#have you ever been so low that there was no light

[chaotic-birds]

1-800-red-hoods-gas-station-attendant-service

Your boyfriend's not fond of you pumping your own gas at night, so he insists you don't do it alone.

🩹 G/AUs: fluff, est. relt. 🩹 TW: reader (f) is called beautiful, pretty, princess, baby, doll (i love nicknames okay leave me alone 😭), mentions of blood and fighting 🩹 WC: 1.5k 🩹 A/N: Inspired by this reel (sfw). Just a little fun and easy read 💗 enjoy!

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

masterlist

Ever since Jason caught a group of people trying to rob someone at the gas station a week ago, he’s insisted you not get gas alone—especially at night.

Your arguments fall on deaf ears. He’s put his foot down and covered it in cement. There’s nothing you can say to make Jason change his mind.

“Hey, beau”—grunts—”tiful. Need somethin’?” Jason asks after the fourth ring.

You can faintly hear the sound of fists hitting skin in the background.

“You busy, handsome?” you wonder, eyes glancing at the low fuel light glaring at you. You already know his answer and the real answer before he speaks.

“Nope,” he answers followed by more grunting. “You home from your ladies' night?”

Upon seeing a gas station in the distance, you signal to take the highway's exit ramp.

“Not yet. I called because I’m low on gas and need to get some to make it home. I figured calling you while I pumped—”

“Where are you?” he asks instead, voice slightly strained.

“Near upper west side.”

“Come to the diamond district, and I’ll meet you there.”

You pull into an empty pump station.

“I’m already at a gas station, Jay. Just—”

“It’s not safe.”

“You’re tracking my location and you can hear—”

“It’s not safe to use your phone while getting gas too,” he continues to interrupt.

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat, unable to stop your eyes from checking your locks. Although you’ve always been weary of pumping gas at night, you try not to be too paranoid. You hate being on edge all the time.

“Please, doll?” he pleads, breathing heavier.

There are curses in the background that don’t sound like Jason. His attackers must not like him much.

“Alright, but hurry. My light’s on,” you say. You sit straighter and shift gears to leave.

“I’m on my way now. Hey, Red Ro—”

The line cuts off, but you figure Jason’s recruiting Tim to take care of his loose ends. You feel bad for taking Jason away from his work, but you don’t want him to be upset with you for getting gas by yourself. He’s not fun when he’s grumpy.

Jason’s sitting comfortably on his motorcycle when you turn into the station.

When he sees your car, he stands and waves. You know there’s a grin behind his helmet.

The gas station is empty except for the convenience store worker. He looks at the vigilante suspiciously from inside.

You park at the station he’s at, turn off the car, and pull the lever that opens the gas tank. You climb out and smile at him, holding your card in one hand.

“Hi there, cutie. You come here often?” you tease.

He chuckles and swiftly pays for the gas before you can. You give him a disapproving look that he ignores.

“Only for you, princess,” he replies.

You put your card away as he takes the pump and untwists the tank’s cap.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling guilty again. You figured he’d come and watch the area, not actually pump your gas for you.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You can sit back down and jus’ look pretty for me, baby.”

“That makes me sound like a spoiled brat,” you huff but do as you’re told, keeping the door open so you can converse.

Jason leans against your car as he fills your tank.

“Well, you’re only half right. You are spoiled, but that’s the way I like it.”

You shake your head at his reply, but there’s a smile on your face. Truthfully, it’s a little nice to not have to worry about anything—to just let Jason care for you.

Your eyes scan his tall form, taking in his armored-covered body and shiny helmet. You notice a few dark spots on his gloves and clothes that you figure are blood.

“It’s a little funny seeing the Red Hood pump my gas,” you quip as you grin at him.

“What can I say? I’m here to help the citizens of Gotham in any way,” he jokes.

“You have a busy night?” you ask, recalling the phone call from earlier.

“Nothin’ too extreme,” he replies.

When your tank is full, he returns the pump and twists the cap back on.

He moves in front of you, resting one hand on the car’s top while he leans down.

“If it weren’t for that goober watching us like a hawk, I’d give you a kiss,” he says.

“Only a kiss? I’d pull you in the back seat and have some fun,” you say with a flirty smile.

He laughs and lowers his head more. You’re so tempted to kiss him.

“We’ll have fun at home,” he says.

