#guess it’s self deprecating hours

[bi-writes]

i need to stop comparing myself to the other wonderful writers here but damn is it so hard.

[shilo-sumac]

sometimes i wonder who the real version of me is. if all the masks are removed... i think id just be an empty slate

[lucky-draws]

9.6.23

[malachitezmeyka]

Me: So yeah, in the Sacrifice AU in order to cope with her trauma Suiren develops an alterhuman thing where she thinks of herself as a malevolent swamp spirit, both to feel invincible and to prove everyone who turned against her right, in a "you want me to be the villain? Fine, I'll be the villain" kind of way. They think of her as evil and rotten and an omen of doom? Okay, so be it, maybe she is all those things and more, much more than they can ever imagine. She'll show them all

My brain: Mhm, mhm, and I suppose your intense self hatred, the endless criticism you face from everyone in your life, the unyielding sense of impending doom hanging over you like a dark cloud, the hysterics you fall into whenever you think about how this endless every day battle won't end with highschool and you still have to go to uni afterwards and then work every day of your life until you eventually drop dead, all the while knowing you will never be loved like you want to because there are more As in your aspec identity than in your report card which, combined with everything else, makes you want to say "fuck it" to every last expectation, stop putting in the effort, ignore assignments and stop caring about receiving bad grades, not do any studying at all and wing your exams and fail to get accepted anywhere with the low scores you'll likely get if you do that, effectively throwing your whole life away, just so your parents can finally be justified in calling you a disappointment, just so you can actually be as bad as they make you out to be and so much worse... has nothing to do with any of that, then?

Me: ...... oh for FUCK'S SAKE–

[inkskinned]

people have to make their own choices and make their own mistakes and you know that but you're on your third gin cocktail.

she's almost-angry while she talks. "he took the train with me. all the way home. it's an hour in the wrong direction." she's got a bright yellow raincoat and round glasses. she looks cute and thoughtful and like she reads books a lot. she's his type and you know that.

the bartender rolls her eyes and points to you. "he drove this one to her grandma's house. six hours both ways."

you were younger then, hadn't ever kissed a girl yet. were still saying "bicurious" because of your irish catholic family. it was so long ago skinny jeans were still socially acceptable.

and you'd met him, and he'd been perfect. his narrow face and dark hair and his wry self-deprecation. and - okay, yes, the fact he was a singer/songwriter was also hot. you liked the feeling of sundays with him, the two of you noodling through his new songs together while you slowly learned to play bass guitar. you liked writing his name on your converse. you liked his ironic "mom" tattoo and his fancy coffee obsession and his scrappy handwriting.

you didn't know, then, what kind of man he was. maybe he didn't either; he was young too. you say it into your earl-grey-gin-something. "he has... a playbook, i guess. the things he does... he does it with everyone."

she looks at you with wide, beautiful eyes. jesus christ, she's young. "we stood outside in the rain, just talking," she says. "i know that can't be fake. i have a ton of, like. examples here. he's a good guy. you should have seen him. i'm not, like, a complete idiot."

did you play defense attorney with him like this? did you bristle when others warned you about how quickly he leaves women?

you gnaw the thin black straw and stare at the other side of the building, where his band is setting up to play. you have no true rage against him, but it's not fun to watch him ruin other women. "did he get you a little stuffed animal yet?" yours had been a panda.

she stares at you and then nods, just once, stiffly.

you hold out your hand and start listing things, weighing them on your fingers. "did he tell you that he'd never seen someone like you, that you move like a dancer or something?" at her nod, you continue. "buys you ice cream and then drives up to the river to watch the stars? shows up at your place just because he missed your voice? takes you to the pet store to look at the fish?"

the bartender points at you. "don't forget he does that little dog game he does."

you close your eyes. you remember him in his stupid leather jacket, bouncing on his toes. he'd gotten the petstore clerk to allow him to handle a ferret. you had vibrated with joy, wrestling the noodle bodies from hand to hand. and then he'd said we're going to live together. we're going to get a big dog and a big lawn and -

"you get into a fake fight about what you'll name the dog," you monotone.

"chili," she says. she sets her jaw a little higher, and you catch a flash of muscle clenching. "we settled on chili. it's gonna be an irish setter."

the bartender snorts while she maneuvers deftly through making a batch of espresso martinis. "sounds about right. now i've got two rotties, but when that shit happened to me? we chose Portland. and we were gonna get a samoyed." she snorts again. "as if he could afford that grooming bill."

you had actually started that conversation in the pet store. you wanted a big, slobbery dog. a mutt, but a big mutt. something mastiff-like. something that you could walk alone at night with. your family has a tradition of "letting the dog name itself," where you'd write all the potential names on a piece of paper and then throw them. whatever the dog went to, it'd be the dog's name.

but he had said name it something girly since it's so big. he suggested Lavender or Pansy. at the time you'd thought it was funny and cut and sort of sweet. he wanted to pick up a dog from the ASPCA that weekend, he said. i'm gonna go get us Lavender. you hadn't learned yet that he would promise you a river but never even deliver a raindrop.

"it's like this every time, babe," the bartender says, not unkindly. "i'm sorry. i've seen too many like this, and you seem like a sweet kid."

the other woman bristles. "i'm not a kid. thanks for your advice. but." she stands up, slaps a ten down, stalks away.

the bartender looks at you and holds her hands up and shrugs. you shake your head and look down into the drink, stirring it idly.

"do you think he's written her the four lines yet?" the bartender asks, pushing a drink to someone.

you almost flinch, but don't. you'd been in the back shed, practicing together. he said he had a present for you - the beginnings of a new song. really just a couplet more than anything, barely more than 30 seconds. it should have made you feel glorious, feral, glowing.

but you had stood there, realizing you had books of songs about him, none of which he ever agreed to play. the song he'd written you had floated through the room and you felt strange and disconnected and insane all at once - it was such a vapid, stupid stanza he'd made. and then he said that terrible phrase - i love you babe.

and you had been suddenly both very out of your body and also very present, thinking: oh my god this guy is a buffoon and i'm wasting my time. the spiralbound notebook with pages of poems and lyrics and stories you'd written for him is now stashed in some rubbermaid. you'd wanted to burn it at first, but the effort had exhausted you.

the four lines of song are usually pretty banal - something about her eyes, something about her smile, something about how she's special. but they work. they always work, because people want to believe in the magical commodity of love - that it cannot be manufactured.

later in the night you watch that man get on stage and sing punk rock to a thinning crowd. he takes the time out of the setlist to try out a "new song" that goes out to his girl in the crowd, all of 30 seconds of music. he says he likes her eyes and her smile and she's special.

you think about stopping her physically. you think about showing her the group chat of exes in your phone. you think of how young she is - maybe 22? - and how you, at 22, would have told your current self fuck right off. you had believed it too, after all. people need to make their own choices. besides. maybe you're wrong. maybe this time it actually is that precious, starry, once-in-a-lifetime love.

you see her kiss him afterwards, her cheeks pink. it looks like a puppy being swallowed by a wolf. you have to check the floor to make sure no blood was spilled.

[defmaybe]

last night's mascara

12 Days of Christmas: Day 11, January 4th, 2025

Dreamcatcher’s Lee Gahyun x Male Reader

3.1k words

Christmas Masterlist

What a boring ass party.

It’s the thought that has been lingering inside your head for the last two hours. The decorations? Daft. The song choice? Lame. The conversations? Rote. So, there you are, one hand on your phone, the other fiddling with your fingers restlessly. Should’ve bought Balatro when it was on sale.

You scroll your Twitter feed aimlessly, pressing likes on the fan sites’ pictures of your favorite groups—fromis_9, Red Velvet, (G)I-DLE. It’s the only way to escape this party without raising much suspicion.

Well, not until Gahyun notices you standing in the corner of your eyes.

“Not enjoying it?”

You almost drop your phone on the ground, good thing you can balance it with your hands.

“Shit, y–yeah,” you reply.

Gahyun giggles softly, covering her mouth with the glass of champagne in her hand. She’s in her red and white Christmas dress, one that shows off a lot—her shoulders, her legs, her ample cleavage. Fuck, she looks so tantalizing.

“So,” she says. She’s pulling you into a conversation. Abort. Abort. Abort!

“How was your day?” she asks, “Wait, oh my god, that was a terrible question. I’m sorry if it’s too plain for you.”

It’s over for you.

“No, no, it was–great. I’m fine,” you reply. “How are you?”

Gahyun chuckles. “A bit drunk, but still standing!” she says with a bright smile, twisting her foot coyly. God, she looks gorgeous.

You only shoot a smile back at her. You don’t know what more to say. It’s difficult for you to continue the conversation like this. You can’t do this.

“Hey,” she continues. You’re finished. “I can keep you company here if you want.”

She’s kind, but you’ll have to say no. You aren’t good enough to hold her right here. You don’t have anything to talk about!

“Ah, I–I appreciate that, but I don’t think you’d enjoy my company,” you decline, taking a sip of the champagne in your hand.

She giggles, and you fall victim to your own self-deprecation once again. You just can’t stop pushing people out, can you?

Fuck.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, come on!” she encourages. You’re taken aback by her enthusiasm to be with you. Is she really enjoying your company? Is it a dare? Is she just toying with you for her own entertainment?

“O–Okay, Gahyun,” you stammer.

The conversation begins at the expense of your solitude. It’s seemingly unending. You’re involuntarily dragged into an exchange with the talkative Lee Gahyun. However, you’re slowly dragged into her charismatic presence. You’re somehow not stuttering anymore? Goodness gracious! She’s a good talker. She’s a good listener. She’s genuinely comforting to be around.

“So–speaking of music, have you been listening to anyone recently? Well, outside of k-pop, it’ll be too boring,” Gahyun asks.

You contemplate a bit before you answer, “Well, I’ve been listening to Gracie Abrams a lot lately. Do you know her?”

“Gracie Abrams–hmm–is she the one who opened for Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah!” you happily answer. She’s really full of knowledge. “I started listening to her a few years ago. Quality can be choppy sometimes, but I still like her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” she says with a giggle. “That’s why you’re drawn to her.”

You can only chuckle at her warm words. God, she really knows how to reel you in. 

“What about you? Who have you been listening to?” you ask her the same question back. Normally, you’d be beating yourself up for not changing the question, but with Gahyun, it feels like you don’t have to worry about anything.

Gahyun laughs, cutely covering her mouth while doing so. “Well, mostly Billie Eilish, her new album. Have you heard it yet?”

“Oh, yeah! I love Birds of a Feather a lot. Wait, let me guess yours–uh–” you pause, trying to guess her favorite from the album.

Gahyun adoringly smiles, waiting for your guess. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the light, but, fuck, are you having a crush on her?

“Chihiro?”

“Aww~ that’s close! It’s actually my second favorite,” Gahyun says, pouting cutely. You can only awkwardly giggle along to cover the embarrassment from the mistake.

“I actually love Lunch the most, to be honest,” she says. “Makes me click my heels, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean–I also like Lunch, but–uh–it’s just not as sad as Birds of a Feather.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s definitely interesting!” Gahyun says. “So, you like sad songs? Do you like–uh–have any to recommend to me?”

You give her a few songs. She nods in acknowledgement. The exchange continues into the night. It flows so lively that you get lost in her charm, over and over again. You find out about her dog at home—Bae. You find out that she loves pineapples on pizzas. You find out that her favorite TV show is Goblin (yes, that Goblin).

As it goes on, you can’t help but steal glances at her body, even if you know how inappropriate that is. You’ll use the opportunity when she looks away to take in the view of her ample cleavage or her meaty thighs. She looks so good, so deli–

“Hey,” she derails your train of thoughts. “Did you just–stare at my tits?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long. Your hands tremble in fear of getting called out. You should say sorry, now!

“F–Fuck, I–I’m so s–sorry, Gah–”

“Zip it,” she cuts you off, putting her index finger on your lips. “I don’t want excuses.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. You’re being mentally cornered by Lee Gahyun, the company darling. God, you’re beyond fucked. Your whole life is being undone because of a slip. Fuck.

Then, she whispers into your ear.

“Meet me at the women’s bathroom in five minutes.”

You nod with your eyes closed slowly, before she departs from you, giving you the view of her hips swaying before disappearing into the crowd.

—

The women’s bathroom smells of air purifier, it’s taken care of well. It’s brightly lit. You find Gahyun standing in the middle of the room—arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’s waiting for you.

“Come here, lock the door,” she orders, gesturing you to her. Her voice is much, much more stern than in the ballroom, but there’s also–something else. Is she mad at you, or is it something else?

The door clicks shut, leaving the bathroom only for you two. You slowly walk towards Gahyun, who’s looking at you expectantly.

The air thickens with anticipation. The silence is heavy. You’re stuck in the bathroom with Lee Gahyun. She doesn’t seem too pleased with your presence here, but why would she be calling you here, then?

“So,” she starts. You close your eyes shut in fear. “Anything to say before we start?”

You shake your head vigorously, hoping that the admission would lessen the punishment directed at you.

You hear a wicked laugh, as she starts to circle around you. Your body trembles in fear. Fuck, what is she going to do with you. Is she going to beat you up? Is she going to berate you?

“Are you sure that you’ve locked the door?” she asks from behind you. You can feel her breath on your neck. It’s terrifying.

“Y–Yes, Gahyun,” you stammer out.

“Good. Now, take off your pants,” she orders sternly. Wait, this isn’t going where you’ve expected.

“Wait, do you want me to–”

“Take off your pants, yes,” she finishes your sentence without any hesitation. Determination shines in her eyes.

“O–Okay?” you utter, before reluctantly unbuckling your belt. It’s so hard to come off when your hands are literally shaking like this. Your breathing becomes erratic with each second that passes by.

“Faster,” she sternly commands into your ear. Her warm breath touches your skin, eliciting goosebumps everywhere. Your hands quickly take off your trousers as she orders, leaving your lower body in your boxers. The outline of your erection becomes visible under them.

“Good,” she says, the warmth of your hand emanating into your firm ass. “Now, if you’d show me what you’ve been hiding under this–garment.

You immediately comply with her order, sliding down your tight boxers in a hasty motion. Your hard cock springs free from its confinement. It twitches in the anticipation of what’s to come. Gahyun presses into your body from the back, making your ass touch her warm crotch. Her perfume pervades your nostrils, making your legs wobble like jelly.

“Hmm, excited, aren’t we?” she coos. Her right hand reaches from the back to tease you. She leaves just a little space between her hand and your cock. You wish you could just grab her hand and make her touch your hardness right now, but that’s not how you play this game. You can only wonder how Gahyun can hide this side for so long—the side that dominates the shit out of you.

“Do you want me to touch it? Say it.” Her hot breath brushes against your ear, teasing you, pushing you towards the limit.

“Y–Yes, I want you to touch it, Gahyun,” you utter, mind going all haywire from the sheer intensity of her body warmth against your back.

You hear Gahyun giggle mischievously from the back, before her hand latches onto your cock firmly, making you groan in sheer ecstasy.

Slowly, she begins her dirty display on your cock. She lazily drags her hand up along your length, eliciting a shudder from you. When she’s at the top, she makes sure to take a swipe on the tip to make you moan. Your brain is now filled with nothing but her otherworldly handjob she’s giving. She feels so good.

You moan and whimper in her tight restraint, naked from below the waist. Her hands are slowly jerking you off with an unmatched mastery. Her smell is intense—her perfume, and something that’s explicitly her.

She slowly finds her rhythm, knowing when to pump, knowing when to swipe. She goes faster, eliciting guttural groans and whimpers out of you. 

Your cock is being fondled by the company darling, and that thought alone sends you into rapture. She’s the same woman you see every day. She’s the same woman you’ve talked to. She’s the same woman who everyone loves. Now, she’s jerking you off in the women’s bathroom, making you moan and whimper.

Maybe it’s the sheer intensity of the situation, you can feel your loins tightening. Your body becomes rigid. Your breathing becomes erratic. You’re going to cum in Lee Gahyun’s hand!

“You know, I’ve been told a lot that I have nice lips,” she says. Her hands remain a little too eager to finish you off. It’s becoming too irresistible to cum right now. You can feel the tension rising within your loins. You do want more than her hand, indeed. That pair of lips are a little too tantalizing for you to not be on your cock—so plump, so pouty.

“F–Fuck, Gahyun, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. Time is running low, and you have to make her stop before you blow a load all over the bathroom floor and get short-circuited for the rest of the night.

Gahyun lets out another wicked giggle. “Say please, then.” She’s not going to stop so easily, not before you profusely beg her to.

“Nghhn~ p–please, Gahyun,” you plead, voice already shaking in the intense sensation.

“Again, and I’ll lift my hand off,” she teases, jerking you off even faster. Your mind is all hazy from the sheer pleasure you’re getting from her hand. Your blinking becomes rapid. Your vision becomes blurry.

“Nghh~ please, G–Gahyun.”

Gahyun suddenly removes her hand from your cock, leaving it twitching in the air. You sigh, as the tension slowly drops back to normal. You’re happy not to cum before you get to take on her mouth.

“Close one,” she says, letting go of you from her warm embrace. You feel like you can fully breathe for the first time in years. She was suffocating, but you won’t deny the pleasure she gave you, of course.

Gahyun slowly walks back to your front, putting the highlight of her next act for you to see—her lips, those dick-sucking lips. You and the guys have talked about this behind her back (well, behind everyone’s back) about how good her lips would feel on your cocks, head bobbing up and down in a hypnotic motion, bringing intense pleasure to whoever gets their dick sucked. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Gahyun kneels, not without seductively swaying her wide hips as she goes down. Your cock twitches at the sight violently, so ready to be taken into her mouth.

“Say please, just like when I jerked you off,” she commands. She seems to know when to raise her voice and when to not.

