so unsure of everything. Did he do something wrong?

“Baby, what’s wrong? I.. I didn’t.. mean to..” His voice trailed off solely because he didn’t even know what to say.

“I don’t want you to touch me right now!” You were crying now, tears slipping down your face as you tried your best to pull yourself together. It wasn’t working.

“Darling, what’s going on?” Harry asked as he pushed himself up on his elbow, trying to get a better look at you. You were covering your face with your hands. “I don’t understand what I did.”

You groaned into your palms and moved them so you could speak. “You didn’t do anything!”

“Then what the hell is going on?” His voice was louder now, but you could tell he wasn’t angry - he was simply confused and worried.

“My stomach, Harry! I.. I’ve gained weight.”

As the words sunk into his brain, he let out a deep exhale and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had to address the topic of your weight with you, and it’s not going to be easy. He licked his lips and swallowed harshly. As he stayed quiet for a few moments, you feared that he was disgusted, that he was holding back his anger and disappointment in you.

You started to whisper softly, your words barely audible to him. “I don’t want you to see it.. It’s gross and nasty and.. and I hate it. I hate the.. the way i look..”

“Baby, don’t say that.” He closed the space you shared and put his arm around your body.

“M’gross, Harry. It’s gross!”

You tried to push him away, not wanting him to take notice of where this weight gain was. But he wouldn’t budge, he wasn’t going to let you lay there and think you were gross. He leaned over you a bit, just so that he could kiss your temple and cheek while he whispered to you.

“Baby girl, you are not gross.” His warm breath made your skin melt, but it wasn’t helpful enough to calm you down.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is this why you haven’t.. been wanting to have sex?”

You tried to shrug him off of you, but once again, you failed. You recalled all the times he’s tried to get you in the mood these last few weeks, all the attempts at teasing you and kissing you and touching you.. none of it worked. You were always tired, but you were just faking that.

“I.. I don’t w-want to disappoint you.” You finally spoke back, your words were like daggers to his heart.

He maneuvered your body so that you were now on your back and he was leaning up to see you. His hand slid underneath your head and the other went to your cheek. You couldn’t resist wrapping your hand around his wrist, pressing his hand even harder against your skin.

“Don’t you ever, ever think you could do that, honey. Never, ever.” He shook his head, and you felt your own heart break at the frown that was covering his pretty lips.

You looked at how nice his collarbones and shoulders were, how fit his chest was, how tight his abdomen was.. how strong and fit and handsome and perfect he was. You felt worthless.

“You.. you’re so.. strong and.. and you have the perfect body.. I don’t.. want people to look at me and.. think that-“

“Hey, no, don’t even say that.” He interrupted you quickly.

“Harry, I can’t.. stay.. healthy or.. or beautiful, I’m sorry.”

“Where is all this coming from, darling? You are the most beautiful, perfect woman on this planet. I adore every little inch of you. Why are you.. you acting like I would hate you all of a sudden?” His brows were stuck in a furrow, and you just knew he was upset.

“I dunno.. I.. I just don’t.. like.. how I look now.”

He moved his hand down to your jaw, this thumb began to rub against the corner of your mouth. “Where do you think you’ve gained weight? You look no different to me.”

You closed your eyes and squeezed them as tight as you could. Harry watched as a few tears were pushed out from the corners of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hoping and praying that would help. He wasn’t sure if anything could actually help right now.

“My.. my belly.. I.. was layin’.. on the bed the other night and.. and noticed.. how much further it.. comes over my panties.”

Harry immediately knew what you were referring to. That part of your body has always been one of those iffy spots for you. Sometimes you didn’t care, other times you hated it.

“Your tummy is perfect, darling.”

“No it isn’t.”

Harry sighed, and that caused your eyes to open. You were so worried that he would get angry with you, whether over your attitude or over the fact you had gained weight. He shook his head gently and leaned down to rub his nose against yours. You pouted your lips out, your heart was aching.

“Can I.. see?”

“No, Harry.”

“Let me see.. or let me feel it.” He said in a calm voice while slowly pulling his hand away from your face.

You kept hold of his wrist and allowed him to move his hand under the covers. You hesitated at first, but soon laid his hand over the area. Harry pressed down, then started to rub circles into your stomach.

“I love every piece of you. Every inch, every spot.” He said while continuing the gentle rubs.

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I feel nasty.”

“You aren’t, though. You look perfectly fine to me, baby. So beautiful and perfect.”

Even though you knew he was being honest and serious with you, because he never, ever lies to you about anything, you just couldn’t believe it. How could he be okay with this? You wondered, how could he want to have sex with you? How could he tolerate the changes? It wasn’t as serious as you thought.. but of course telling you that would be impossible.

“You know that I love you, right?” He said with a serious lift of his brows. You grunted, but gave him a nod anyway. He licked his lips. “Let me hear you say it.”

“I.. I know you love me, bubby.”

“Then why are you so upset over this?” He pressed down on your belly again. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I dunno, Harry.”

He pressed his lips to yours and you whimpered as he pecked your lips a few times, not trying to overdo it, just simply loving on you. He pecked your cheek, too, before he started to move. You grunted as he pulled away, but watched as he moved down to your belly. He pushed the blankets away and slid his hand to your waist. You felt big tears forming in your eyes, these were different from the sad tears, as he started to kiss a trail over your tummy. His hand had made your skin warm and somewhat calmed you down.

“I don’t ever want you to think you’re gross. That.. that hurts me, baby. Makes me think m’not doing something right.” His lips were brushing your skin as he spoke, making you tingle.

“You do everything right.” You told him as you sat your hand on his head, your fingers slipping into his hair. “I.. I love you so much.”

“I love you so, so much.”

He stayed down there for a few minutes, just kissing and rubbing your skin. You felt a lot better with his attention being showered on you. It was a relief. You had spent so many nights just wishing you could cut away the weight that had appeared.

“Hey, I know one thing..” Harry said as he leaned up. He returned to where he had been before, his hand was still on your waist though. “This is why you haven’t been eating a lot lately, hm?”

You frowned, not thinking he noticed that. You tried to be subtle with it, clearly that failed. He gave you a gentle smile and you could see the love in his eyes as he stared at you.

“I don’t want you to starve yourself.. A couple pounds is perfectly normal for anyone and not eating is worse for you than gaining weight.”

“I know.. I’m sorry.”

He sighed softly. “You don’t have to apologize for this.. but please, don’t be mean to yourself, okay?”

You nodded, whining lightly as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I won’t anymore, I promise.”

“If.. and only if.. you want to lose weight.. we can cut back on some things.” Harry said with a smile, he could tell you were feeling better. “But.. I don’t want you to think I want you to or that you need to, okay?”

“I know.” You smiled back. “I.. I just felt so bad.”

“And there’s no need for that, is there?” His smile grew. “You know I love you. And you’re perfect, even if you won’t admit it.”

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, your arms going around his strong back. You felt so safe under him. “Thank you for being the sweetest man, bubby.”

He chuckled in your ear. “Anything for you, baby girl.”