“You’re coming back with me?” you ask, eyes opening wider with hope.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, princess. I still need to go help Tim. I’ll be back soon though.”

“Define soon,” you reply with a slight pout.

Jason drops in a squat so he can take your hands; the act is hidden by your door.

“An hour or two?” he says. “But don’t wait up. It could be longer.”

You nod solemnly.

Jason squeezes your hands, thumbs rubbing your skin tenderly.

“Text me when you get home, ‘kay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you say.

Jason releases your hands to rub your thighs.

“Thank you for calling me,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want my boyfriend upset with me,” you huff halfheartedly.

Jason squeezes your legs.

“Just want ya safe, doll.”

“I know,” you sigh and place your hands over his.

“I better get going,” he says and reluctantly begins to pull away.

You grab his hands to hold him close.

“Ya know, you might as well just kiss me. I think the worker knows you’re not just here to pump a random Gothamite’s gas.”

Jason chuckles and takes a peek at the window. The worker still looks on, but now with a confused face. When he notices Jason staring, he averts his gaze. Though, Jason knows it won’t last long.

“Fine,” he relents and leans down.

You grin, reaching out to cup his helmet as you kiss the cool material. Of course, it’s not the same as feeling his lips on yours, but the sentiment is felt.

“Love you,” you murmur as you pull away and drop your hands.

Jason sighs longingly. “Love you too, beautiful. See you at home.”

“See you,” you reply.

Jason ends up following you for a while for extra precaution before heading back to his patrol shift. He doesn’t come home for another three hours.

When he does, you’re on the brink of sleep. Still, you turn in his arms so you can snuggle your face against his chest.

“Missed you,” you mumble.

His chest vibrates as he laughs. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“And what ‘bout it, Todd?” you huff.

He pulls you even closer and rests his head against yours. His body feels so nice. You wish you could stay in his arms for days.

“Nothin’, doll. I missed ya too,” he says in a deep, tired voice.

“Hmph! Thought so,” you reply and carefully lift your head to give him a triumphant smile.

Jason releases an amused puff of air.

“Get some sleep, silly,” he says.

“Kiss first,” you demand, puckering your lips dramatically.

Jason grins and angles his face to give you a tender smooch.

Your lips spread in a grin upon feeling him directly.

When he goes to pull away, you whine in protest and chase after him. You capture his mouth again before he can get too far.

Jason laughs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands trail up your sides to cup your face. His warmth spreads from your cheeks to your heart.

There’s a dopey, sleepy smile on your face when you pull away.

“God, I love you,” Jason says with the utmost sincerity that squeezes your heart.

“Not as much as I love you,” you sing-song, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles and moves his hands back to your sides. He slides them under your shirt to feel you directly.

Instead of arguing, you lean down to kiss him once more.

“You’re comfy,” you mumble.

He can’t stop the happiness that shows on his face at your words. He gently eases you down by pressing lightly on your upper back and says, “Good. I like you like this.” 

He adjusts his head against his pillow and closes his eyes, arms holding your body to his like a teddy bear.

“I like being here,” you reply and lay your head on his chest. You love hearing the rhythm of his heart.

You feel him give your head a kiss before he gets settled. It’s not long before his breathing gets steadier, and his arms lax slightly around your body. As you join him in dreamland, you realize you’ll never feel safer than in his arms. 

A/N: I have this for my other blog, so I wanted to share it here too: For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

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

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER SIX ━━ Shattered Glass

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 3.8K

☆ ━ warnings: mentions of conversion therapy

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: finally bro

DANI STANDS in the dimly lit darkroom, watching the chemicals slowly bring her latest batch of photos to life. The soft red glow of the safelights fill the room, casting long shadows across the black-and-white prints hanging on the drying line. The hum of the machines and the faint smell of chemicals are oddly calming, giving her a momentary escape from the chaotic mess her life has become. She likes it here. The darkroom is one of the few places that still feels like her own—maybe her safe space.

She adjusts the print in the developer tray, her hands moving automatically as her mind wanders. It’s hard not to think about the other night, about Paige’s basket. The note stays with her, a flicker of warmth that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She wishes Paige hadn’t done it. She wishes she could’ve just stewed in her misery, in the mess she’s made. It would be easier that way.

Now, Dani can’t stop thinking about it. Paige is always there, lurking at the edges of her thoughts, no matter how much Dani tries to push her away.

It’s frustrating and comforting at the same time.