“Please, Gahyun,” you utter, your voice all dry from the moaning and the internally burning desire.

The first contact is nothing short of divine. Gahyun starts slow. She starts by taking in just the mushroom tip into her mouth. She feels so warm, so tight, so right. Gahyun gives the underside of your cock a playful lick, making your body jolt in response.

She then begins her show, pushing herself further on your cock. It’s a lewd sight, really—the direct eye contact, the sound she’s making (it’s kind of a low, satisfied hum), the way she fondles your balls with her fingers. Pleasure just shoots through your body like a bullet. Without any restraints, you could just cum into her mouth right here and now. She pushes further and further, making you groan in pure bliss, until she starts to gag.

“Y–You don’t have to take it all, G–Gahyun.”

She says nothing, instead diving deeper onto your cock, all while using her tongue to play with the underside of your length. No woman has ever given you a blowjob as good as this—the deliberate movement, the will to gag, the pouty lips. Gahyun really has it all.

She keeps the eye contact intact, a reminder of her control. The gagging sounds she’s making don’t hinder her dominance by a little bit. She lets you know who’s in control here. It’s her and only her.

She finally pushes herself up to the hilt of your cock. She gags. She chokes. She sputters. Globs of spit leaks out of her mouth. Your head falls backwards from the pleasure. Her eyes are barely opening from the sheer size of your cock. You love this. You love the sounds she’s making. You love how she dominates the shit out of you. You love that she’s willing to suck you off like this (even if she’s the one in full control).

She stays there, gagging, choking, sputtering on your cock. She’s taking in the pungent scent of you, judging by the way she takes a deep breath through her nose. Her lips look so good on your cock like this. The base of your length becomes saturated by her red lipstick and spit. Streaks of black mascara run down her cheeks. You’re revelling in it. You’re revelling in the sight.

“G–God, G–Gahyun,” you utter.

With that, she slowly pulls back from your cock, leaving a trail of her rosy lipstick on it. Her eyes are fluttering violently with the thickness and length of you. She can barely breathe, and you’re loving it.

Instinctively, your right hand goes to the back of her head, tugging her hair to pull her out of the predicament called your cock. She gets to breathe again, and she quickly dislodges herself off you.

“Ah, y–you taste good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath. The marks from the earlier act are evident.

You say nothing, letting Gahyun catch her breath again, waiting for the time she can take in your cock once more. She breathes in, she breathes out, and finally, she’s ready again.

“I’m not holding back this time, alright?” she says, determination sparks inside her eyes.

“S–Sure.”

She grabs onto your cock with her right hand, pulling you close, before she takes your cock into her mouth. This time, it’s more violent, more fervent. She catches her rhythm and doesn’t look back. She starts to bob her head back and forth on your cock, and doesn’t that make you whimper like a bitch?

“Nghhh~ s–so good,” you mewl.

Gahyun only replies with a giggle on your cock. Her grip is still firm. Her free hand fondles your balls gently, trying to coax cum out of you.

She catches her rhythm, moving her head in a hypnotic motion. She really wants you to cum under her influence like this. You hear her gag. You hear her choke. You hear her sputter.

The tension in your loins starts to rise again. You’re on the verge of cumming with the help of the earlier handjob, and she doesn’t seem to stop at all. That’s it. You’re unloading your cum inside of Lee Gahyun’s mouth, making her taste your white essence.

“G–Gonna cum,” you utter.

Gahyun responds by going as rapidly as she can on your throbbing cock. The sensation is electric. It shoots through you like a bullet. The knot tightens, and you can do nothing to stop it.

With the final stroke, you unload your pent-up lust into Lee Gahyun’s throat, making her taste your essence. Your body jerks forward in pure pleasure. You let out a low, guttural groan at your precipice, unable to make sense of the situation. She lets out a satisfied hum as she feels your white, hot cum hit the back of her throat. You’re probably salty, like the other women have said.

You slowly come down from your peak, finally catching your rhythm again. Your cock’s spurts turn into soft drizzles off the slit. Gahyun pulls off of your cock with a loud pop. What an obscene sight. Her face is a fucking mess—mascara, lipstick, it’s all wrong. You’re still too dazed to say a thing, though.

“You taste good,” she says, opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out lewdly to show the emptiness of her wet cavern. She drank it all.

“I–I wanna do this again,” you involuntarily utter from the depths of your heart. “I want you to suck my cock again.”

Maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of your words. Maybe it’s the wake of your climax. She bursts out a laugh, a genuine one. You watch her laugh awkwardly.

“Ask me–ha–properly,” she says. “Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Suck–”

“Suck my cock again?”

She lets out a chuckle, before answering, “Definitely, maybe.”

—

[chaotic-birds]

hi!! i saw you wanted to write fluff and i love your work! i was wondering if you could write a jasonxfem!reader on their wedding day, like getting ready and just being sweet and dopey.

(i tried to send this in earlier but it said it didn’t work so if you already got an ask like this is was from me 🙏🏼)

im so sorry about how late this is but tysm for sending something in! and ty for loving my work 🥺

TW reader has she/her pronouns, one rated r joke (tho its tame aha) | WC 1.5k | G fluff

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

masterlist

Jason is usually not one for superstitions, so you were surprised at how adamant he was about not seeing each other until the altar. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from designating Dick as his messenger.

“Dude, seriously? This is your seventh note to her,” Dick scoffs at the folded paper in his hand.

Jason looks at his brother through the mirror while fixing his tie for the tenth time.

“And there’ll be an eighth, so stop bitching and go give it to her.”

Dick grumbles, mumbling curses as he huffs out of the room.

“You know, you could just wait and tell her whatever it is in person,” Tim comments.

“And you could just mind your business,” Jason replies.

Jason notices Tim pursing his lips; he’s no doubt repressing his snarky comeback due to it being Jason’s big day.

The sound of the door opening makes Jason snap his head in that direction. Is Dick already back with your note?

Stephanie walks in, a big smile on her face.

“I thought wedding days were supposed to be filled with happiness. What’s up, grouch?” Stephanie questions.

Jason releases a big sigh and turns to face her.

With a pout, he answers, “My tie keeps looking weird.”

She laughs. “You really are nervous, huh?”

Stephanie comes to stand in front of him, undoing his tie.

“Can you blame me? Things don’t exactly go well for us, and I need this day to go well.”

“Is that why there’s a gun in your jacket?” Damian pipes in.

Jason shrugs. He’d feel naked without it.

Stephanie flattens the tie against his chest then taps him to confirm she’s done. Jason turns to the mirror again, overanalyzing the article of clothing. It still doesn’t feel right, but he guesses it never will.

“Thanks,” Jason mutters.

Dick walks back into the room, holding up a small piece of paper.

Jason eagerly meets him halfway and snatches the item from his hand.

You’re unbelievable, Jay. Ditching is not an option! I’ll see you soon xoxo (:

Jason grins at your scribbling. He can tell you’re in a rush and wonders if you’re as nervous as him.

There’s less than an hour to go, and he can’t tell if time is moving too fast or too slow. He just knows he’s ready to say I do.

There was a time when Jason believed a day like this would just be a fantasy. He never thought he’d wear a ring on his left hand. Never thought he’d find a home in a person.

But he’s so glad he did.

Jason stares at you with a smile so large it makes his cheeks hurt. However, he feels it can’t be helped. He’s buzzing with overwhelming joy.

Though, despite that, there’s the ever-present dark cloud above his head, threatening to shower him with self-deprecating thoughts. Thoughts that he wishes he could overcome, but somehow they keep sprouting. The most consistent out of them all is that he’s not deserving of—

“Jay?”

He turns his face and his gaze finds yours. They’re analyzing his features.

“What’s going on up there?” you whisper, sitting at their table at the front of the room. Everyone around them is eating.

It’s then he realizes his smile has faded, leaving behind a dejected expression.

You raise a hand to rub at one of his temples, not wanting to mess up his hair.

“Sorry,” he sighs. His eyes close briefly. When he opens them, you’re still staring at him.

“I love you,” he blurts. “I love you so much.”

You grin widely, hand dropping to grab his.

“I know.” You steal a kiss and squeeze his hand.

Jason opens his mouth to ask if you love him but stops. Out of all the places, all the events, this one should be a clear beacon of how much you love him.

As if reading his thoughts, you lean in and hug him.

It takes everything in him not to pull you into his lap and cuddle you like a stuffed animal.

“You’re the best man I know,” you say close to his ear. “You’re caring, thoughtful, funny, a little bit of a smartass,” you pause to chuckle, “and deserving.”

You pull away but keep a hand on his shoulder blade.

“And not only do I love you, but so does everyone in this room,” you continue. “I couldn’t have married a better man. You’re mine, Jason Todd. You know that?”

Jason hates crying. He hates it even more when it happens in public. But for fucks sake, he can’t stop the two tears that glide down his cheeks.

You kiss one and wipe the other.

“There’s darkness in us all, but focus on the light. Focus on us.”

Jason nods. His heart is beating rapidly from your sweet words.

“I was only supposed to cry at the altar,” he mutters, trying to bring some humor—some light—back into the atmosphere.

You smile. He can tell you’re recalling his tears as he watched you descend the aisle.

“Guess it means you’re a bigger crybaby than me,” you tease. Sure, you’ve shed a tear or fifteen, but not as much as Jason.

“We’ll see about that,” he huffs but there’s a smile on his lips. “The night’s not over.”

“No, it is not, little bro,” a voice joins the conversation as a hand slaps down on Jason’s other shoulder roughly.

Dick grins down at Jason. There’s something in it that’s wicked.

Dick turns, retrieves the microphone from the DJ booth, then walks back. The music lowers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to start the fun,” Dick announces into the mic.

The room quiets as people’s attention shifts.

“I’d like to congratulate the lovely couple and share a few words,” he pauses to glance at Jason. “And you bet your zombie ass, I’ll be telling embarrassing stories too.”

Jason narrows his eyes at Dick, but one simple kiss from you on his cheek has him wilting in his chair.

He’s so done for.

Jason is perfectly content watching you on the dance floor from afar. But oh, that won’t do.

From being tossed from Stephanie to Dick, to Duke, to even Damian, he’s had his fair share of time away from his chair. A chair that his feet desperately miss.

“Woah, hey there, handsome,” you smile when you catch him. He sends Cass a glare as he stumbles after she made him spin.

“How are you still standing?” he groans, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist.

You shrug. “I’m surprised you’ve been dancing for so long.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles.

He watches you peep over his shoulder and giggle–no doubt seeing his family laugh.

Jason loves your giggles.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I liked watching you shake your little hips,” you joke and wiggle him as if to reenact his moves.

Jason groans louder and grips your waist tighter.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he almost whines.

You pull him closer, whispering, “I rather be under you.”

Jason stops breathing for a moment. A bunch of thoughts fill his head, none of which are appropriate for a public setting.

You pull away, sending him a wink before scurrying off to who knows where. Jason watches you go. He wants to go after you, but truthfully, it’s better if he doesn’t. Or else, he might just find a secluded spot and turn his thoughts into reality.

Jason lets out a deep sigh and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Already can’t keep up?”

Jason turns to see Bruce at his side, eyeing you as you stop at your friends’ table. You throw your head back, laughing loudly as if no one can ruin your mood. You catch Bruce’s stare and smile sweetly—as if you didn’t just whisper something vulgar to Jason a second ago.

Bruce laughs softly, then directs his focus on Jason. He gives him a pat on the back like he’s done so many times before.

“I’m happy for you,” he says. “You’ve done well for yourself, son.”

Bruce gives Jason a genuine, big smile. It’s not one he sees much from him.

Jason nods. He may still have unresolved issues with the man, but there’s no mistaking the care and pride in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Jason says. He would say more, but he’s never been much of a talker… well, a sappy talker.

Bruce understands and gives him one more pat before he walks back to his table.

Jason takes one long sweep across the room. He takes in the pretty decorations and the smiling faces. He sees people who have been by his side through rough times and, now, one of his happiest.

His eyes land on you last.

You’re so beautiful that his heart churns.

Jason can feel the dark cloud forming above his head. He can hear the faint sound of thunder.

He shakes his head.

No.

Not today.

He won’t stand in the storm. He won’t be showered in doubt. If he were to be showered, he wanted it to be with your love.

Ignoring the thunder and drizzle, he moves away from the storm and makes a beeline for you.

Here, with his hand around your waist, there is sunshine and chirping birds. Here, there is happiness.

Here, there is love.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

Dividers by @strangergraphics (ty!)

[notjustjavierpena]

Candy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A shameless addition to the DILF!Joel universe. This is PWP, enjoy!

Summary: Another sexcapade in Joel’s bed. Lazy day filled with sex.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), PIV sex, unprotected sex, riding, face-sitting, fingering, pussy-eating, dirty talk, Joel smacks your ass, reader is a little insecure about her body

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48297466

Candy

Sometimes you and Joel sneak off to your house, telling everyone that you’re going grocery shopping or something just as mundane, just to get it on like teenagers in your still new bed. Sometimes, when Sarah is at a friend’s house, you have Joel’s house to yourself. This time is the latter, and you feel grateful for the lack of a time frame for your sexcapades. 

It gives Joel time to really warm you up, take his time, go slow, then fast and then slow again. It’s times for living off of bottled water, ice cream from the tub and having multiple orgasms, placing the tub between your thighs to enjoy the cool it radiates as it soothes your spent cunt. 

You’re sitting in Joel’s bed like this now; legs spread out in front of you, tub of strawberry ice cream between your thighs and Joel cross-legged in front of you, one hand on each of your shins, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs into your calves. You’ve been screwing for hours by now. 

You feed him a spoonful, practically glowing with all the dopamine flowing through you from your brain to your body. Your heart rate is slightly elevated too but it could be just from looking at him; broad shoulders, naked chest and black boxers. His hair is a mess from how many times you’ve carded your fingers through it, but you swear that you like it much better this way. 

“You okay?” He asks after swallowing, reaching for the bottle of water on his night stand. He takes a large sip, offers it to you but you shake your head.

“Fine, just horny and tired… sore,” you say the last word with a smirk whilst digging out the last few bites from the ice cream tub, scraping thoroughly along the sides. You set the empty container aside, “I’ll get a tummy if we keep spending time like this between fucking though.”

“I’d like you even more with a cute little belly,” Joel rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating comment, yanks a little at your legs to signal what he wants; you scoot forward on your bottom to sit closer to him and drape your legs over his hips. He reaches up to cradle your face, pulls you in for a kiss that’s cold from the strawberry ice cream. 

“Yeah? You would like that?” You smile against his mouth, and he places his palms on the globes of your ass and drags you flush against him until you’re chest to chest. 

“I’d fucking love it,” he rasps before he devours your mouth once more. He tastes deliciously sweet of strawberries and cream, making you lick into his mouth with a newfound passion for making out. You suck at his tongue to make him growl for more, spurring him on to hoist you up into his lap until he can slide underneath your body so you’re straddling him.

“Up. Guess ice cream wasn’t enough,” he says with a pat to your lower back, hinting with his eyes whilst pushing you forward. You know what that means, swallowing thickly before crawling forwards, past his chest until you’re hovering your naked pussy above his face. 

You find yourself trembling and use the headboard to steady yourself, feeling Joel’s breath against your cunt and the way it hitches when you look down to find his eyes. You have wanted to ride his face all day, wondering when you’d be desperate enough for it to ask but this is perfect. He is perfect.

“Sit, and don’t take those eyes off me. Want to see you come,” he commands and when you don’t instantly follow orders, he curls two strong hands around your thighs and yanks you down onto his mouth. You take a proper seat, his tongue along your slit and his nose against your clit. It earns him a long, shaky and dragged-out moan. 

Whilst looking down at him, you start to feel the first movements of his slick tongue. It slides between your folds, picks up your arousal on its way before wiggling slightly. Joel tenses it up until he can slip the tip of the muscle inside of you, fucking your cunt open in the most obscene way. You’re dripping onto his mouth and chin, wetting his scruff. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moan softly, staring down into his darkened eyes and starting to grind down on the arch of his nose. Occasionally, the tip of his nose catches on your clit and nearly has you flying forwards, “Fuck, fuck, hah, fuck Joel.”

He bobs his head too to grind his face into you, determined to not let you do all the work despite how much you know he loves when you use him. His tongue slips from you, and you can feel spit and slick drip from you and add to the shine that’s already on his face.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he mutters underneath you and makes your pussy clench in interest of more, “Fuckin’ love when she gushes on my face.”

Joel’s hands push you around after that, steers you with little care, seeming merciless in his state of hunger, until he can lap directly on your clit before closing his lips around it. Oh God, you think, he is determined today.

Your hands grip harder at the headboard, turning your knuckles white when he sucks hard enough to cause just a little pain amongst all the pleasure. It makes your eyes flutter closed, thighs shake and mouth hanging open in a silent moan. 

With a crack, one of his hands comes down onto the fleshiest part of your ass in a stinging smack. Your eyes fly open in surprise and you moan pathetically as you feel your pussy clamping down on nothing. 

“I told you to look at me,” he says, releasing you with a pop and relenting for a moment to speak, “Keep those eyes on me while I eat your pretty pussy.” 

“Yes— s-sorry, Joel, please,” you release the headboard carefully, but only to slide your fingers through his hair instead, ready to yank, “It won’t happen again, baby. Please. Make me come on your face.”

Joel lets out a pleased sigh as you scratch your nails through his hair. 

“Is this okay, baby?” You ask sweetly, referring to your fingers in his hair, but also starting to move on his mouth again. 

Joel spanks you again without warning. It stings more this time, but he is back to eating you out before you have time to react, and, additionally, whatever smart thing you want to say disappears from your mind as you lose the connection between your brain and your mouth. It’s all gibberish. 