The door to the darkroom swings open, flooding the room with harsh light from the hallway. Dani blinks against it, silently cursing as Serena Corren struts in. The blonde cheerleader makes no effort to close the door softly, the bang of it slamming shut making Dani wince. Serena isn’t supposed to be here, at least not right now, but here she is anyway, crashing into Dani’s quiet space like she always seems to do.

“Hey, Dani.” Serena drops her yearbook materials on the counter with a loud thunk, her sharp voice cutting through the low hum of the room.

“Hey,” Dani mutters, her eyes fixed on the developing photo, hoping Serena will take the hint and keep her distance. But that isn’t how Serena works. She never really does subtle.

Serena leans over, peering at the picture. “You’re still working on that football game? Don’t you have, like, a thousand of those already?”

Dani shrugs, her jaw tight. “I’m trying to be thorough.”

Serena scoffs. “No, I think you’re trying to be alone in here, avoiding everyone.” She straightens, fixing Dani with a pointed look pursing her lips into a line. “You’ve been weird lately, you know that?”

Dani’s shoulders tense. She knows where this is going and she doesn’t want to deal with it. “I’m fine, Serena.”

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde drawls, pulling up a stool and plopping down on it without asking. “That’s why Beau’s been bitching to everyone about you. Says you’ve been acting all ‘distant.’”

Dani doesn’t say anything, keeping her eyes locked on her work. Beau. Of course, it’s about Beau. Everything is always about him—her boyfriend, her obligation. The person she’s supposed to care about. Except she doesn’t. Not really.

Serena crosses her arms, eyeing Dani with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “You’re lucky, you know that? Beau’s, like, the hottest guy in school, and you’ve been treating him like shit recently. So, spill, and tell me what your deal is.”

Dani’s grip tightens on the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white. “I’ve just been dealing with stuff,” she mumbles.

“Right, ‘stuff.’” Serena’s tone drips with sarcasm, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve got everyone worried, Dani. Not just Beau—though, let’s be real, he’s the only one actually trying. The rest of us? We don’t know why you even bother hanging out anymore if you’re gonna be so… ugh.”

Dani’s stomach twists, but she keeps her mouth shut. Of course, Beau’s trying. That’s the narrative. That’s always the narrative. But neither him or Serena or any of their other friends are ever actually trying to help. The blonde isn’t even asking if Dani was okay. She’s here to make a point, to make sure Dani knows she’s out of line for daring to withdraw from the group.

Serena’s lips curl in a half-smile, her eyes sharp. “Look, I get it. Maybe you’re going through something or whatever, but seriously? You’re not the only one with problems, Dani. Beau’s been putting up with a lot from you.”

Dani lets out a short, bitter laugh before she can stop herself. “Putting up with me? Are you serious?”

Serena’s smile falters for a second before she narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I am. You’ve been flaking on him for weeks, acting all moody, and he’s still there. Most guys wouldn’t stick around if their girlfriend was being such a—” Serena throws her hands up in the air, searching for a word, “—headcase!”

Dani’s vision blurs with irritation, but she swallows it down. It isn’t worth it, arguing with Serena. Sure, the girl was nice and welcoming at first, but it didn’t take Dani much time to realize just how fake Sersna can be. By now, Dani can hardly stand her, but she’s inevitable—Serena’s a part of Beau’s circle, part of this whole sick, suffocating dynamic Dani’s been shoved into. At this point, she has to hang out with them, even though Serena and the others have no idea what’s really going on, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. They’d probably just mock her even more.

She can’t explain why she’s acting “weird.” She can’t explain why the thought of being around Beau makes her feel like her skin is crawling. She can’t explain how much she hates who she’s become since she got back from camp. She can’t explain that the more she’s sucked into this straight girl, quarterback’s girlfriend, Catholic princess persona, the more she feels the girl underneath it slipping away, caught in between two worlds that don’t meet.

Serena’s still watching her, waiting for a response, her lips frowning in faux concern. “You’re lucky he hasn’t dumped you yet.”

Dani grits her teeth. Lucky. She’s not lucky; she’d be much more lucky if he dumped her. Beau’s controlling, selfish, and she knows he’s never given a damn about what she wants or how she might feel. He’s only gotten worse lately too, like a few nights ago—leaving her stranded, making her walk home alone in the dark while he drove off, doing who-knows-what.