You feel the hand on your ass slide down between your thighs which are shaking at this point, giving him signs of how close you are. He slips a finger inside your cunt, adding a second one only after a few pumps, working you from the outside and the inside. 

It’s too much when he rubs against your g-spot, curling his fingers as if to coax your orgasm to come. You yank his hair then, coming on his mouth with a sob and forcing yourself to stare down into his eyes despite wanting to squeeze your own shut. It feels so good. You clamp down on his fingers and Joel holds them still against your g-spot, sucking your relentlessly throbbing clit through your high. 

With ragged breath, you push yourself off of him and he lets you. You scoot back to sit in his lap, wet and spent cunt soaking through the fabric of his boxers when you settle there. It takes you a moment to find his gaze again, too busy with feeling his generous, but unfortunately clothed, length against you. Soon, you remind yourself.

Though when you see his whole face again, you gasp audibly; Joel’s eyes are hazy, satisfied and black with desire. His chin, nose and mouth are covered with your slick to the point where he is pornographic to look at, but the best thing is the boyish grin that he sports. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you scold playfully, placing your palms on his chest and scratching a little. 

“You taste like fucking candy,” he licks his lips for show, then sucks the fingers that he has had inside of you clean one by one. It makes you impatiently squirm in his lap. 

“Better than strawberry ice cream?” You ask, scooting down even further to tuck at the hem of his boxers and reveal his cock, now an angry red color from being neglected too long. You are too lazy to take his underwear all the way off, settling the hem below his balls.

“Better than strawberry ice cream,” he repeats to confirm, looking down at where your hands are now stroking him lazily, “You already ready for more? Greedy of you.”

“Greedy for you, you mean, Mr. Miller,” you correct him and get onto your knees, moving until you feel the head of his cock, slick with precome, nudge at your slit. 

The boyish grin fades with that comment, followed by a soft sigh and then Joel’s jaw goes slack as you start sinking down. He places his hands on your hips once more, thumbs pressing down into your hip bones to angle your pelvis.

“Fuck, right there…” You groan, leaning your head back a little as the tip of his dick pokes against your g-spot. You bottom out and it’s amazing to feel your sensitive walls stretched out around his cock, sucking him in the rest of the way with how wet he has made you. When you’ve gotten used to him, you lift yourself up to sink back down again, but just once, wanting him to lose control with you, smack your ass again, “Want me to come on your cock too? Mouth not enough?”

“You better, sweetheart, m-mouth ain’t never enough— oh fuck, I want you to milk my come into your tight cunt,” his eyes glaze over as you start up the first rolls of your hips, drawing a relieved moan from the man’s throat. He has been so good at waiting for you, so you start up a rhythm that is anything but teasing to reward his patience. 

When you have him panting underneath you, you decide to take it even further and put on a show for him. You bounce in his lap, your hands going up your body to squeeze your own tits. You press them together as you ride him in earnest, then release them with a moan and catch him hungrily watching as they bounce back into place. 

“Fuck, baby,” you keen when his hips snap up into yours for the first time. He grips your fleshy thighs heatedly, smacks them, forces you down on his dick every time you lift yourself off. You reward him with a chant of his name, breathless and bordering on religious worship, “God, you fuck me so well. Joel. Make me come.” 

He suddenly sits up and keeps you moving in unison, cups your jaw and pulls your mouth towards his own with desperation in the noises he makes for you. It’s generous to call it a kiss as it is rather a filthy clash of teeth and tongues. You try to say his name again, but he eats it from your hungry mouth, right off your tongue, before you manage to get it out. 

When he pulls away to suck in a much-needed breath, you lean back in his lap and reach behind yourself to rest a hand on his thigh. It makes you able to speed up, grind against his pelvis and gain stimulation to your clit that sends sparks throughout your lower body. 

“Come for me,” he says lowly, one arm wrapping around your waist to support you and the other groping your ass obscenely. He smacks it again, and your orgasm ripples through your body in the next moment and has you keening loudly, “Thaaaat’s it… Attagirl, there you are.” 

You clench rhythmically around Joel’s dick and there are a few more snaps of his hips before he pushes up into you and pulls you down onto him simultaneously. He lets out a groan from the back of his throat, spilling inside of you and causing you to gasp pathetically at the feel of warmth spreading inside your pussy.

“You’ve got me spellbound, baby,” he rests his head against your shoulder when he dares speak again.

“Yeah? Changed your life with this pussy?” You tease, voice exhausted. You can feel him smile against your skin. 

“Possibly,” he moves slowly and then pulls out of you with a grunt. He lies down again, pulling you down with him by your upper arm until you are lying with your face in the crook of his neck, giggling softly.

“We should order pizza for dinner,” you think out loud.

“Didn’t you just complain about getting a tummy?” Joel rolls his eyes but reaches to sprawl a hand over your stomach, “Women.” 

“You said you’d love me with a tummy,” you argue with a playful slap to his chest but making up for it by kissing along his jaw, “That may be a good enough reason for me.”

“Pizza then.”

“I’ll just buy bigger jeans.”

.

.

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[kabsey]

Hey, I really love your thoughts and writing... how about "Boys Night" from the Wholesome Prompts? 🙂 Anything come to mind?

Thank you so much! <3 I had so many different thoughts for this prompt, but this is the one that stuck. Not quite a boys' night per se, but it is a boys' chat and it is at night 😊

-------

When the knock came, Viago glared at the door over the top of his reading glasses. The runner wasn't due for another hour, and he could not imagine who else Marta would allow to approach his study when she knew exactly how tall the stack of his correspondence had grown (she was the one who brought him the post, after all). Rook or Teia wouldn't have even bothered to knock.

Which left Viago no choice but to pause in his writing with a stifled sigh and a curt "Yes?"

The door opened, and the figure who entered explained all: the First Talon went where he liked. If it had been Caterina, Viago would have set his letter aside and risen to greet her.

Instead Viago resumed writing, though he paid Lucanis the courtesy of asking, "Is this urgent business, or can it wait a moment?"

"It can wait."

Lucanis crossed to the bookshelf, his near-silent footsteps drowned out by the scratching of Viago's quill. From the corner of his eye, Viago watched him peruse the shelves with his hands clasped behind his back. Two fingers on his right hand twitched in an uneven rhythm, a fidgety agitation that no lesser Crow would dare display in front of a Talon. From Lucanis Dellamorte, whose knuckles were striped with crisscrossed scars from Caterina's cane, it either spoke to his comfort with Viago or a mind very ill at ease. Possibly both.

Viago ended the letter with the correct signature (he had a variation for each of his regular correspondents, making a fake easier to spot) and set the page atop the outgoing post to let the ink dry. He wiped the nib of his quill, capped his bottle of ink, and placed both items in his desk drawer with his glasses. The soft sound of the drawer closing drew Lucanis's attention, and Viago gestured for him to take the seat across from his desk.

When he was seated, he opened his mouth to speak, but Viago cut him off with a raised hand.

"I can guess why you're here," he said, folding his hands back over his desk. "You want to make Rook a Dellamorte."

Lucanis raised an eyebrow, but a corner of his lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile. "I suppose my intentions have been fairly obvious."

Viago huffed a laugh. "Yours and half of Antiva's."

Lucanis's smile vanished. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I have received inquiries from the head of every House and even some of the merchant guilds besides." As if Rook would stoop to playing bodyguard to some bloated princeling.

For a brief moment, Lucanis's eyes flashed violet. Viago tensed and curled his fingers around the knife strapped to the underside of his chair arm, but Lucanis shook his head and turned to the thin air to his right, one hand lifted in a placating gesture. "Calm down."

"Apologies," he said as he looked back to Viago, and Viago relaxed his hand. "We're just surprised to hear it. Does Rook know? She's never mentioned it."

Viago frowned. "Of course she does. Do you think I would simply ship her off somewhere with no consideration for her opinion?"

"No, of course not," Lucanis assured him. His gaze dropped to Viago's desk as he fell silent. Viago wondered what the demon had to say about the matter. He probably didn't want to know.

"As far as I'm aware," he said, and Lucanis's eyes immediately returned to his, "Rook has no intention of accepting any of these other offers."

Some of the tension left Lucanis's frame, and Viago felt almost reluctant to continue, though he knew frankness was the better road.

"But you should know, I don't believe she intends to accept yours either."

Lucanis stiffened, tense again to the point of shock. "You... What makes you say that?"

"She's expressed to me that she's happy in my House." Viago was not one for providing comfort, but he knew his words were a blow to Lucanis, so he attempted to choose less direct phrasing than he might have. "She's endured a great deal in the past year. You both have. For the moment, she seems to crave the stability of the familiar rather than jumping into something new."

Lucanis's eyes fluttered briefly shut, in an attempt to control either the demon's reaction or his own. But when he opened them, he nodded.

"I'm glad you told me," he said. "It's something I hadn't considered. Perhaps I should have." A hint of a sad smile crossed his face. "You have to be the one to break it to Teia though. She was so sure Rook would say yes."

Viago raised an eyebrow. "You spoke to Teia about this?" Before Lucanis could answer, he shook his head. "Don't listen to her on the subject of Rook. She's always wanted her for herself."

Lucanis stared back at him, lips parted. "She has?"

"Does that surprise you?" Viago asked. Perhaps Lucanis had not paid much attention previously to the movement of Crows between Houses. Teia was notorious for attempting to charm away promising talent.

"A bit," Lucanis admitted. "You don't seem troubled by the idea."

Viago waved a hand. "We have an arrangement."

Lucanis looked even more nonplussed. "You do?"

"Of course." Viago stroked his beard as he considered the future. "We should probably include you as well moving forward."

An odd red flush crept across Lucanis's face. "Include me? In your... arrangement with Teia?"

Viago frowned. "You don't wish to be involved? Your grandmother always—"

One of Lucanis's hands shot up to stop Viago's words, while the other pinched the bridge of his nose. "Viago, I am starting to think—and really, sincerely hope—that we are talking about two different things."

Viago's frown deepened. "We're discussing Rook joining your House."

Lucanis's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and when he looked up, he was smiling. "We're discussing Rook joining my household. I'm going to ask her to marry me, Viago."

"Oh."

That had been such a foregone conclusion that Viago usually forgot it hadn't been formally settled, except for the moments when Teia griped about Lucanis taking too long. They'd already spent whole evenings with her sharing her thoughts on centerpieces and color coordination and other details that Viago couldn't follow, though he attempted to appear interested enough that he would not be kicked out of their bed.

He looked at the rest of the correspondence he had meant to address in annoyance. The runner would arrive any moment.

"You don't need her Talon's permission for that," he groused.

Lucanis only laughed again. "Of course not. But I would like to know that we would have the blessing of her family."

"Rook isn't—"

The automatic denial died on his lips at Lucanis's knowing look. He much preferred when the First Talon bestowed that smug expression on his rivals. Viago closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Fine. Yes. You have it. Go find her and let me work in peace."

Ever a wise man, Lucanis said nothing more but simply rose and left Viago alone in his study. For all that Teia enjoyed the idea, he had a very difficult time reconciling Rook with a word such as "wife." When he tried, all his mind would conjure was the memory of an underfed girl with a messy braid and bare feet. But not that long ago, he would never have been able to associate the word "hero" with Rook either.

Since he'd managed the one, he was fairly certain that with time, he would manage the other.

[love-in-my-twenties]

Habits that changed my life for the better

I stopped joking about myself. It was mostly about suicide jokes (it was a decision that I made after the worst moment of my journey with depression, if I can call it that), but, really, it's about all self-deprecating stuff. It may be just jokes, but it stays in your brain.

Positive attitude. It's similar to manifestation, in a way, but in a... down to earth way, I guess. Thinking positively about stuff changes everything for me. Almost everything is simpler.

I deleted Twitter. It may be a different social media for everyone, of course - now probably TikTok for most - but, well, Twitter was where I spent long hours everyday. I started taking breaks from it about a year and a half ago and deleted it in August. It was hard - I loved the community there and I miss the daily updates from my fav fandoms, but it's for the best. I still can't explain how Twitter affected me but I do feel better since I stopped spending so much time there.

Taking vitamins. I didn't think it would really make a difference but it definitely did. The biggest surprise for me was vitamin C - my immune system has improved super quickly when I started supplementing it. I didn't even realise how bad it was before. Other than that, I take B complex, A+E (hair, skin), and iron (i tend to have a deficiency of it). (& D when it's winter).

Having a consistent skin care routine. It's calming and both doing the routine and seeing the effects make me feel better. (I do realise that many people have more demanding skin than me and searching for the right products can be frustrating and expensive. I'm just talking about my experience).

Other things that I think are worth mentioning:

Therapy - just a short explanation that I've been on therapy (with breaks) for about 6 years now. I've had social anxiety for most of my life, now still struggle with depression (and amnesia, actually) a bit, but what I wanted to mention here is that I learned a lot from it. It's obvious, but I just think it's important to pinpoint that I did not just learn how to think more positively and love myself by myself.

Exercising! - I still struggle to make it a habit, but when I actually do exercise regularly (I do pilates), I really feel better. It's worth it.

Hydration - same with drinking water. I really don't think I have to explain it in any way lol.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Evenfall

Imagine you wake up in Twilight as a random side character. (Part 5)

Nullification!reader Human reader! Fem reader! SideCharacter Bella! Isekai au! Edward Cullen X reader. Eventually Jacob Black x reader. (2 endings.) (All characters will be written less creepy and one dimensional than the ones in the books.)

Previous - Next

Edwards eyes were glinting again with the emotion that Y/N still could not place.

'What?' Y/N asked, rolling onto her stomach, head resting on her arms.

'Nothing. It's just nice to finally feel the sun again.' Edward smiled, closing his eyes and laying on his back, breathing deeply.

Was there something on her lips? Why was he touching them? Y/N lifted her hand to brush over her lips.

‘Was there something on my face?’ Y/N asked, sitting up. ‘If you say there's a bug I will scream.’

‘No, just some grass, it's gone now.’ Edward lied smoothly. He looked a mixture of frustrated and amused. Where else would he find such an oblivious girl who was adamant on not seeing how much he liked her? It was as if she couldn’t see herself at all.

He stood up, offering a hand. Y/N let herself be pulled up, grasping his marble hands. He looked rueful, dropping her hand as soon as Y/N stood up.

‘How can you not be afraid?’ He let out a growl, dashing past Y/N before her eyes could focus on his form. He was now standing ten metres away, eyes boring into her from just beyond the thicket.

Was Edward having his emo moment? 

‘You can't run from us.’ He said, suddenly In front of her again, impossibly fast.

‘You can't scream or-’

‘Look, you’re not a spider, or a roach.' She rolled her eyes, interrupting.

'The only thing scary about you is the fact that you mood swing so hard.’ Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms, her tone final.

‘I get that you think you're the world's best predator, but so are humans.’ Y/N pointed at him, as if scolding. ‘You may be dangerous, but so is every human being, plant or animal. You may be a vampire Edward but you nor your family scare me.’ She jabbed at him with her finger.

‘Hell, not even ghosts scare me.’ She threw up her hands in frustration. ‘If you wanted me dead, I would have been the day that van skidded.’  

‘But I-’

‘Edward, you’re a good person and I’m betting you’re also a good friend.’ She shook her head emphatically. 

‘I am not scared of you more than I am scared of every other man nor do I think you’re an angel. You may be a vampire but that is you physically. Everything else about you is still human.’ Y/N rubbed her hands on temples, looking down and continuing.

‘Your emotions, your moral compass and your brain is still human Edward.’ She ended, hands on her hips looking as imposing as she could.

‘I don't think I've been scolded by anyone since….’ He trailed off. ‘I don't even think Carlisle has scolded me.’ He let out a small laugh, disbelief evident in his eyes. In the books, Y/N was pretty sure Carslie let Edward runoff during the mid 19th century so she wasn’t surprised.

‘You really are something.’ He murmured, placing a hand on her arm, willing her to drop her stance. ‘I’ll try not to be so self deprecating.’ 

Y/N looked at him and sighed. ‘Old habits die hard right?’ She relaxed her arms and shrugged, allowing him to coax her from her temper.

‘Eighty year old habits.’ Edward grinned, looking slightly self-conscious. It seemed as if time did little to expand a vampire's emotional maturity.

It made sense seeing as the immortal children were also stuck at a child’s mentality.

‘Yeah I don’t think you've aged mentally since, to be honest.’ She smirked, then added, ‘No offence.’

‘None taken. Although I would like to add that I do have two graduate degrees in Medicine.’ He crossed his arms, his face reminded her of a puppy, waiting for a treat. It was so unfair how Edward’s face was able to dazzle her so easily. Who in the world was Stephanie Meyer thinking of when she wrote this damn book?

‘Huh, you can study all day for twenty four hours. I guess it makes sense. One could say you had a slight advantage…’ Y/N cheeked, to which Edward playfully hummed. He jokingly took a step forward, his hands poised.

‘Why you cheeky little..’ He sneaked forward as Y/N stepped backwards with an impish smile.

‘Shouldn’t I get a headstart?’ 

‘I would, but if I'm being honest. I'm afraid you'll get lost or trip over something…’ With that he blurred to Y/N’s side, gently snatching her up by the waist and spinning her around.

‘So I think I'm going to just keep you right here with me.’ He flashed a grin, his teeth sparkling in the sunlight. 

‘Honestly if you glittered the same way in the moonlight, I could use you as a torch.’ Y/N blinked, she poked his forehead with a finger, awkwardly dangling from his gentle hold.

‘Wow, you are exceptional.’ Edward closed his eyes, breathing in deeply with a wistful smile.

Y/n was miffed, ‘Whadd’ya mean?’ She mumbled, as Edward set her down, kneeling on the ground.

‘Get on, we’re going home.’

‘It’s like five o'clock.’ Y/N protested, nudging Edward over with her foot to which he chuckled, playing along.

‘You need dinner. We’re going home so I can drive us.’ 

‘Can’t I have more pasta?’ Y/N mumbled, climbing back onto Edward’s back, hands around his neck, brushing her thumbs over his cool skin. Edward hummed pleasantly as Y/N mushed her warm cheek into his back. 

‘Hmm, I could have that arranged.’ He said, shifting her weight. ‘Close your eyes.’ 

The trip back lasted less than ten seconds. They reached the familiar window, landing on it as Y/N flitted her eyelids open. The sun was beginning to set, casting a breathtaking orange glow across the horizon.

‘They made pasta without us even asking.’ Edward gave a light chuckle, setting Y/N down smoothly. 

‘I love your family. Can I marry them?’ Y/N joked, skipping through the door, next to Edward as he led them to the kitchen.

‘No one but me is single in my family.’ He smirked, looking down at her, ‘You’d be marrying me.’ 

‘Hm, I’d have to think about that.’ Y/N mused, putting her chin between her thumb and index finger. ‘You do have all the qualities that matter in this day and age.’ 

‘What’s that?’

‘Money, good looks and youth.’

‘I’m glad to know you think I’m good looking.’

‘What am I? Blind?’ Y/N laughed, reaching the kitchen, smelling the same delicious scent as this morning.

‘Welcome back!’ Alice called from the table.

The Cullen's were all sitting around the dining table, behind the kitchen island. On the marble white table was a single plate of spaghetti with a set of utensils.

‘Is that for me?’ Y/N smiled gleefully, keenly looking at the plate.

‘Of course,’ Rosalie answered, pulling out a chair. ‘Come sit.’ 

‘So, has Edward told you everything?’ Carlisle smiled, both his elbows on the table, his hands clasped. Y/N picked up her fork and replied,

‘Well, mainly everything but…’ Y/N brought the food to her mouth and chewed. 

‘I told her everything she asked.’ Edward frowned

‘Well, one thing I want to know more about is why he says that he can’t stand to be near or away from me.’ Y/N said, after swallowing her mouthful of food.

‘Well, you’re what we would call, his blood singer.’ Carlisle began explaining. ‘Your blood entices him more than any other, your scent is the most appealing to him in any situation.’

‘So, what I’m like a drug to him?’ Y/N blinked, twirling her pasta with her fork.

‘Yes, you’re like my personal brand of cocaine.’ Edward answered, resting his elbow on the table, head resting on his closed fist.

‘That’s… interesting?’ Y/N looked disgruntled, continuing to eat her food.

The conversation took a lull, the Cullens deciding to discuss their plans for an upcoming hunting trip. Meaning that the sun would be out soon.

As soon as Y/N had finished her plate, she spoke up,

‘Just one last thing… If there are vampires, do werewolves exist? ’ Y/N raised her eyebrows quizzically, standing to put her plate in the sink.

‘I’m afraid that's something you’ll have to ask the people you’re thinking about.’ Carlisle said in a grim tone. His perfect statue face, carved in an ironic, stony expression. It seemed as if he already knew where she was going with that question.

‘Okay, thank you Dr Cullen.’ Y/N nodded, as Edward moved to take her plate to the sink, slipping it from her grip.

‘Carlisle is fine. We aren’t at the hospital. Besides, I think we’re past the point of titles don’t you think?’ He smiled, standing from the table. ‘I assume Edward will be driving you home?’ 

‘Yes sir!’ Y/N nodded, before correcting herself. ‘I mean, Yes Dr- I mean, yes Carlisle.’ She fumbled, wringing her hands nervously.

The Cullen family were getting too friendly. What was Y/N going to do when they met Bella? She was the main character after all. And what was she supposed to do about Jacob? He had to imprint on Bella and Edward’s daughter, that was his story line wasn’t it?

As Y/N spiraled in her head. The rest of the family chuckled, saying their goodbyes as they one by one stepped out of the room.

‘I haven’t said this in almost a century but, a penny for your thoughts?’ Edward smiled gently, leading her by the waist.

‘Just thinking about what will happen to me when you eventually get sick of me.’ Y/N word vomited, looking at Edward in a slight panic.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Edward frowned, eyebrows furrowed, looking mildly disturbed.

‘Well, won't the novelty of you not being able to read my mind wear off at some point?’ Y/N shook her head, picking at skin on her hands. 

‘I’m sorry but even if I can't hear your mind, your facial expressions speak louder than words.’ Edward’s marble hands closed over Y/N’s fidgeting ones.

‘You speak without words sometimes, I like that you're so open.’ He whispered, his golden eyes were glittering, lit up by the lamps inside the corridor.

‘So you’ll still be my friend if I'm not the only one you can't hear?’ Y/N stared at her covered hands. Edward’s skin was freezing but comforting all the same.

‘Also, do you guys need lights? Don't you guys have night vision?’ She looked up abruptly while Edward in turn, stared at her incredulously.

‘Where on earth does your mind go in between thinking I'm going to abandon you and asking me questions I’m not expecting?’ 

‘I think about getting a dog too sometimes.’

‘Hm, I’m not too fond of dogs myself.’ Edward grimaced, looking as if he knew something she didn’t. The family called out their goodbyes from their rooms as Y/N walked by.

‘Why? Puppies are cute and they love you so much! Y’know beside the fact that they kinda stink and you have to clean up their poop.’ Y/N hummed, pulling her shoes on and tying up the laces.

‘Well, we can get one someday if you’d like.’ Edward smiled, offering his hand again to lead her to the car.

‘Huh? What am I? Gonna marry you?’ Y/N teased. ‘Planning our future already? You haven’t even taken me on a date yet!’

‘I just took you to meet my family. What do you think that was?’ Edward gave a humoured laugh guiding Y/N into her seat.

‘Huh?’ Y/N blanched, eyes bug-wide and mouth open in complete confusion.

‘You couldn’t tell?’ He chuckled, gazing at the shell shocked girl with affection. Edward was leaning over Y/N, his arm bracing his form on the open car door.

Y/N shook her head, mouth snapping shut.

‘I can slow down if you’d like.’ Edward grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges warmly.

‘Huh?!’ Y/N was not processing this at all.

‘But I have no intention of stopping unless you explicitly tell me to.’ Edward gently closed the car door and blurred over to the opposite side, opening the door and sliding in perfectly.

Y/N stared at Edward, unable to comprehend the current conversation.

‘You like me?’ She asked for the third time, not believing her ears.

However, to Edwards credit. He took the questions all in stride as a true gentleman.

‘Why me?’ She asked the first new question in five minutes.

‘You’re kind, you’re emotionally mature and you’re not easily shaken. Not only that, you make it so that I don't hate myself.’ Edward shrugged, one hand on the wheel, his head resting on the other hand curled into a fist. He was doing very little to hide the smile on his face.

‘We’ve only known each other since Friday! ’

‘That is true.’ He hummed, shifting his gaze onto her with a tender smile. ‘But I can’t exactly help it. Once one of our kind forms an attachment to someone, it only snowballs from there really.’ His smile turned apologetic.

‘Does it have something to do with having a perfect memory?’ Y/N asked, suddenly interested in this new information.

‘Something like that.’ Edward looked back toward the road. ‘For example, this afternoon, i will remember for the rest of my life. From the way your voice blended perfectly with the forest birds. To the way your eyes were illuminated by the setting sun.’  

Edward gave a content sigh before turning the car to park in front of Charlie’s driveway.

‘Even if I wanted to forget, I don’t think I could forget that.’ He closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a second before opening his eyes again.

‘How are you single?’ Y/N gave him a dubious look to which he snorted.

‘I’m actively trying to change that status with you right now.’ He opened the drivers-sided car door and whisked over to Y/N in a flash.

‘Edward…’ Y/N sighed, as the boy opened her door and held out his hand.

‘I didn’t tell you to pressure you Y/N.’ Edward hummed, leading her toward the front door.

‘I did it so you know I’m not going to randomly abandon you as you so fear. I hate that you think I'm so fickle. That is something I'll have to work on.' He gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead, giving her ample time to pull away. Time that Y/N did not take. Edward’s lips were cold and smooth on her skin, like nothing she had ever felt before.

Before she could speak, the front door was flung open by a disgruntled Charlie.

‘Seven Thirty on the dot huh.’ Charlie's eyebrow lifted into a perfect arch.

‘Yes Chief Swan.’ Edward gave him a polite smile, squeezing Y/N’s hand gently before relinquishing her. ‘I’ll see you soon Y/N’ He gave her an implicit look, glancing at her room for a second.

Luckily for him, it was a gaze that Charlie had missed. Instead, he was checking Y/N for any signs of possible harm before ushering her back inside, almost not letting her wave goodbye to Edward.

‘How was it? Did the boy treat you well?’ Charlie spitfired questions as Y/N shrugged off her jacket.

‘He was a gentleman! His family was very gracious and we had pasta for dinner.’ Y/N laughed, amused by the fatherly instincts that were currently on display.

‘Enough about me, is Bella here?’ Y/N peered into the kitchen, spotting an empty table and chair.

‘She went upstairs, said she wanted to unpack after dinner. I could knock on her door?’ Charlie looked unsure of what to do. He wanted both the girls to get along but he wasn't sure how.

‘It’s okay, I’m sure she’ll say hello in the morning!’ Y/N gave Charlie a reassuring pat on the back before moving to go upstairs. 

‘I’ll see you in the morning?’ She smiled.

‘Yeah sounds like a plan, Goodnight kiddo.’

‘G’night Uncle Charlie.’ Y/N called out, trekking her way up the stairs.

Y/N glanced at the door on the far end of the hallway before shaking her head and opening her own door.

‘What is that smell?’ a voice whispered, starling Y/N.

‘What the-’

‘I did say see you soon.’ The musical voice replied cheekily.

‘Seriously though, your house smells like rotten fruit and white chocolate. I hate white chocolate.’ Edward growled, grabbing a pillow and nuzzling his face into it. Y/N took note of how he relaxed when he seemingly inhaled into the pillow.

‘Are you sniffing my pillow…’

‘I CAN’T HELP IT! YOUR HOUSE SMELLS TERRIBLE!’ He whisper-yelled in a whiny voice.

‘I think you might be smelling Charlie's daughter, Bella Swan…’

‘Seven hells she stinks.’ Edward groaned, unhanding the pillow and pulling Y/N's arm, allowing her to fall onto his lap. He nudged his cold nose into her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

‘Just for a second, please. Need to clear my nose.’ He huffed, his nose barely grazing the nape of her neck.

‘This seems normal for teenagers.’ Y/N mumbled, her cheeks feeling hot. ‘Also are you sitting on my bed with outside clothes? Her voice took on a stern tone.

‘Mm I’ll change your sheets for you.’ Edward’s eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes ticking Y/N’s skin. ‘Are they in that closet?’ He jutted out his thumb.

‘Uh huh. I’m gonna change. If you peek I will scream and Charlie will shoot you. You won’t die but it’ll hurt.’ Y/N pointed, before grabbing some clothing from the opened closet and walking into the bathroom.

‘Feisty one aren’t ya?’ Edward snickered, pulling off her covers and starting to swap out her sheets.

-

It was now nine and Y/N had settled into her sheets, allowing Edward to slide in with her. He had gone home and changed his clothing in about ten seconds.

Unbeknownst to Y/N he had literally torn off his shirt in such a hurry.

She was leaning into his side, his arm resting on her bed frame.

‘You’re not going to watch me sleep are you?’ Y/N wrinkled her nose.

‘No, I would never do that without your permission.’ Edward shook his head, his tone insistent. ‘I only came up here because I wanted to wish you goodnight before tomorrow.’ He sat up straighter, looking panicked.

‘I was joking.’ Y/N laughed quietly, nudging him with her elbow. ‘Now go home so your family doesn’t think I put out on the first date.’

‘They wouldn’t think that. They adore you, Alice and Rosalie especially. Rosalie thinks you’re cute and Alice wants to take you shopping.’ Edward sighed, slipping off her bed and straightening up his clothes.

‘Huh, I knew i should’a dressed better…’ Y/N frowned, looking back at her closet.

‘You would look great in a trash bag.’

‘Why the flying fuck would I be wearing a trash bag.’

‘Good point.’ Edward smiled.

‘Until good morrow my dear kind sir.’

‘I bid thee a fine farewell fair lady.’ Edward gave a small bow, hand over his heart, eyes lowered.

‘Close the window on your way out Edward.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, sliding back into her bed.

‘Sweet dreams Y/N/N.’ He winked, sliding smoothly out of her window and shutting it quietly. With a final wave, Edward dropped with a soft almost unnoticeable whump leaving Y/N alone in her room.

‘What a day.’ Y/N mumbled, turning off her lamp.

EDIT-

OK SO IDK I kind of want to write out Bella, I think as a character she isn't quite as developed (Stephanie Meyer kind of self inserted so.... She's pretty one dimensional making it kind of hard to write unless I make her my own character.) So lmk what you think? Sorry it took so long! I'm going to the doctors today so I thought i might as well show you guys what I have for chapter five! Follow the post if you want to see the updates! (you can unfollow after I've updated! Tag lists are beyond me-) (p.s if you comment I'll probably @ you when I've updated!)

[reiderwriter]

hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

[callsign-rogueone]

questions

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader (sweetheart!) Part three of Ridoc and Sweetheart's story words: 2.9k 🏷: no real book spoilers, this will make more sense if you've read Resson (Garrick's version) but it's not required, set a week or two into Iron Flame, this is a sweetheart chapter so warning for intrusive / self-deprecating thoughts and anxiety spirals, I made a bunch of stuff up about Ridoc's life because RY never told us anything, Rhith being a cool mom, this hasn't been proofread, oops. gonna go have a bagel now byeeee

Rhith had told you that Ridoc would meet you at the gates at eleven — so naturally you’ve been standing there since 10:45, rocking back and forth on your heels and peeling your cuticles.

Why did you agree to do this? Actually, this was your idea — why did you bring it up? What if he’s not going to show up, and you’re just going to stand here for an hour like an idiot?

“Hey! Am I late?” he asks, startling you out of your thoughts. He’s a little out of breath, like he’d ran here, but he offers you a wide smile nonetheless.

You open your mouth to speak just as the bells chime. 

“Guess not,” he laughs when they’re done. “You ready to go?”

You nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets so he can’t see the state of your fingers. Thankfully it’s not too hot to wear your flight jacket. This is your first venture into town, and you don’t want to have your relic on display when you’re in a new place — just going is scary enough.

He leads the way — of course he knows where you’re going. He probably goes out every weekend with his friends; another way you’re completely different.

“I figured we could play twenty questions,” he offers. “Get to know each other a little more. You can go first, if you want.”

You take a second to remember how to speak again. “Alright, um… do you have any hobbies?”

“Coming up with jokes is pretty time consuming.”

“And here I thought they were all completely spontaneous,” you say, shaking your head. “Do you write them all down in that fabled diary of yours?”

He laughs. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t actually have one?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering it. “Only because I don’t see you spending your free time sitting down, writing.” 

“You wound me, sweetheart. I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of writing complete sentences.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just said that I didn’t see you doing it.”

“Fair. Tell me about your book,” he prompts. “The one you’re always carrying around.”

“That’s not a question.”

He gives you a sly smile. “Well played. I’ll rephrase, then. What’s the book about? Do you like it?”

“That’s two questions.”

He laughs, warm and full. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Three.”

“Okay, okay. The first one, then — what's it about?”

“The main character is a trained assassin who is called before the king to join a contest to become his hitman, basically. But the contestants keep getting murdered in the night by some creature that they can’t track down.  It’s part of a series, but I’ve never seen the other volumes anywhere. I like to imagine a different ending every time I read it.”

“You’ve read it more than once?”

You ignore the fact that that’s yet another question, answering it without protest. “Yeah. I know that’s dumb, but it was the book I was in the middle of when my life went to shit. It’s technically property of the library in Aretia, but it was burnt to the ground, so I never gave it back.”

Your heart beats a little faster at the mention of your hometown, and you immediately regret bringing it up, but thankfully Ridoc seems none the wiser. 

“There’s nothing dumb about it if it makes you happy.”

You’ve just stepped into the tiny restaurant when a man that you guess is the owner sees Ridoc and pulls him into a tight hug. “I was wondering when you’d bring your girlfriend!”

Your cheeks warm, but you don’t correct him — that would be too awkward.

Ridoc doesn’t correct him either. “I set up Ezra here with ice that never melts,” he explains with a smile.

“It’s been a blessing. Keeps everything fresh longer, so I don’t have to waste it. You two sit — I’ll make you something special, on the house.” He disappears into the tiny kitchen in the back, leaving the two of you alone in the nearly-empty dining room. 

Ridoc gestures to a table in the corner, away from the door, and you settle into the chair silently. You can’t help but run through Garrick’s mental checklist — your back is to the wall, and you have clear sight of the two exits. You have a knife in your right boot and one in your left sleeve — plus the blunt one laid on the table in front of you. The fork would probably do more damage, though.

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Hm? Oh. Right.” You take a moment to look at him. “Why are you here?”

He gives you a stupid grin. “Because you asked me on a date.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I mean, why Basgiath? Why the rider’s quadrant?”

“Oh, I know. I just wanted to remind you that this whole thing was your idea. But really… probably because I’m an adrenaline junkie who feels like he has to prove to the world that he’s not an idiot. And I’ve always admired the riders and their magic. We can do some pretty cool shit.” 

There’s a pause, and his voice softens as he continues. “I know you didn’t want to be here, so I probably sound super ignorant saying all that. I do think it’s fucked up that you didn’t get a choice — and the way that they handled all of it.”

“I respect your answer. It was honest.”