But none of that matters, because in Serena’s world, Beau can do no wrong. In fact, Dani wouldn’t even be surprised if the two of them have fucked by now. “Maybe I don’t care if he dumps me,” the brunette mutters under her breath.

Serena snorts, “Yeah, right. Please. You’d be miserable without him, Dani. You wouldn’t have anyone left.”

That is what hits Dani hard, the words sinking into her like ice. She wants to that Serena’s wrong, but the fear is there, gnawing at her. Because who will she have without Beau, without this group she’s been forced into? She’s already lost her real friends, the ones who actually matter. Paige, Thaliah, Jalen.

“Look,” Serena continues, her voice smug, “just stop acting like this. Whatever this moody, weird thing you’ve got going on? It’s not cute. We’re all getting tired of it.”

Dani feels the anger bubbling up again, sharp and hot in her chest. She can’t do this anymore—can’t sit here and listen to Serena drone on about something that doesn’t even really fucking involve her. “I don’t care if you’re tired of it, Serena. You know what? Maybe I’m the one tired of it, tired of hanging around all of you, tired of hearing you bitching, and tired of the fact that none of you have a nice fucking bone in your body!”

Serena’s eyes flash with surprise, but she quickly covers it with a smirk. “Wow, okay. You’ve been one of ‘us’ for months now. So what the fuck does that say about you then, hmm?” She pauses, letting the words sink in, before continuing, “You’re just like the rest of us. And if you’re really gonna throw away everything just because you’re in one of your moods, then I guess I thought you were smarter than you really are.”

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her hands shaking slightly as she turns back to her photos. She doesn’t respond. She refuses. Because if she does, she isn’t sure what will come out—whether it would be anger or something worse. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Serena. She refuses to give her that satisfaction.

After a long, tense silence, Serena stands, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. “Whatever, Dani. Keep being weird if that’s what you want. Just don’t be surprised when Beau gets tired of your shit and moves on. You’re replaceable, you know.”

Dani bites the inside of her lip at the venom in Serena’s words, but she doesn’t look up. She doesn’t let herself react, no matter how badly she wants to lash out.

The door to the darkroom creaks open again as Serena leaves, slamming it shut behind her.

PAIGE HASN’T heard a single word her financial algebra teacher has said the entire class period. Her foot taps against the floor incessantly, the low thud thud thud filling her head. She’s restless—scratch that, obsessed. Her is was stuck in one place, on one person.

Dani.

Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani.

Paige has been like this since Halloween, unable to focus on anything except the basket she left on the girl’s porch, hoping it would be some kind of olive branch. She’s spent the last few days replaying every interaction in her mind, trying to decipher Dani’s walls, to figure out what exactly is going on inside her head.

For how well and how long Paige has known the brunette, she simply can’t tell. She’s tried—but she has no idea what’s swirling in her ex-best friend’s mind that prompted her to create this entire situation. But what Paige does know is that she can’t keep sitting in this classroom pretending to care about math when all she wants to do is get Dani to talk to her. Really talk to her.

She lets out a sigh, barely noticing the way the teacher glances up from her notes. Paige bites her lip, her foot tapping even faster now, her knee bouncing. She can’t take it anymore.

Shooting her hand up, Paige catches the teacher’s attention. “Ms. Greene?” she asks, her voice a little shaky.

Ms. Greene, who’s in the middle of explaining some equation Paige can’t even begin to follow, stops mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Paige?”

Paige swallows, feigning discomfort. “I don’t feel well. Can I go to the nurse?”

Ms. Greene studies her for a moment, clearly weighing how bad Paige looks. Then, she nods. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Paige quickly packs up her stuff, barely caring about leaving her things behind, and bolts out of the classroom. She isn’t going to the nurse. She has somewhere else to be—somewhere Dani would be.

She hates to admit it, but she knows Dani’s schedule like the back of her hand. It isn’t like she meant to memorize it; it just kind of happened over time. Call her a stalker—maybe she is—but she’s always paid attention to Dani, even now when they aren’t even friends anymore.

And she knows exactly where Dani is during this period: the darkroom. Paige has seen her slip into it on more than one occasion during this period. Paige has been in there herself several times, all with Dani, all last year. She’d sit on one of the stools and watch Dani work, infatuated like she always seems to be by the brunette. She misses it. She misses everything.

And she can’t stand it anymore. She has to get through to Dani. Today.