His turn for a question. “How do you feel about it, really, being here? Not here as in here,” he clarifies, tapping the table, “but at Basgiath.”

You look at him for a second. “Is that your question, or…”

“It can be. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we can go back to the dumb ones.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say quietly, thinking for a second. “I’ve accepted it, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

He’s quiet, giving you space to elaborate — the same way Garrick does; not prying, but silently offering to let you tell him what you’re thinking, if you want to.

“Challenges are the one thing here that doesn’t scare me, because I don’t have to think about it anymore. I know what to do if someone takes a swing at me, and I know how to disarm someone, because Garrick made me practice hundreds of times. But everything else…” 

“Is uncertain and unfamiliar, and therefore scary,” he finishes for you. 

You’re a little surprised by the gentle tone of his voice, the lack of judgment in his words. “That pretty much sums it up.”

Another pause.

“I’ve had an anxiety disorder pretty much my whole life,” you admit. “I was that kid in school that everyone thought couldn’t speak, because I never talked to anyone, except my siblings. Liam was my first real friend who was my age. He didn’t mind the quiet. We would just sit together, and he’d do his wood carvings while I read my books. That was good enough for both of us.”

“Where are they now? Your siblings, I mean.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking down at the tablecloth and the barely distinguishable pattern of flowers woven into it. 

“I know that’s two in a row for me,” he says, backpedaling. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I had a brother and a sister. They were eight and ten years older than me, but they were my best friends. I think they knew that I didn’t have anyone my age, so they always let me tag along for everything until they left for Basgiath.”

“They went here?”

You nod. “As infantry. When they graduated, they joined Fen Riorson’s movement, and a few years later, they were executed along with my parents.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Something compels you to keep talking, to push past the awkwardness and condolences. “I don’t mind talking about them. It’s hard, but they were an important part of my life, and they deserve to be remembered. Losing them was devastating, but Garrick and my foster sister helped fill that void.”

You trace a fingernail over one of the tiny flowers. “I think… I think that’s why I kept pushing you away, and why I haven’t really made any friends here. Being marked doesn’t help, but I can never let myself get close to anyone, because everyone I’ve ever been close to has left me, one way or another.”

You can’t bring yourself to say “died” — and that wouldn’t be quite correct, either. Garrick is very much alive, last you’d heard, but he’s at least a twelve hour flight away. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I only met her twice, but she was always kind to me and everyone she met.”

It takes you a second to realize that he means your foster sister — as far as Ridoc and the rest of the school know, she’d died at Resson along with Liam and Soleil.

“She was,” you say softly. 

It feels weird speaking about her in the past tense. You know she’s not dead, that she’s safe with Brennan and the elders, but the last time you saw her, she might as well have been — she’d felt so cold, and looked so drained, unable to respond to you or even open her eyes. 

She has to be awake by now, starting to recover. She has to push through, if for no reason other than that it would absolutely shatter both you and Garrick if she didn’t. 

Ridoc exhales, choosing his next words carefully. “I really am sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that, especially so young. But for what it’s worth, which probably isn’t a lot — I think you’re handling it all incredibly well, and you’re really brave for it.”

You, handling anything well? and being brave? Yeah, right. You take a sip of water to cover the look of dry disbelief on your face, but he sees it anyway. 

“I mean it. Bravery isn’t “never being scared”, it’s “being scared but doing the scary thing anyway”, and you’ve been doing that every day for the last year — for your whole life, honestly. I think that’s admirable.”

You blink at him for a moment, surprised. 

“It’s true,” Rhith says gently. 

“Thank you,” you say softly — to both of them. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

He offers you a soft smile. “I think that’s enough deep questions for now. Thank you for telling me all of that, though. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t,” you agree. “But I feel… lighter.”

“Lighter is good.”

Ezra arrives at the perfect time, holding a tray with two plates of steaming noodles and two glasses of water, placing them in front of you and making a quick exit.

Ridoc brushes a hand against his glass, and you watch the pattern of frost crawl over the edges as it chills itself near instantly. “Want me to do yours?”

You blink, realizing he’s speaking to you. “Sure. Thank you.”

He pushes the cold glass toward you, taking the other and chilling it for himself.

The question comes out before you can think. “How long did it take you to get used to the cold?”

He looks up at you, surprised. “Not long. A week, maybe. I run hot, so sometimes it’s kinda nice.”

You nod in understanding. He’d been warm to the touch when he’d wrapped his arms around you, and you’d melted right into him. That was a first. But so is this, and it seems to be going okay.

You both eat without further discussion, every minute of quiet a little more comfortable than the last. The food is good — better than anything they serve at Basgiath. 

“So, where’s home for you?” you ask after a while.

“Deaconshire,” he answers. “My dad’s still out there. It’s been just me and him for a while.”

“Not too far, then,” you comment, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he hadn’t mentioned his mother. 

“Yeah. I’ve thought about going AWOL for an afternoon, just to see him for an hour or two. But at least the letters will arrive fast.”

“Right,” you say softly, pushing the last piece of pasta around your plate idly. 

It hadn’t really sunk in yet that you can write letters now, as a second year. You could write to Garrick, but it would be too dangerous to send anything to Aretia, with the professors reading everything to make sure there’s no classified information being spread. You might be able to write to the Duke, and hope he passes it on to the right people, but that would still be deemed suspicious. 

Maybe Bodhi could help you.

“Where’d Garrick get stationed?” he asks.

“Samara,” you answer quietly. 

He winces, knowing that’s right on the front between Navarre and Poromiel, but he recovers quickly. “He’s with Xaden, right? They’ll take care of each other.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll be fine,” he reassures. “They were the two biggest, most intimidating dudes in fourth wing. Nobody’s going to mess with them — but if anyone’s dumb enough to try, they’ll get what’s coming to them. And they can definitely kick ass in the air, too.”

He’s right — they’ll be fine.

Probably.

“Yeah,” you say again, hoping it sounds convincing. “They can definitely hold their own.” But against wyvern… what if what happened to Deigh happens to Chradh or Sgaeyl, and there’s nothing they can do? 

You force the thought out of your head before the universe can hear it and make it come true. 

“You ready to head back?” he asks gently.

You nod in affirmation, and he gets up, finding Ezra. The owner bids him a cheerful goodbye that includes a hearty pat on the back, while you stand by the table and offer him a weak wave and a soft thank you.

The walk back to the school is quiet, only the crunching of gravel under your boots, but this time the silence isn’t as loud.

You’ve already said everything you needed to say, laid all your cards face up on the table and shown them to the other — almost all of them, you think with a little flare of guilt, but there are some things you just can’t tell anyone, for the sake of Tyrrendor in its entirety.

“This one’s mine,” you say quietly, stopping in front of your door. 

You call it yours, but it doesn’t feel that way. Just because you sleep here and your stuff is piled up in the corner, yet to be unpacked, doesn’t make it feel like yours, and doesn’t make it feel safe, despite the ward that Garrick had helped you put up before he left for Samara with Xaden.

Ridoc offers you a warm smile. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I’d really like to see you again, if you want.”

“I’d like that too.”

He lingers, and for a moment you’re worried that he’s expecting something of you, but he remains a few steps away, his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you,” you add. “For today. And for finding me yesterday.”

“Of course, sweetheart. And next time you start to feel that way, you can have Rhith tell Aotrom to get me, okay? You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone.”

“Okay,” you say softly. 

He gives you another knee-weakening smile before he heads off, disappearing into a room that must be his — eight doors down, on the other side of the hall.

You make it inside just as the bells strike twelve thirty. The afternoon is still young.

You decide to unpack — starting by shoving the box of your sister’s things into the bottom of the armoire. You’d burned most of her stuff, to maintain the appearance that she’s actually dead, but you and Garrick had both taken some for yourselves. Malek couldn’t get mad about that, right?

You don’t know if you should worry what he thinks or not — you despise him for taking everyone away from you, but you need to remain in his good graces if you want to keep the few people you have left. But you aren’t sure how — it remains unclear what you did, or didn’t do, to deserve that. 

“It was nothing you did,” Rhith says gently, startling you. “And you didn’t deserve it.”

“Sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to project that to you.”

“We’ve talked about the apologies, sweet one,” she prods. “They’re never necessary.”

“Sor—” you stop yourself before you can finish the word. “I’ll work on that.”

She changes the subject for you. “I’m proud of what you did today. I know that was difficult for you.”

“It’s easier with him,” you say quietly. “I don’t know why, but it is.”

“Many things don’t require explanation. It is enough to simply appreciate them.” 

Spoken like a true green. “I wish I could be as logical as you,” you sigh. 

“There is value in both logic and emotion, but there is a balance to be found between them.”

You sit with the statement for a moment as you start to fold the laundry you’d shoved into a bag and dragged up the stairs when you’d moved, trying to smooth out the wrinkles to no avail.

“What do you think?” you ask. “about him, I mean.”

“I think he has a good heart. He genuinely cares for you, but it is your decision whether to trust him or not. And even if you do, there are some things that he can never know.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

“I’m proud of you, my girl.”

You’re a little bit proud of yourself too.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi, can you write a story where the reader is pregnant with a baby girl. One day while Peter is playing “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder on the piano, the baby starts kicking and they decide to make that her song. Bonus: After she's born, it's the only song that will calm her down when she's fussy.

Hi there! This request was so cute. Thanks for requesting!

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . °

𝐈𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → none

Summary → "Isn't She Lovely" is your baby girl's song.

(gif not mine)

The first time it happened, you were lying on the couch, half-watching Peter fiddle with the piano in the corner of your apartment. You were six months pregnant, your baby bump round and firm beneath the oversized hoodie you'd stolen from Peter, and exhaustion was settling deep into your bones.

Peter was sitting at the piano bench, his fingers hesitating over the keys. "Okay, okay, wait—I think I got it this time," he muttered to himself, adjusting his posture like he was about to perform at Carnegie Hall.

You smiled, resting your hand on your belly. "Are you seriously struggling with ‘Isn’t She Lovely?’ "

"Hey! It's harder than it looks," he defended, shooting you an offended glance over his shoulder. "I wanna get it right."

You hummed in amusement. "For who? Me? Baby girl?"

Peter grinned, turning back to the piano. "Both of you. But mostly her."

With that, he started playing, his fingers moving carefully across the keys. The melody filled the room, warm and sweet, and despite his self-deprecating complaints, he played beautifully. You closed your eyes, soaking it in, letting the music settle into your chest.

And then—

"Oof!" Your eyes flew open as a sudden, strong kick thumped against your ribs.

Peter instantly turned his head. "What? What happened?"

You blinked in surprise, then let out a breathy laugh. "She kicked. Hard."

Peter’s eyes widened. "During the song?"

"Yeah." You placed a hand over your belly, rubbing the spot where she'd moved. "Like, really strong. Try playing again."

Peter adjusted his fingers on the keys, starting from the beginning. The moment the familiar notes filled the room, the baby kicked again—this time, twice in a row.

Your mouth dropped open. "Oh my God, she likes it."

Peter's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Are you serious?" He immediately stopped playing, shifting off the bench and kneeling in front of you. His hands found your belly, warm and gentle. "Hey, baby girl, you like the music?"

In response, another kick.

Peter gasped, looking up at you with wide, excited eyes. "Did you feel that?!"

You laughed. "Yes, Pete, I felt it. She's inside me."

Peter didn’t even register your sarcasm—he was too busy grinning like a lovestruck fool, hands still splayed over your bump. "This is it. This is officially her song. No take-backs."

You melted at the pure joy in his face. "Guess we better get used to hearing it all the time, huh?"

"I don't mind," Peter said, his voice soft as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your belly. "Isn’t she lovely? Yeah, she is. She totally is."

---

Four Months Later…

The first time Mayday Parker let out an ear-piercing cry, Peter nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get to her bassinet.

"Okay, okay, baby, we’re here," he soothed, reaching in to scoop her up. You were right behind him, rubbing your tired eyes.

"What time is it?" you mumbled.

Peter glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Three in the morning."

You groaned. "She just ate an hour ago. What’s wrong now?"

Peter bounced Mayday gently in his arms, whispering soft reassurances, but her tiny face was scrunched up in distress, her cries echoing through the apartment. He tried rocking her, walking back and forth, rubbing her back—nothing.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "What if—"

Peter suddenly paused. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait." His eyes flickered toward the piano.

You blinked. "Peter, no."

Peter ignored you, making his way to the instrument while still holding Mayday. He sat down, carefully adjusting her in his arms before placing his fingers on the keys.

The moment he started playing Isn’t She Lovely, the crying started to stop.

Your jaw dropped.

Peter stared at Mayday, utterly dumbfounded. Her tiny body relaxed against his chest, her sniffles fading into peaceful silence as she listened to the music.

You pressed a hand to your forehead. "You have got to be kidding me."

Peter looked up at you, his expression torn between amusement and absolute adoration. "She wasn’t kidding when she kicked to this song, huh?"

You crossed your arms, torn between frustration and overwhelming love for both your husband and daughter. "I swear, if this is the only thing that calms her down—"

Peter smirked. "Guess I better get really good at it then."

You sighed, walking over to sit beside him on the bench. Your head rested against his shoulder, watching as Mayday’s tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her breathing soft and even.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to Peter’s shoulder. "Well… it is a pretty good song."

Peter beamed. "Only the best for my girls."

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[hailthegodsong]

LOVE IS OLD, LOVE IS NEW

Two-Shot Part 1 ~ Daniel Wagner / Female Reader 𓅪

Word Count: + 10.6k

AN: This is a comfort fic! Danny is not the cheater! This fic changed a lot from when I started writing it to when it ended, so I hope you enjoy wherever my mind went while I wrote this…

Content Warnings: Hurt/comfort heartbreak, crying, cheating, insecurity, nudity, deprecating thoughts, intense sadness, self-isolation, boner, mentions of sexual situations, lots of skin touching including breasts (but in a non-sexual way), love confessions, mentions of sex, considerate Danny.

𓅪

“You alright?” Danny asked, pausing the movement of his fingers and ripping his intense attention from the melodic chords he had been working on, letting his acoustic guitar falter in his hands.

You looked up from your phone, “What? Oh, yeah, fine.”

You weren’t really fine. It was your boyfriend, Otis’s birthday, and you hadn’t been able to get a hold of him all day. You swiped through your text chain, seeing that your message at 7am wishing him a happy birthday was followed by an embarrassing amount of messages almost once an hour asking what he was doing, how he was doing, and if he was okay.

You had grown unbelievably restless, your anxiety bordering between genuine concern for his well being, and fear that he was shutting you out for some reason.

Though, this wasn’t completely unusual for Otis. He had always been distant, emotionally elusive in a way that left you second guessing your every move. Sometimes, he would go an entire day without a word, shutting down for reasons you could never quite figure out. You attributed it to the way he must’ve been raised, but often, and without warning, he would go into a mood. You had tried to understand, tried to make excuses for it. Maybe he just needed space. Maybe you were overreacting.

It was terribly confusing, but you’d grown used to it, trying your hardest to take note of anything that may be a consistent trigger in his moods.

Danny, who was by far your closest friend, did not approve of his behaviour at all. In fact, he didn’t approve of Otis full stop. You had grown up together, graduated together, and were now splitting the rent of some small, shitty apartment in Nashville together, and it was hard for you to conceal the faults in your relationship when Danny seemed to always be there.

“You sure? You’ve been staring at that phone all afternoon,” he argued pointedly.

You huffed and ran a hand down the side of your face, “It’s just Otis…it’s his birthday but he hasn’t texted me back all day.” You paused, and Danny set his guitar down, its neck leaning against the arm of the couch you were both seated on. “I’m getting kinda worried,” you added.

Danny’s jaw tightened at the mention of Otis, a familiar tension brewing in his stance. You knew what he thought of your boyfriend, he had never been shy about it. As your best friend since childhood, Danny had always been protective of you, and he couldn’t stand how Otis treated you. To Danny, Otis was an undeserving ghost, always there, but never really present.

But it wasn’t as if Otis treated you poorly. No, you wouldn’t be dating him if he was. He just was a bit flaky sometimes- physically and emotionally.

Danny’s brows furrowed, “That is weird. Maybe he’s just busy with friends or something?” he suggested.

You shook your head, “No, he told me he was celebrating with them on the weekend. Told me he would see me today too,” you said anxiously, biting at the corners of your nails.

“Stop that,” Danny warned, pulling your hands away from your mouth.

It was a habit you seemed to have only picked up only recently, and Danny was always quick to stop it as soon as he saw you begin to nibble at the uneven edges of the nail.

“You’re right, ‘s a bit worrying. I would be pretty worried as well. Did he go out last night?” Danny asked.

“No.” You were beginning to feel more and more nervous, anxiety flooding through your body as you wondered what was going on.

You suddenly stood, “I think I’m gonna go over to his place. Maybe he’s just been sleeping all day.”

Danny glanced at his watch and grimaced when he saw that it was 5pm. He refrained from telling you he highly doubted it, not wanting to worry you any further.

“Shit,” you cursed as you looked out the window and saw that it was absolutely pouring with rain. You hurried to your bedroom to find a raincoat.

“Let me drive you,” Danny suggested, his voice now coming from his own room as he grabbed himself a sweater. You both emerged from your rooms and met in the hallway, and before you could protest he added, “Please. I don’t feel good knowing you’re driving in this weather.”

You scoffed, “Underestimating my driving skills, Wagner?” You carried the gifts you had bought Otis, including the bouquet of flowers into the living room with you and placed them on the table next to your handbag.

“Maybe,” Danny teased and you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

It took less than five minutes to gather your things. The bouquet of flowers, a few small wrapped gifts, and your handbag. Once you had hastily gotten your things in order, Danny grabbed his car keys off the table and opened the front door for you.

“Need me to hold anything?” he asked, watching in amusement as you fumbled with the flowers, presents, your bag and your phone.