The hallways are mostly empty as Paige strides down them, her heartbeat quickening with every step. She isn’t sure what she’s planning to say, but she knows she has to say something. If she can just get Dani to open up—to explain why she’s shutting everyone out, why she’s pushed Paige away so violently—then maybe, just maybe, things can go back to how they used to be.

As Paige turns the corner, she slows her pace, watching someone step out of the darkroom. Serena Corren struts out, her face twisted in an annoyed scowl. The cheerleader’s blonde hair whips behind her as she slams the door with enough force to make Paige raise her eyebrows.  Serena’s eyes flick up as she passes the basketball player, and for a brief moment, their gazes meet. Paige can see the disdain in Serena’s eyes—she looks irritated, almost as if she’s blaming Paige for something, but neither of them say anything. The silent exchange is fleeting and Paige thinks it’s a little odd, too.

Paige reaches the door of the darkroom, her heart thudding in her chest. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t knock. She just pushes the door open. The low red light of the darkroom washes over her like a wave of unease, the smell of developing chemicals hangs in the air, and the soft hum of the machines fill the silence.

Before Paige can even step fully inside, Dani’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and biting. “God, if you’re gonna keep berating me about this—” Dani snaps, her tone dripping with irritation, clearly mistaking Paige for Serena.

But when Dani spins around, her words die on her lips. The fiery annoyance in her eyes quickly evaporates, replaced with shock. “Paige,” she breathes, like the wind has been knocked out of her. She blinks, her body stiffening. “What are you doing here?”

Paige steps further into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She swallows, her heart racing as she locks eyes with Dani. “I’m here because we need to talk,” she says steadily.

Dani’s face hardens. She turns back to her photos, ignoring Paige like she isn’t even there. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Dani mutters, flat and dismissive.

“Yes, there is,” Paige responds firmly. She refuses to let Dani shut this down again. “You know there is.”

Dani quickly turns back toward Paige, a faux smile on her face. “You��re so right, Paige, we do need to talk,” she says, her tone sickly sweet. “Thank you for the basket, I appreciated it.” And then she turns right back to the photos.

Paige clenches her fists, frustration boiling up inside her. She’s spent months tiptoeing around Dani’s moods, giving her space, hoping she’ll come around on her own. But that isn’t working. She isn’t going to stand by while Dani pushes her further away, destroying herself in the process.

“Stop it,” Paige replies, shaking her head. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, what exactly has been going on with you.”

Dani scoffs, shaking her head as she continues to work, refusing to look at Paige. “What, you’re just going to barge in here and demand I spill my guts?” she asks incredulously. “That’s not how this works, Paige.”

Paige steps closer, her voice firm but pleading. “I’m not trying to make demands. I just… I need to understand why you’ve been acting like this. Why you’ve been pushing me away. You don’t even look at me anymore, Dani. And I—” Paige’s voice cracks, and she swallows hard, fighting the emotion rising in her throat. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Dani’s hands still over the photo paper, her fingers trembling slightly, though she quickly balls them into fists to hide it. She doesn’t respond, but Paige can see the tension radiating from her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dani finally mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Paige’s heart clenches. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m not,” Dani rebuttals, though both of them know she’s lying. “I just—I can’t do this right now, okay? You should go.”

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head, her voice ready to rise at any second because she’s tired of this. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut me out like this after everything we’ve been through, and then lie and say that you aren’t. I care about you, Dan. I always have. And I know you care about me, too. So, why are you doing this?”

Dani shakes her head profusely, almost like she’s trying to shake something out of her brain. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Paige shoots back, her frustration rising. She can feel the walls between them, the weight of everything Dani isn’t saying, and it’s suffocating. “I’ve been your best friend since we were kids. You can’t just cut me out of your life without an explanation. I know something happened over the summer. Something had to have happened, because I know you wouldn’t do this without reason I know it. But I don’t know why you won’t let me in. Why you won’t even talk to me.”

“No!” Dani responds, her voice rising slightly to meet Paige’s. She stays stubborn, not breaking. “You won’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Paige bursts out, her frustration finally spilling over. She throws her hands up in the air in disbelief. “God, Dani, I’m trying so hard to be here for you, but you’re making it impossible. Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Dani slams her hand down on the counter, making Paige jump. “Because talking won’t fix anything!” she snaps, turning to face Paige. The blonde can see the tears glistening in Dani’s eyes. “You think this is all about you, don’t you? That I’m pushing you away because of something you did. But it’s not about you. It’s about me. It’s about everything I’ve been through, everything I’m still going through. And you can’t fix that.”

Paige’s heart clenches at the sight of Dani’s tear-filled eyes, but she doesn’t stop. She steps closer once more, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe I can’t fix it. But I can be there for you. I can help you if you just let me. Please, Dani. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Dani shakes her head, her hands trembling. She averts her eyes, looking at the corner of the wall, refusing to meet Paige’s gaze. “I—I can’t,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it was like…”

Paige’s breath hitches. Dani’s breaking, right in front of her, and Paige can feel it—the dam about to burst.

“What what was like?” Paige asks gently, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice drops to a low murmur. “What happened, Dani?”

Dani stares at the ground, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Paige watches as Dani digs her nails into her thigh and she fights the urge to take the brunette’s hand in her own. “My dad…” the Callan girl starts, hardly a whisper. “He—on the Ring doorbell—he saw us kiss. You know how he is. You know what he believes in. He couldn’t accept the fact that his daughter liked other girls. So, he sent me to camp. And—and it wasn’t just any camp…” she pauses, finally meeting eyes with Paige. The blonde watches as her tears begin to spill, and she feels her own heart break with every word that comes out of Dani’s mouth. Dani shrugs, “It was conversion therapy.”

Paige freezes. “What?” Her mind reels, the words not fully sinking in at first. “You… you went to—”

“Yeah,” Dani laughs bitterly, her voice thick with tears. “All summer. While you were at basketball camps, traveling, I was stuck in that place. Being told every day that who I am is wrong. That what I feel is… is disgusting. That I was disgusting.”

Paige feels like the ground has been ripped out from under her. She stumbles forward, her hand reaching out to touch Dani’s arm, but Dani flinches away.

“Dani…” Paige’s voice is shaky, her heart aching. “I—I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Dani whispers, and her voice breaks with a sob. “I couldn’t tell you, Paige. I wanted to. You don’t know how much I wanted to. But—y’know, I felt ashamed of the fact that I loved you just as much when I left camp as I did when I got there, even after everything they put me through. And I—I wanted to protect you from all my problems.” She pauses, sniffling slightly, trying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. It doesn’t matter; they keep coming. “My dad, too. He’s friends with Beau’s parents. They started it—the thing with Beau and I. It made my dad happy; that’s all I really wanted. I’ve never wanted or liked Beau, Paige.”

Paige stares at her, eyes flitting across her face. She wants so badly to reach out and touch Dani, hold her. But she doesn’t want to scare her away. So, instead, she asks, “You never did? Not at all?” She thinks she already knows the answer, and she feels almost guilty for being relieved at it.

“Never,” Dani confirms, her arms wrapping around herself, probably trying to stem the sobs. “I wanted someone else.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat.

“But my dad,” the brunette chokes out, “he told me that if he ever saw us together again, that he’d send me back.” Dani looks up at Paige once more, her eyes bloodshot and filled with more fear than Paige has ever seen. Dani shakes her head, sobbing as she says, “Paige, I don’t wanna go back.”

Paige feels her heart shatter at the sight of Dani’s pain finally laid out before her. The blonde takes the final step forward, her hands going to cup Dani’s cheeks, making Dani look at her. Paige says firmly, feeling more protective of the girl before her than anything else in her entire life, “You’re not gonna go back, okay? He can’t you send you back. I won’t let him.”

Dani sobs again, and Paige pulls her in closer, was wrapping her arms around Dani into a tight hug. She holds her so tightly that it feels like they might both stop breathing, but Paige doesn’t care. She isn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m so sorry,” Dani whispers through her tears, clinging to Paige like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “I’m so sorry, P. I—I didn’t want to push you away, but I was so scared. I still am.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Paige murmurs, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she holds Dani even tighter. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

They stay like that, locked in each other’s arms, both of them crying, both of them holding on like the world is falling apart around them.

Because maybe it is.