You laughed, “Yes please.”

He took the flowers and a few gifts from your arms and you both descended the long, winding stairs wordlessly until you were in the shared car park.

“I’m sure it’s all fine,” Danny assured he held the door open for you to get into the car.

“Yeah me too. Just really wanna see him, you know?” You immediately regretted saying it once the words left your mouth.

You usually tried to keep the Otis conversation minimal with Danny, knowing that he didn’t really like him. Danny hummed anyway, despite his disagreement, and started the car before reversing out of the garage. He handed you your favourite Beatles CD for you to put into the stereo while he drove, and you felt overwhelmingly appreciative of his attentiveness.

You wanted to believe that nothing was wrong, and that Otis just hadn't had a chance to look at his phone yet. But with each mile closer to Otis’s apartment, the pit in your stomach grew heavier, and the knot in your chest tighter. Each time you checked your phone, there was no new message. No missed calls. Nothing.

Throughout the drive, it was clear to you that Danny was trying his hardest to keep you from overthinking. You felt like he didn’t stop talking for the majority of the ride, telling you about the latest disagreement between Josh and Jake and how he, like usual, had to save the day with his mediation skills. He managed to make you laugh too, always knowing just what you needed when you weren’t feeling your absolute best.

You had to direct Danny the way there, which was quite difficult thanks to the bucketing rain that restricted visibility of anything twenty metres in front of you. 

Eventually you made it to his apartment, and Danny pulled over on the side of the road to drop you off, seeing as there was no carpark for him to stop in.

“Alright, be safe please. Text if you need anything,” Danny recited, the words he told you each time you parted. It had been that way since you could remember.

“I will! Thanks for the lift!”

Balancing your things in your arms, you quickly jumped out of the car to not hold up and more traffic.

Danny drove off when one of the impatient cars behind him gave him a beep for taking so long. You rushed up to Otis’s apartment building front door, bullets of rain almost soaking you completely as you covered the short distance.

Your shoes splashed heavily on the street which had become one big puddle. You sighed when you finally reached the building, protected from the rain by the large overhang that wrapped around the large building.

As you made your way into the apartment and climbed the levels to his, you glanced at your phone once more to check if he had messaged you, and frowned when there was nothing. A little puffed, you finally reached his unit. Before you knocked, you peeked a glance at the crack at the bottom of the door where a light was beaming through. So he was home.

You bit back a shiver as you raised your hand and pressed the doorbell. You always liked the tune Otis’s doorbell made. It was quite unconventional, not the normal tune they made and not a jarring ring either, but a nice melody all the same.

You hugged yourself tightly in the cold as you awaited a response, and when you didn’t get one, you rang the doorbell again. Finally, the front door swung open, and you were met with Otis, his slim figure on full display as only a pair of white and blue striped boxers hung low on his hips.

You smiled brightly, despite his state of undress and the fact that he had neglected speaking to you all day. “Happy birthday!” you exclaimed.

He shot you a quick, tight smile, before his face turned serious, eyes scanning the scene behind you. “Thank you Baby, but uh… what are you doing here?” he asked.

You faltered, “What do you mean?”

He looked at you as if you had done something ridiculous, “Well we didn’t plan anything. I hadn’t exactly said you could come over.”

You took a step back into the hallway, “Oh, I just thought that…”

You were mortified. But you were also incredibly upset. It was his birthday, but you had still felt some kind of obligation that he at least see you on the special day. He was your boyfriend after all.

“I got worried. You weren’t responding,” you explained, feeling a deep set frown fall to your face.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and you suddenly became very aware of his positioning. He was standing in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame and letting the door hang almost closed behind him while he stepped marginally closer in each moment and effectively backed you further away from the entrance.

“Yeah well, I just got caught up in something.”

Just as you were about to ask what, a slender hand, adorning deep red acrylic nails raked across his bare abdomen.

“Baby, what’s taking you so long?” a sultry voice asked, and you could see longer dark hair peeking behind his body.

Unable to believe your eyes, your mouth parted in silent shock, face dropping in realisation, and you peered over his shoulder to see the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, clad in only her underwear behind him.

Blinking, you watched as his face morphed into course red embarrassment, and his eyes widened in fear.

“Oh,” you stated.

“No Baby, it’s not what it-” he started, moving towards you to take your arm.

“Stop it. Don’t,” you shook his hands off you, “Don’t touch me.”

Tears instantly welled in your eyes and the lump in your throat felt like it was going to choke you.

“Wha- why?” you managed to choke out. He looked at you sympathetically, but before he could open his mouth, the woman behind him appeared at his side.

If you thought her face was gorgeous, her body was bound to make you pass out. Her breasts were full and round, and her slim, toned waist was a beautiful compliment. Her hips widened at just the right spot, and were void of dips or stretch marks, and it suddenly became glaringly obvious to you where everything had gone wrong.

She gave you a harsh look up and down, assessing your clothing and you could only assume your body. Your arms crossed over your front in insecurely, now regretting the old coat, faded jeans and casual shoes you had thrown on in your state of worry and anticipation.

You hiccuped a sob back when she placed a hand on his chest and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. Otis, to his credit, looked wildly uncomfortable by her actions and tried to shrug her off, looking at you pleadingly.

You couldn’t see any more. You couldn’t stand there for another second longer or you were going to explode.

You wished you were more angry. You should have been furious, yelling at him and ripping your keys out to key his car. But instead, you felt a deep pit of sadness in your belly. The type of pit that drags everything down with it. The type of pit that consumes all it can from its host just to continue its relentless torment.

You needed to get the fuck out of there.

Breathing turned shakey, you turned and walked so quickly down the hallway that you thought you were going to pull a hamstring.

Otis called your name from behind you, and you thanked the Gods that he was too naked to follow you. You descended the stairs in a daze, hot tears running down your cheeks, but you were too focused on getting out that you knew you needed to hold them back.

Once you made it to the building's exit, you realised that you were still cradling the birthday presents you had bought him. In an act of anger, you stormed out of the complex and threw them in a heap onto the grass beside the door, letting all the money you had wasted on him get destroyed under the unforgiving downpour of rain.

Then you realised you were also in the rain. And you were getting soaked. You quickly pulled your phone out and pulled up Danny’s contact to call him.

Restricted sobs began to shake your body, and you were having an incredibly hard time maintaining your composure, if you could even call it that anymore.

The phone only rang twice before Danny’s voice spoke through the speakers.

“Hey, what’s up,” he answered casually. You could hear his car keys hitting the little key bowl you had by the front door, indicating he had quite literally just gotten home, making you feel even worse about asking him to come and pick you up.

He called your name in question when you didn’t respond.

“Did you- did you just get home?” you asked, trying feebly to conceal the emotion in your voice, but the sobs and sharp inhales did close to nothing in helping.

“Fuck, are you okay? What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, and you could hear the keys jingle again, accompanied by the front door slamming shut.

“I’m,” you tried to say through broken sobs, “I’m okay. I just need- can you come and pick me up? Ple- please?”

“I’m already on my way.” True to his word, you could hear the engine vibrating in the background of the call. “Please tell me what happened. Are you safe?” he asked frantically.

You nodded, before realising that he couldn’t actually see you, “I’m- I’m okay. Just cold,” you began scanning the area, looking for a spot you could stand that was concealed from the rain.

There was no way you were going back inside the complex building, and you quickly realised that your best bet was a tree nearby. You hastily made your way over, sneakers getting ruined in the dirt, each step accompanied by a squelch. The rain wasn’t as relentless under the cover in the tree, but thick drops still fell and coated your skin, hair and clothes. You were shivering violently now, wondering why on earth you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

"Where are you?" Danny's voice was soft but laced with concern.

"Same place you dropped me off," you muttered, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. It wasn't hard to guess that Danny probably knew something had gone wrong with Otis. But you could bet he'd never imagine the full extent of it.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could sense Danny was biting his tongue, holding back from asking the questions swirling in his mind. He knew better than to press you when you were like this, though. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good. That much was obvious.

"Okay, honey, I’m nearly there. Can you try taking some deep breaths while you wait for me, please?" His voice was steady, trying to ground you through the phone. It was only then that you became aware of the sound of your own ragged, gasping sobs.

"Ye-yes... okay." You forced yourself to breathe deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, but each inhale felt heavy, the weight of your chest pressing down harder with every beat of your racing heart. You tried to follow Danny's request, but every time your pulse began to slow, your mind betrayed you. You couldn't stop the image from flashing in your head, those sharp red acrylic nails raking across his chest.

Your stomach churned, nausea rising as you cursed your vivid imagination. What would those hands look like wrapped around his neck, or worse, holding his hand? What would those nails look like tracing against his skin, trailing down his back in the heat of the moment as she whispered his name in his ear? The thought made your blood run cold, and tears welled up in your eyes once again.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thoughts to vanish. But they clung to you, persistent and cruel, reminding you of everything you were afraid to face. It wasn’t just the physical imagery, either. It was the emotional betrayal of the way his eyes might soften when he looked at her, the way he might laugh at her jokes. She probably made him feel something you couldn’t. And he had probably been slipping away for quite some time.

A broken sob escaped your lips, and you clenched your fists at your sides, wishing you could stop thinking about it, wishing you could stop hurting. You knew Danny was close, but the minutes felt like hours. You hated how powerless you felt, sitting there, cold and waiting, suffocated by your own thoughts.

“It’s okay. Whatever it is it’s okay it’ll be okay. I’m nearly there, just hang on a little longer for me, okay?” Danny repeated, hearing your breathing pick up again.

You crouched on the dirt to hug some warmth into you, humming in response to his question. “Danny, can you- can you put the heat on in the car… please. I’m really cold,” you asked and you immediately heard him shuffle with the knobs on the dashboard.

“Are you- are you in the rain?” he asked with urgency.

“I was… I’m standing under a tree now.”

He sighed, “Okay I’m rounding the corner now, can you see me?” he asked and you looked up at the road. True to his word, you could see his black car nearing you as it sped down the road.

“Yes.” You got up and quickly walked to the edge of the street. The rain soaked you again, and you abandoned even attempting to cover your head from its assault.

He pulled up to you at record breaking speed, and breaked harshly beside you on the road. You swung the door open and practically fell into the passenger seat, being immediately engulfed by the warmth of the car.

You slammed the door shut, and muttered a small ‘sorry’ through your shudders as you did up your seat belt.

Being a busy street, Danny had to take off as soon as you were buckled up, and you looked down at the water dripping off your shoes into the car.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he commented, as you tried to take off your top jacket to avoid completely soaking his seats. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, trying to keep your back from the seat to not soak the interior of his car. He had already given you a lift to and from Otis’s house, and the least you could do was not ruin his car in the process. You were trying your hardest to withhold the sobs, but hot tears mixed with the wetness of your face as the lump in your throat began to burn.

“Honey…” Danny comforted when he saw your emotional state. He found the closest quiet street and pulled over on the side of the road. 

As soon as the handbrake was on and the car was in neutral, Danny turned to you, clipping off his seatbelt to reach you better. He reached to unclip your seatbelt too, and without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms. 

Though it had been steadily trickling since you left Otis’s house, the dam completely broke when you felt the familiar and comforting embrace of Danny. He rubbed soothing strokes up and down your soaked back with a soft flat palm, his hand shuddering against each shaky breath you took. 

“Are you hurt? I need to know you’re okay, physically,” he asked, still keeping you tight in his arms. 

“I’m not hurt. I’m okay,” you sobbed, clutching at his shirt behind his back. 

“Shhh,” he cooed as your sobs continued, “What’s going on? What happened?”

You pulled away from him, slipping back into your seat and wiping furiously at your red and wet eyes. “There was,” you shuddered, “There was a woman,” you explained, eyes now trained on the window wipers that feebly tried to push away the waves of water that fell from the sky, “They were both naked.”

“What?” The volume of his voice was jarring in the otherwise silence of the car. You dared not speak, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Danny had warned you that Otis wasn’t a good person, but you had ignored him, and you were now putting the weighted burden of your mistake on his shoulders. 

Danny ran a frustrated hand through his hair and you kept your eyes before you, silent tears now running down your cheeks. 

“She’s really pretty,” you added, and Danny eyed you carefully. He stared at you for a long time, as if trying to see through your skin and into your brain to read every thought that was running through your mind. When he couldn't find anything other than self-loathing and depreciation, he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I- fuck I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” 

You shook in the cold as you stared out the window, unspeaking as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. When he realised you weren’t going to respond, he turned in his seat again and popped the car back into gear before he continued the drive home. He was watching your body shake violently from the cold and knew that as much as he wanted to hold you until you were better, you needed to get out of your wet clothes and into something warm and dry.

“Don't do that,” Danny said, pulling your thumb away from your mouth as you attacked the skin around it. 

“‘M sorry,” you muttered with a sniffle, pulling your hands to your lap and fiddling with your fingers instead. 

“Don’t need to apologise.”

You were quiet for the rest of the ride. You replayed the moment over and over in your mind, looking back on how he had blatantly told you that he didn't want you there, that you weren’t invited. All because there was another woman. Had she always been there? Was she just a one night stand or had he been cheating on you for longer?

Danny bit his cheek each time he heard you sniffle, every small sound cutting through him like a knife. He glanced over at you, watching as you hastily wiped your eyes, your fingers trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. The sight of you in pain made his chest ache, and every time your hand darted up to your face, he wished he could reach out, pull you close, and wipe your tears away for you. But he didn’t want to push, didn’t want to smother you when you were clearly teetering on the edge.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he navigated the darkening streets, the quiet hum of the car engine doing nothing to soothe the thick tension in the air. You sat next to him, staring out the window, barely moving, but he could see the steady stream of tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. They glistened in the streetlights as you passed them, and he wanted to say something, anything, but he knew no words could fix what you were feeling.

The ride home felt agonisingly long, each second dragging on as Danny tried to focus on the road and not the heart-wrenching sight of you unravelling beside him. He kept biting his cheek, hard enough to taste blood now, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at you every few seconds, praying you’d somehow find a little bit of peace before they made it home.

When Danny finally rolled into the parking spot, the familiarity of your apartment complex looming ahead caused the tears that had slowed for a brief moment on the drive started to pour again, the sight of home making everything worse. The thought of being so close to your bed, to the space where you could collapse and let yourself fully break was overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you hugged your arms around yourself, trying to stop the shivering that had taken over your body. The cold had seeped into your bones, making you shake uncontrollably, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the freezing rain that had soaked through your clothes or the sadness that seemed to settle deep in your chest.

Danny killed the engine and turned to you, eyes soft and full of worry. “Let’s get you inside, okay?” His voice was gentle, but the concern was clear. He didn’t wait for you to respond, opening his door quickly and jogging around to your side, pulling open the passenger door.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he murmured, offering his hand to help you out of the car. You hesitated for just a second, but the exhaustion in your body won out, and you took his hand, letting him guide you. As you stepped out, your legs wobbled beneath you, and without a second thought, Danny wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

You leaned against him, your sobs becoming louder now that you were out of the confined space of the car. His warmth was comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tidal wave of emotion that had hit you. As he helped you up the steps to the apartment, you clung to his sweater, your cold fingers digging into the fabric as if you could hold onto him and stop yourself from spiralling.

Each step felt heavy, the weight of your sadness pressing down on you like a physical force, and you stumbled a little as you climbed. Danny tightened his grip on you, steadying you with every step, whispering quiet reassurances even though he wasn’t sure you could hear them over the sound of your own sobbing.

You weren’t crying for any reason now, yet it felt like your emotional capacity was a heavy ball that had been pushed off a hill. Once it started rolling, you couldn't stop. 

Once inside, the warmth of the apartment hit you, but it did nothing to thaw the ice in your bones. You barely registered Danny closing the door behind you, his arm still around your shoulders as he led you deeper into your apartment. Despite his support, your mind had already begun its familiar descent into destructive thoughts. If Otis didn’t want you, then who would? The rejection felt like a punch to the gut, and the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

Without a word, you pulled away from Danny, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately but ignoring it as you left him standing in the middle of the living room alone. You made a beeline for your bedroom, your body moving on autopilot. The door clicked shut behind you, and even though there wasn’t a lock, you knew Danny wouldn’t come in. He respected your space, your boundaries, but that knowledge only made the ache in your chest deepen. The loneliness pressed in harder, suffocating.

Inside the sanctuary of your room, you didn’t care that you were drenched to the bone, or that your clothes clinging to your body uncomfortably. The cold had long since numbed your skin, and now it was creeping into your muscles, making your limbs ache with a dull, persistent throb. You shivered violently, your teeth chattering so hard they ached, but it was a distant sensation compared to the emotional storm raging inside you.

You toed off your soaked shoes, not even bothering to untie them properly. Normally, the thought of tracking dirt or water onto your bed would have horrified you as your bed was your sacred space, always spotless, always prepared for sleep in clean pyjamas after a long shower. But tonight, none of that mattered. Your mind was too far gone, too consumed by the thoughts that swirled around relentlessly.

You crawled onto the bed without a second thought, the damp sheets immediately sticking to your wet clothes. The fabric clung to your skin, cold and uncomfortable, but it didn’t register. All you could think about was curling into the tightest ball possible, as if making yourself small enough would somehow make the pain disappear.

The sobs wracked your body violently, each one more painful than the last. You pressed your face into the pillow, muffling the sound, but it didn’t stop the flood of tears from soaking the fabric. Your whole body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the anguish that had taken over.

And still, despite the physical discomfort, despite the relentless sobbing, your mind couldn’t stop fixating on Otis. You kept replaying every word he’d said, every look, every action that made you feel like you weren’t enough. You kept thinking about how he didn’t want you, how he didn’t choose you. That gut wrenching feeling of rejection echoed through you like a broken record, and no matter how much you tried to push it away, it lingered.

But it wasn't the loss of Otis that hurt you so much as the feeling of being left behind for someone better. Your self esteem had plummeted, all feelings of security and trust torn apart with no remorse. 

Minutes passed, maybe longer, until you were dimly aware of the soft knock on your door, Danny’s voice drifting through the wood gently.

"Hey… I'm just gonna leave some dry clothes outside your door, okay?" he said, his voice calm but clearly worried. You didn’t respond, too lost in the flood of emotions, but you heard him shuffle around outside before retreating.

A little while later, Danny returned, seeing the pile of clothes left outside untouched. He called your name gently with a brush of his knuckles against the wood, “Can I come in?” he asked cautiously. 

“No,” you called out, muffled in the pillows your face was buried in. 

He hesitated in the silence. “I don’t— I think you need to get out of your wet clothes,” he commented, voice still quiet behind the door. “You might get sick.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult, I’ll do what I want,” you snapped. 

You had no idea where that outburst had come from. You immediately felt guilty as you imagined how Danny would have recoiled at your words and tone of voice. It was glaringly obvious to both you and Danny that you were only acting hostile as a way to protect yourself. Protect the fragile feeling of trust you had so carefully maintained throughout your life.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that… you can come in,” you said so quietly, that Danny may not have even heard you. 

Though with heavy caution, Danny reached down to twist the handle. He knew you didn't mean what you were saying. You were hurt, and had been betrayed in arguably the worst way someone could be. He knew you just needed someone to be in your corner. 

You didn't dare look behind you at Danny as he entered your room, and instead kept your head buried in your pillows. 

“Hey,” he whispered, and you felt the edge of your bed dip as he sat down. He reached out hesitantly, and put his warm palm on your bare arm. He flinched the feeling of your skin, chilled from your still soaked clothes. “Shit, you’re freezing,” he commented. 

With your back still turned, you stared blankly into the plush pillows in front of you, your eyes fixated on the growing wet stain spreading across the fabric. You couldn’t distinguish if it was from your soaked hair or the relentless flow of tears that you had cried. Your pillowcase, usually soft and comforting, now felt cold and uninviting, just another reminder of the misery that clung to you like the dampness in your clothes.

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, each one laboured as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to rise again. The wet patch in front of you seemed to expand with every tear, but you couldn’t muster the energy to wipe your face or even shift positions. 

Everything felt heavy. Your body, your heart, your thoughts. It was as though the weight of everything Otis had said, everything you felt, was sinking into that single spot on the pillow, and no matter how long you stared, it wouldn’t disappear.

“Hey,” he carefully pulled you away from your thoughts. Sniffling, you rolled over to face him, and his heart ached at the sight of you. Eyes and lips swollen, red and raw from your crying, and incessant rubbing. 

“Will you please change into something warmer?” he asked, eyes soft and genuine as he stared at you, his thumb stroking against the cold skin of your arm, “I can help you if you need,” he added. You sighed, hard and long before pushing yourself up from your bed into a sitting position. 

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, letting your head fall into your hands as you groaned, “This is such a mess.”

You looked back up again, assessing the damage you had done to your bed, which carried the consequences of you collapsing in it while still wet. Danny got up quickly, taking the clothes he had left for you outside of your bedroom door and bringing them to you at the bed. 

“I think a warm shower would do you good,” he suggested, “It’ll help you warm up quicker.” The thought of the warm water pouring over your tired and cold muscles seemed like heaven, but now that he was here, you didn't want Danny to leave. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, moving to get up from your bed. Danny rushed out of your bedroom and searched through your shared hallway cupboard for the softest towel he could find. 

He watched as you slowly emerged from your bedroom, posture slumped and insecure, arms wrapped securely around your body. Your jeans and top clung to your body tightly from the slick, and your hair left a wet residue on your neck. 

“I can put the towel in the dryer for you while you shower. That way when you get out it’ll be nice and warm,” he suggested. His attention to detail made you smile. 

Though his offer was kind, you knew what you wanted more than a warm towel. The thought that came into your mind was absurd, and could very possibly make Danny uncomfortable by crossing the boundaries of your friendship that you had both treaded in all those years. But you didn’t want— you couldn’t be left alone, or you feared you would curl up onto the cold tile floors and cry until you died. 

“What's up?” he asked, hand raising to the side of your face to thumb away the remaining tears left on your cheeks. You glanced up at him shyly, trying to reign the confidence to ask him the question.

He frowned at the look of conflict on your face as you debated with yourself, “Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that,” he offered with a kind smile. That same smile that had dried your tears too many times over the years, “‘S only me.”

You took a deep breath, “I just… I don’t know how to say this. I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want— I’m scared of being left alone again,” you admitted though still skirting around the truth of your sudden discomfort. 

“I won't ever leave you alone, you know that. I’m always here for you,” he comforted, stroking your wet hair away from your face in a way that felt so intimate, so domestic, that you nearly began to cry again. 

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean.” You took a deep, steadying breath, “Will— um, will you come with me?” you added in a mumble, cheeks heating at your question. 

He cocked his head in confusion, “Come with you where?” 

You swallowed thickly in embarrassment, physically unable to say the words. You were ready to dismiss it, and tell him it didn't matter when realisation struck his face. 

“You mean… come with you to shower?” he asked quietly, surprise reigning his features at your admittance. 

You were a fool. You had just ruined the relationship you had with your boyfriend, and you were already on track to do the same with your best friend.

“I— I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why I suggested that, seriously, just forget it, I—”

“No, no, stop. I… I’m happy to… if uh, if that’s what you need,” Danny answered, his heart thumping in his chest at your suggestion. This was a boundary that neither of you had ever crossed. Sure you had seen each other close to nakedness before, but only by pure accident or in the form of skimpy swimwear. 

Both of you knew that doing this was different. Even suggesting it had changed something between the two of you, and it had brought to life the truth that you had both been hiding beneath platonic smiles for your whole lives.

You couldn't look at him, and instead looked at the towel he held tightly in his hands, “Are you sure?” you asked quietly. 

Jaw tight and eyes cautious, he nodded silently. “You go and get started, and I’ll uh, join you in a minute, okay?” he suggested and you tucked a tuft of hair behind your ear. 

“Okay,” you whispered. As you turned to walk away, nerves swelling in your stomach at your decision, Danny cleared his throat again. 

"Are you... do you want me to keep my... um, boxers on?" Danny’s voice was as gentle as ever, like slow dripping honey that coated each word with the tenderness you had come to depend on. It was just Danny, always so considerate, always thinking of how to make you feel comfortable, especially in moments as vulnerable as this.

The question, though spoken with the utmost care, still startled you. Your heart skipped, and you felt a small flutter of uncertainty rise in your chest. You feared that whatever answer you gave might lead to discomfort, but there was a deep, aching need inside you to be close to him. Closer than you had ever been before. Something unspoken tugged at you, a silent yearning to connect with him in a way that transcended the physical.

"If you want. But I don't mind if you don't," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended, as if afraid the wrong words might break the fragile atmosphere.

Before he could respond, you turned and made your way down the hallway to the bathroom, the soft patter of your footsteps against the floor the only sound echoing in the quiet apartment. You gently swung the bathroom door shut, leaving it ajar just enough to let him know that he was welcome. You twisted the shower tap, letting the heavy stream of hot water fill the shower, the sound of it pounding against the tile, a soothing background hum that drowned out the noise in your mind.

Your clothes clung stubbornly to your body as you peeled them off, each article of fabric a reminder of the evening's cold and the emotions that had seeped into your bones. The chill in the air bit at your exposed skin, and a violent shiver wracked your body, leaving you trembling as you stood naked in the dim bathroom. You barely spared a glance in the mirror, catching only a fleeting, distorted reflection of yourself, a body that tonight, felt uglier than it ever had. The blotchy redness from your sobs clashed with the paleness of your cold skin, and you looked away quickly, unable to face the image.

Stepping into the shower, you sighed deeply as the hot water cascaded over your head, the sensation washing away the lingering chill. It was a simple pleasure, the heat sinking into your scalp, down your neck, and through your entire body. You tipped your head back, allowing the water to flow over your face, burning just enough to be distracting, before it slid down your shoulders and over the curve of your breasts. For a brief, blissful moment, you forgot about Otis, the heartbreak, the insecurity, everything.

Danny's soft footsteps padding into the bathroom snapped you back to reality, and your heart gave a nervous flutter as you saw his silhouette through the thin shower curtain. You turned your back to him, yet could still feel his presence as he shuffled with his things by the countertop, your senses heightened by the silence in the room. As he approached, the shower curtain shifted slightly, letting in a sliver of cool air that made you shiver again, but this time not entirely from the cold.

Wordlessly, you stepped forward, making room for him under the stream of water, and you heard his deep, contented exhale as the warmth enveloped him. You felt a shy smile tug at your lips, though you didn’t dare turn around. The thought of exposing yourself fully to him was daunting, even though you had never felt safer with anyone else.

Reaching up, you grabbed the bottle of vanilla shampoo, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggled to maintain your composure. But before you could open the bottle, you felt Danny’s warmth behind you, not close enough to touch, but enough for you to feel his steady, comforting force and hot, heavy breath by your ear. He reached over your shoulder, his hand brushing yours as he gently took the bottle from you. The touch was brief, but electric, sending a ripple of warmth through your chest.

"Let me," he offered, his breath tickling the skin beside your ear. The shampoo bottle clicked open, the scent of vanilla filling the air as Danny lathered up the shampoo by rubbing it between his large hands.

You stood still, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands moved to your head, slowly threading into your locks and pressing to your scalp. His fingers were strong but somehow gentle as ever, working the shampoo into your scalp in slow, deliberate motions, in a way that made your knees weak. You let out a whispered groan, the sound escaping before you could stop it as your body relaxed under his touch.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as he continued to wash your hair. His fingers traced soothing patterns against your scalp, moving with such care that you felt your chest ache with emotion. This wasn’t just an act of kindness. It was love. Pure, unspoken, and unconditional.

This was no longer just about getting clean either, you realised; this was something else entirely. The both of you, stood there, completely exposed, completely vulnerable, and yet there was no awkwardness and no sense of pressure or expectation. It wasn’t sexual, but it wasn’t entirely platonic either. It was something deeper, something built on years of quiet affection, of love that had been waiting patiently for the right moment to reveal itself.

He soon rinsed his hands under the water, and touched your shoulder gently as he pulled you back under the stream. He aided with washing the shampoo out of your hair with his hands, running through your scalp and squeezing at your hair as the soapy suds travelled down your hair and down to his feet. 

You had completely forgotten about Otis, you realised, as Danny reached up to grab the bottle of conditioner, doing the same as before but only raking the product through the ends of your hair. 

Your breathing was heavy, and you suddenly felt the urge to cry again, but not out of sadness this time. You turned around to face him, feeling no insecurity over the exposure of your bare body when his burning gaze remained on your face. 

“Danny…” you started, frowning at the overwhelming feeling of your new realisation. Your face told him everything he needed to know, eyebrows pinched in desperation, and tears brimming at your eyes.

To your lack of knowledge, Danny had always felt a way for you that he shouldn’t have, loving you silently in the shadows under platonic guise. After years of yearning, only now did he see that you could finally feel it too. Be it only an inkling of affection, it was enough to make his heart skip.

He reached up and cupped your cheek, “I know, sweet girl.” He nodded, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek lovingly, and you leaned into his touch. When he let go, you dropped your head, hanging it low between your bodies, your eyes closed in exhaustion. 

Danny stepped forward slowly, his feet splashing against the pool of water at your feet, and he engulfed you in the embrace of his long arms. Your head fell into the spot between his arm and chest, and that same arm came up to cradle your head. You could feel his other bare arm on your back, your breasts pressed against his chest and you flushed at the proximity. 

You desperately tried to hold him too, arms wrapped around his abdomen and folded up to hook your hands over his shoulders. You didn't notice the tears that flowed from your eyes, as they became one with the water that flowed between you both. 

“Danny,” you whispered. He nuzzled into your hair, a comforting gesture that made your heart race. 

“Hmm?” he replied softly, encouraging you to continue. The moment hung heavy in the air, filled with unspoken feelings. 

The feeling was so overwhelming, that you realised you could no longer pretend to be just friends, as the desire to love him loudly completely consumed you. 

Finally, you spoke, your confession bursting forth like a long held secret, “I think I love you.” The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, a rush of emotion that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. 

You felt his stomach tighten at your words, and he pulled back slightly to gaze down at you. You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes to see them pleading in wonder. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For so long, he had admired the beauty of your soul in silence, waited in suppressed agony, fearing that revealing his feelings would push you away. Your company was always enough for him to keep his feelings hidden, as just being near you to hear your laughter, your mind and your soul, had been more than enough. 

But now, you were uttering the words he had dreamt of telling you for what felt like his whole life. 

“Always,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. His sincerity washed over you like a warm embrace. He tucked your wet hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin gently. “I always have.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, searching his for confirmation. “What?” you managed to ask, your voice breaking. Instead of answering, Danny leaned down, closing the distance between you, and held his face close to yours. He lingered for a moment, as if giving you time to pull away, before he brought his lips to yours in a gentle caress.

His lips were soft and slow against yours, hesitant and testing at the new sensation. Neither of you could believe what was happening, and you marvelled at the intimacy of the moment, the tenderness. Never would you have thought this would be how you ended up, and now that it was happening, there was no going back. 

Danny's hands rested hesitantly beside you, ghosting your skin as he resisted the urge to touch you, as he was painfully aware of your state of undress and didn't want to cross any boundaries. You took them into your own hands, and pulled them to rest on the sides of your waist. He gripped the skin softly at the sensation. 

Your mouths explored each other, and you reached your hands up to tangle in his hair as you revelled in the new feeling. It felt as if you had searched every corner of Danny, as your years of friendship had taught you things about him even his family didn't know, yet this was unexplored territory. 

Danny pulled away with a deep inhale, and he took in the sight of your flushed face, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. A small smile crept onto his face at his realisation of what had just happened. 

“You’re so beautiful, d’ you know that?” he whispered, hand gliding up and down the curve of your waist. You looked down shyly, at both the compliment and your own understanding of what had just happened.

“You are too,” you mumbled quietly, a blush tinting your cheeks. You could no longer look at Danny without your heart exploding, and when he smiled a bit wider at your words, you turned back around, reaching for the body wash and fiddling with the cap. 

Danny was more hesitant to offer helping you clean your body than he was your hair, ever considerate of your boundaries. You had both taken huge steps in mere minutes, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel rushed. 

You of course knew this, and decided that your bold streak hadn’t ended yet. “Would you… help me with this one too?” you asked quietly, turning to look up at Danny through your lashes.

“Anything,” he answered with a nod, taking the bottle from your hands gently and pouring the soapy substance over his hands. You could tell he was still hesitant, the act of touching you was clearly daunting for him, and you tried your best to show him you were okay. You nodded at him to go ahead, and he gingerly reached his hands to your shoulders, massaging the product over them, pulling your arms out horizontally so that he could lather it across them too. 

Avoiding the obvious, his hands dragged back up your arms and to your back. You turned for him, letting his strong fingers knead into your muscles, making you hum in approval, head dropping forward at the feeling. He tucked your hair over your right shoulder to move it out of his way. His hands travelled over the expanse of your back, fingers dipping into your dimples of venus, but not treading any further before he pulled them back up, running long stripes either side of your spine.

His hands travelled around your waist then, and you turned again for him as the warmth of his hands spread over your stomach, sides and ribs, hesitating just below your breasts. 

Your stomach flipped as you became aware now that his gaze was not holding its respectful attachment to your face, and was now all over your chest, trying to touch you anywhere but there. 

You bit your cheek, and slowly reached up to take his hand that was settled on your ribs into yours. His eyes zoned in on your own as you dragged his hand up your body and rested it on your breast. 

“It’s okay,” you told him. To say that these moments were not entirely sexual anymore would be untrue. And you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t caught glimpses of his situation down below, despite your efforts to keep your gaze above his waist.

Breath heavy, and feeling like he would pass out any moment, Danny tenderly ran his hands over your breasts, rounding at the swell and dipping in the valley as he lathered them in the soap. He wasn't hasty to move on, but he didn’t linger for too long, letting you know that he did not expect anything sexual from you. As he washed your upper half, you scrubbed at your bottom, running the soap in your hands over your legs and behind, to speed up the process. 

Danny pulled you back under the stream, and quickly rejected your offer to wash him the same. 

“You’re exhausted, and I’m worried if you spend another minute in the steam you’ll pass out,” he said with a teasing smile, half joking. You frowned at his words. 

“I’m not exhausted, I can do it.”

“Honey…” he started, lifting your arm and showcasing your hands which were trembling without support.

You huffed at his consideration. “Okay, fine… if you’re sure.”

He smiled at you, his hand on your hip squeezing gently, “I am.” He dipped down and gave you a quick peck on the lips, the act startling you, as you had almost forgotten the events that just occurred between the two of you. As if you weren't just guiding his hand to your breasts. As if he weren’t standing before you in those moments, with an obviously painful erection.

You gave him one last smile before you pulled the shower curtain open and stepped out. The cold slapped you in the face and you were quick to shut the curtain behind you to keep Danny warm. Picking up your towel and wrapping it around your body was a beautiful reprieve from the biting cold, and when you looked out of the fogged glass of the bathroom window, you could tell that the rain outside was just as relentless as it was before. 

You listened to foamy soap hit the floor as Danny washed through his own hair while you collected your hairbrush and other essentials, before you silently slipped out of the bathroom door, not bothering to close it all the way behind you. 

Your mood now soaring at heights unimaginable, you padded to your bedroom, a small smile on your face as you thought back on the intimacy of the moments you had just shared. When you stepped into your bedroom though, you were reminded of the mess that was your life. 

Your bed was soaked, sheets and pillows bore big wet patches and you were sure the moisture had soaked through to your mattress too. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, before deciding what to do. You shuffled through your pyjama drawers and picked out some long plaid pants along with a white singlet and a hoodie. You changed quickly, not wanting the warmth of your body to succumb to the cold again, and once you were changed, you walked back out of your room and into the living room, where you set up camp on the couch. 

Meanwhile, Danny was running his hands through his wet locks, the water cascading down his face as he replayed those moments over and over again in his mind. He had waited for you for so long. Loved you in silence for so long. And it was all worth it. 

Once he left the shower he wrapped the last towel around his waist, squeezing the wetness out of his hair and leaving it otherwise to air dry. 

As he left the bathroom, he could hear you humming softly in the living room, and he passed his room to see you again. Danny watched in admiration at you, dressed comfortably while you typed and scrolled on your phone, cross legged on the couch, Your wet hair hung down your back, but your sweater protected you from the cold this time. 

He frowned when he saw the couch, set up in a way he could only assume was your attempt to sleep on it. 

The sound of his arrival got your attention, “Hey, I’m ordering Thai delivery,” you said, eyes still trained on your phone as you typed in your card details.

Danny smiled warmly at you, “Great, thanks… um, what’s all this?” he asked, hands gesturing to the makeshift bed you had set up on the couch. Although just seeing him completely naked, and having that naked body pressed against your own, you stifled at the sight of him with only a towel around his waist.

You cleared your throat and averted your gaze, “Oh, my bed is really wet from… you know, lying on it earlier.”

He shook his head, “No, you aren’t sleeping on the couch. I have a double, you can sleep with me.” He immediately blushed at the alternate innuendo his words held, “Not like sleep together, just, you know, go to sleep,” he tripped over his words anxiously, making you force back a smile. 

“Are you sure? I’m fine to—” 

“Yes I’m sure. One hundred percent,” he assured quickly before he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, “I mean, we did just shower together.”

Now it was your turn to blush, and you looked back to your phone to hide your face, agreeing quietly. 

Danny retreated to his room to get into his pyjamas, and quickly tidied the space up, feeling self conscious at the state his room was in, shoving his clothes into his drawers haphazardly, and others he took to the laundry basket. Once he was satisfied, he returned to the living room. 

He sat down beside you, his thigh brushing yours and you suddenly became insecure of where you both stood. Usually, it would be normal to sit so close together, laughing and chatting through movies, but now, things were different. You didn't want to come across as pushy and rushed, but similarly didn't want to do the opposite, act cold or distant after the moments you had shared. 

If Danny was having the same fears, he didn’t let it show, as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you closer to him while he leaned over to reach for the TV remote with a grunt. 

“Watcha wanna watch?” 

You and Danny settled on the first movie you could, only pausing to get your takeout delivery from the door, before you returned to your position, which seemed to be steadily moving closer to Danny with each reposition or shuffle. 

By the time the film was over and your bellies were full, you were exhausted. You had been emotionally wrecked throughout the day, ranging from betrayal and heartbreak, to renewal and love. 

Danny steadied you by your elbow as you stood, helping you gather your things to take to his room. You were too sleepy to feel nervous. 

“Which side do you sleep on?” you asked as you stood by the doorway. 

Danny scratched the back of his head, “Usually the right, but I don't mind. I move around a lot when I sleep anyway.” Truth be told, Danny rathered that you slept on his side, as he knew that his pillow would smell like you by morning.

It apparently didn't matter though, as when you slipped under the covers of the left side of the bed beside him, his senses were overwhelmed with you. Your smell, your energy and your heat. It also wasn’t long before the two of you closed the distance between you, arms and legs tangled in your attempts to be impossibly closer to one another, your fronts pressed together just like the moments you shared in the shower. 

It all felt so normal. You attributed it to being friends for your whole lives, giving you the ability to close emotional distance without second thought, but it was still startling nonetheless. 

“Thanks again for letting me sleep here, it’s definitely more comfortable than the couch,” you whispered, and he reached behind him to turn off the bedside lamp.

Now cloaked in darkness, you relied only on your hearing to navigate Danny beside you. The rain was still pouring outside the window, and in a way, it felt fitting as a reminder of your day. While a disastrous storm brewed outside, you were safe and warm with Danny at home. 

“Maybe… maybe we could make it a regular thing?” Danny asked nervously. “You know, since you love me and all that,” he teased, trying to ease the tension of his suggestion. You groaned in embarrassment and buried your head into his chest, hearing his chuckles vibrate in his chest. 

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You have no idea how happy I am to have you with me like this.”

You sighed deeply, and decided it was your turn to tease. “And just how long have you felt this way for me, hm?” 

Danny chuckled dryly but swallowed, hesitating to tell you in case it made things weird. He didn’t want you to feel that his friendship had ever been false, or as a ruse to gain your attention in that way. 

His nose brushed against your forehead, “I’ve known for sure since eighth grade.” His statement was heavy, yet honest, and it hung in the air wearily as he waited for you to respond. 

You pulled your head away from him, “Eighth grade?! Danny… what— why didn’t you say anything?”

He sighed, “I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” 

You understood, but wished he had told you sooner, as though you hadn’t ever realised it was quite love, you knew that you never would have turned away the idea of being with Danny like that. 

“We wasted so much time,” you sighed. 

“What? You mean you felt the same?” he asked, shock lacing his words as his hand tightened around your frame. 

You nodded, “You’ve always treated me better than any boy I ever went out with. I just didn't think that— I didn't think that this was a possibility. I thought you were too good for that. Too—”

“Too good for what?” 

“You know, like with your band and stuff. I don't know, I guess I thought you had more important people to see than me. I didn’t ever think you would— could actually see me like that,” you tried to explain. 

Danny groaned, “Oh God. I’m never gonna live this down.”

Your brow creased in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Sammy knew I liked you before I even did, used to tease me about it all the time. The three of them have watched me act like an idiot around you for years. I can't believe you thought that I was ‘too cool’ for you.” He chuckled, though regret laced the dry laugh. 

You felt mild embarrassment at the thought that the boys, who you’d become close with the years that you knew Danny, were keeping the secret from you that would ultimately change your life indefinitely. 

He whispered your name, pulling you from your thoughts, “I have always loved you. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling new and foreign on your lips, yet somehow just right. You clutched his shirt in your hands and shuffled incredibly closer to him. He smelt like Danny, the comfort you had grown to turn to after many years of safekeeping your heart. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” You felt him kiss the top of your head, followed by the feeling of his nose nuzzling into your hair and sighing deeply. 

“Goodnight Danny.”

As you welcomed the blankets of exhaustion over your spent body, Danny began to hum a familiar tune, his voice sounding distant in your haze of sleep. Soon, the song became unmistakably recognisable. 

Because, by The Beatles. Your favourite song.

𓅪

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Part 2

[jamesmcalover]

cinematic - pt 2

Fred Hechinger x afab!reader

Warnings: fluff, SO ROMANTIC, hinting at smut (didn't feel like writing actual smut sorry xx)

Summary: reader works at the cinema and a really cute blonde man walks in one day

part 1

2.5k words - not proofread!

I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this, please forgive me :( I hope you like it!! <3

The train ride home was quiet, but my mind was anything but. I stared out the window, watching the blurred city lights streak past, replaying the events of the night like a movie reel I didn’t want to end.

Fred Hechinger.

His name sounded surreal in my head now, almost like a punchline to a joke I hadn’t been in on. And yet, there he was, smiling at me like I was someone worth noticing. Not just a cinema employee stuck selling popcorn to unfriendly customers.

The crumpled receipt sat in my lap, his number staring back at me in messy scrawl. I’d unfolded it twice already, smoothing out the creases with my thumb as if memorizing it would make it feel more real.

Would he really want to see me again? The thought made my stomach flip. Actors didn’t meet random strangers in bars and ask for second dates. Not in real life.

But then again, Fred didn’t feel like every other actor plastered on movie posters. He was normal. Warm. Real in a way I hadn’t expected.

Still, the doubt crept in. What if this was just some fleeting moment for him? A funny story to tell on some late-night talk show one day? I tried to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly, casting shadows over my excitement.

The train screeched to a halt, and I snapped out of my thoughts, gathering my bag as I stepped onto the platform. The cool air hit my face, and I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head.

When I finally made it home, I dropped my things on the kitchen counter and stared at my phone. He’d asked me to text him when I got back, but now that the moment was here, my fingers hovered uncertainly over the screen. What if I was overthinking it? What if he was expecting me to?

I grabbed the receipt again, reading the number for what had to be the fifth time. This is ridiculous, I thought, shaking my head at myself. He wanted me to text.

Finally, I typed out a message, simple and casual, though my heart was racing like I was about to step on stage for the first time.

Hey, it’s Y/N. I just got home. Thanks again for tonight. It was fun :)

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

The reply came faster than I expected.

I’m glad you had fun. I really meant it when I said I want to see you again.

I read the message twice, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.

A week later, I found myself standing in front of my closet, chewing my bottom lip as I debated the life-altering question of what to wear. This was not supposed to feel so stressful.

Fred had texted me every day since our first meeting. Little conversations that felt easy and effortless, like I’d known him for years instead of days. He was funny, thoughtful, and occasionally self-deprecating in a way that made him even more endearing. But tonight was different.

Tonight wasn’t just texting. Tonight, I’d agreed to meet him again, this time for dinner.

I tugged out a black sweater, then frowned and shoved it back. Too plain. A dress? No, too much. I groaned, flopping onto my bed, surrounded by a graveyard of rejected outfits.

My phone buzzed beside me, and I grabbed it instinctively, already knowing who it would be.

I hope you’re not stressing too much about tonight. Whatever you wear, you’ll look great. I promise.

I blinked at the screen, then let out a laugh. How does he always know?

Are you psychic, or do you just assume I’m a chronic overthinker?

A little bit of both. ;) See you soon.

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. Maybe he was right. I could spend hours agonizing over details, or I could just… let it happen.

Thirty minutes later, I was stepping out of my apartment, the cool night air nipping at my skin as I hailed a cab.

When I arrived at the restaurant, Fred was already waiting outside, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. He spotted me instantly, his face lighting up in a way that made my chest tighten.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hi,” I replied, suddenly hyperaware of the way my pulse quickened.

He held the door open for me, and we stepped inside, the buzz of conversation and soft clinking of glasses filling the air.

By the time our drinks arrived, I realized that Fred wasn’t just easy to talk to. He had a way of making me forget everything else. He asked questions about me – genuine ones, not the superficial kind – and listened like he actually cared about the answers. He told stories about awkward auditions and the chaos of filming, peppered with self-aware humor that had me laughing until my sides ached. I found myself laughing more than I had in weeks, my usual self-consciousness melting away under his easy charm.

At one point, Fred tilted his head and studied me, his expression softer than I’d seen before. “You’re different than I expected.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Different how?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, smiling faintly. “I guess I thought you’d be a little more guarded. But you’re… real.”

The sincerity in his voice left me momentarily speechless. My chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if I was imagining things.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Fred’s grin returned, and he leaned back in his chair. “Glad to hear it. So… what do you say we keep this going?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Keep it going?”

“I mean, if you’re not sick of me yet…” He hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy. “I could show you my place. It’s nothing fancy, but I’ve got some decent coffee. Or tea, if that’s your thing.”

It was such a simple offer, but something about the way he said it made my pulse quicken.

“Sure,” I said, surprising even myself. “I’d like that.”

Fred’s apartment was cozy in a way that felt authentic, like him. The small living room was scattered with personal touches; a guitar leaning against the wall, a stack of dog-eared scripts on the coffee table, and a framed photo of him with what looked like an older woman, maybe his mother.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he led me inside. “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, taking in the space. “It feels lived in. In a good way.”

He smiled, gesturing toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, if you’ve got it.”

Fred disappeared into the kitchen, and I sank into the plush cushions, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the throw pillow. There was something disarming about being here, surrounded by the pieces of his life. It felt intimate in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

When he returned, he handed me a steaming mug and sat beside me, close enough that our knees brushed.

“So,” he said, his tone playful, “what’s the verdict? Am I as terrible a host as you imagined?”

I smirked, taking a sip of the tea. “Not terrible. But you could’ve vacuumed or something.”

Fred laughed, shaking his head. “Harsh. Next time, I’ll roll out the red carpet.”

For a moment, the room fell quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that felt full, like words weren’t necessary.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer, “I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?”

“Invite people over. At least, not like this.” His eyes met mine, searching. “It’s just… different with you. Like I don’t have to try so hard.”

The vulnerability in his words took me by surprise, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead, I reached out, my fingers brushing his. It was a small gesture, but it seemed to mean everything in that moment.

Fred’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he turned his hand over, his fingers tangling with mine.

“Do you ever think,” he murmured, “that maybe some people just… get each other? Like right away?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Maybe.”

I didn’t know if it was the tea warming me from the inside or the way Fred’s hand felt in mine, steady and grounding. The weight of the moment pressed gently, making the air feel heavier, like it carried more meaning than I was ready to put into words.

“Tell me something,” Fred said, his voice low, like he didn’t want to break whatever spell we were under. “What’s something about you that no one knows?”

I hesitated, looking down at our joined hands. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, an absentminded movement that made my chest feel tight.

“That’s a big question,” I murmured, trying to smile.

“I’ve got time,” he said, leaning back a little, still watching me like he actually cared about the answer.

I thought for a moment, the words catching in my throat before I finally let them out. “Sometimes… I think I’m more afraid of being understood than being misunderstood.”

Fred’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. His hand stayed where it was, grounding me in a way that made the confession feel a little less terrifying.

“When people misunderstand you,” I continued, “it’s like a shield. You can hide behind it, tell yourself they just don’t get it. But if someone really sees you – like really sees you – there’s nowhere to hide. That’s what scares me.”

Fred was quiet for a moment, his gaze never leaving mine. When he spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “I’ve never thought about it this way. But I think I get it.”

His words hung between us, and I could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he held back. Instead, he shifted closer, his knee pressing into mine more firmly now.

“You don’t have to be scared with me,” he said finally. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever really get you, but… I want to try. If you let me.”

The honesty in his words made my breath catch. I didn’t know how to respond—at least, not with words. Instead, I leaned forward, closing the small gap between us. His breath hitched as I pressed my forehead against his, the tea mug in my hand forgotten on the coffee table.

“I think you already do,” I whispered.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His fingers tightened around mine just slightly, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. Then, slowly, Fred tilted his head, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most hesitant kiss.

It wasn’t rushed or hungry. It was tender, careful—like he was giving me the space to pull away if I needed to. But I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned into him, letting the moment wrap around us like a cocoon.

When we finally pulled apart, Fred’s eyes searched mine, his expression open and unguarded.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled, my heart fluttering somewhere between nerves and something sweeter. “Yeah,” I whispered. “That was okay.”

His thumb brushed gently over my hand again, slower now, lingering. Neither of us said anything for a moment. The quiet was different this time. Charged, almost heavy with possibility.

Fred leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking to my lips and then back to my eyes. “I was gonna ask if you wanted another cup of tea,” he said, voice low and warm. “But that feels kind of ridiculous now.”

I laughed under my breath, not letting go of his hand. “Depends on what kind of tea.”

“Oh,” he said, pretending to think. “The ‘stay a little longer’ kind, maybe.”

My pulse fluttered again, this time in my throat. I didn’t look away.

“I could be convinced,” I murmured.

Fred’s smile tugged a little wider, less amused now, more certain. His gaze lingered, steady and searching, as if waiting for me to take it back. I didn’t.

He stood, his hand never leaving mine, and I followed his lead, pulse drumming steadily beneath my skin.

The apartment felt smaller as we walked. The hallway dim and quiet, interrupted only by the soft brush of our steps and the weight of everything unspoken between us.

At his bedroom door, he paused, turning to face me again. There was no smirk now, no clever line. Just a glance that asked a question without words.

I answered with a nod, barely more than a breath.

Inside, the room was just like the rest of his place. Lived-in. Comfortable. Real. The sheets on the bed slightly rumpled, a hoodie draped over the back of a chair. I didn’t have time to overthink it, didn’t want to.

Fred let go of my hand just long enough to turn toward me. His other hand found my waist, careful, like he was still giving me space to pull away.

I didn’t.

Instead, I reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, and leaned in. This time without hesitation. The kiss was deeper now, slower, with a kind of patience that only made the heat coil tighter beneath my skin.

His hands slid up my sides, thumbs grazing over fabric like he was learning it by touch alone. And when we broke apart, just for a moment, his forehead rested against mine, his breath unsteady.

“Still okay?” he asked softly.

I didn’t answer right away, just smiled, letting my hands find the hem of his shirt.

“Still very okay.”

Fred’s breath caught, and I felt it more than I heard it. My fingers, slow and uncertain at first, slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. His skin was warm under my touch, and I let my fingertips graze lightly across his stomach, just enough to make him shiver.

He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, his forehead resting gently against mine, as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I laughed, quiet and breathless. “I thought actors were supposed to be dramatic.”

“Only when it counts,” he whispered.

His lips found mine again, deeper this time. Still unhurried, but with something heavier behind it. A quiet hunger, restrained only by mutual reverence. I felt his hand slide along my thigh, slow and careful, as if asking without words.

I answered by tugging gently at his shirt, my eyes meeting his with quiet certainty.

Neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to.

A moment later, Fred shifted, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall somewhere beside the bed. I traced the line of his collarbone with the back of my hand, and he leaned into the touch like he’d been waiting for it.

The kiss deepened, breath mingling with breath, until everything else, every doubt, every second-guess, melted into the hush between us. The kind of hush that doesn’t need to be filled.

Only felt.