But for the first time in months, they aren’t facing it alone.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 4)

summary: you meet ryan reynolds and shawn levy, and hugh does his best to keep your nerves at bay. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), smut (oral - m receiving), shower sex (unprotected p in v, hugh bends you over 🫣), dirty talk, hugh briefly calling you a "good girl", no use of y/n. word count: 8.5k a/n: wow, this got filthy real fast but idc lol - i need it to fulfill my fantasies lol (thank you to the anons and @celestiamour who gave me these ideas!). i promise the story is progressing, just needed this little chapter lol. little fun fact about me - i'm also an 'amateur' photographer (who does specialize in engagement shoots, but also love taking landscape / street photography pics) and i've always dreamt of being an on-set photographer so here's to me living out my dream through this story (if you guys ever wanna see my photographs, i'd be so down to post them here too!). this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman (it's the only way i can live out my fantasies of this man lol). prev part.

Hugh wasn’t lying when he said his schedule would become much busier. It’s been a couple of months since meeting him and while he’s been very busy, he stayed true to his word and prioritized making time for you. When you both weren’t at the gym, he insisted on you staying at his place… and the man can be very convincing when he wants to be. 

He’s been traveling a lot and whenever he does get back, he goes straight to your apartment and spends the night. You’ve started to leave a few of your things at his house and he’s started to leave more of his things at yours. Even when he’s traveling and away from you, it never truly does feel like he’s gone. Physically, yes, but he makes time for you and it makes you feel special. 

Hugh’s heading back home today and you’re sitting on your couch, dressed in one of his t-shirts and panties with a throw blanket draped over your lap. You hear your phone go off and reach for it, seeing his name and the text he sends you: Coming up, baby. Can’t wait to see you. 

You’re about to send a reply before you hear a knock on the door. You grin excitedly, tossing the blanket to the side and standing up, lightly jogging to the door. You swing it open and see him standing there, looking very tired, but still so handsome, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. 

“Hey, baby,” Hugh says, voice hoarse and low as he drops his duffle bag to step past the threshold and wrap his arms around your waist. He nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, letting out a sigh of relief. 

You smile against him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Missed you,” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “Come on in. Did you eat?” 

Hugh releases you and grabs his duffle bag, stepping back inside as you shut the door and lock it behind him. You follow him to your bedroom where he drops the bag on the floor near his side of the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you closer to him, to stand between his legs as he rests his forehead against your abdomen. 

“Not hungry,” Hugh says, looking up at you and taking notice of the shirt you’re wearing. His gaze darkens as he runs his fingertips along the sides of your bare legs, biting his lower lip. “This was a longer trip than intended,” he continues. “I’m sorry, love.”

Your fingertips stroke through his locks, eyes locked with his. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand. It’s part of this…” you motion between the both of you. “Part of us.” 

“Mm, how’d I get so lucky, huh?” Hugh asks, gripping your hips and pulling you onto his lap. 

You gasp quietly, feeling his length pressing against your core. “Hugh… You’re tired, baby.”

“Never tired for you, and seeing you in my clothes just does somethin’ to me,” he whispers, leaning up to press his lips against the side of your neck. His beard has grown out, having heard him say multiple times that he needed to shave. You like it though, the salt and pepper look, the scruff and the feel of it against your skin. He knows just how to use it to get you excited. “At least on my next trip, you’ll be coming with me. I can have you every day.” His hands move further underneath the shirt, running up along your back. 

“Hugh,” you whimper, feeling his teeth graze against your neck. Gently, you place your hands on his shoulders and push him onto his back. Slowly, you roll your hips against him, letting out a quiet moan against the fabric of his jeans. “Let me take care of you tonight. Is that okay?” 

“What’d you have in mind, baby?” Hugh pulls back to look up at you, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he feels you press further against his hardening length. 

Slowly, you climb off his lap and then sit up on your knees, biting your lower lip innocently. “Lean against the headboard,” you tell him. 

Hugh doesn’t even hesitate. He scrambles on your bed and sits up, leaning back against your headboard. He reaches the end of his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the side. Your mattress certainly isn’t as big as his, but you both make it work. His hands move to the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing them quickly as his eyes take in your frame and the position you’re in. You’re leaning forward on your hands, your tongue slowly darting out to lick your lower lip as your eyes move towards the center of his pants. 

Hugh’s exhausted and he knows he isn’t going to last long, but he has missed you so much. He knows that this relationship is still new and not that many people know about it, but the more he leaves you, the more he realizes that he wants more of this. He wants everyone in the world to know that you’re his and while he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and move at your own pace, he can’t help but feel excited to know that one day you’d both get there. 

“Take off your pants,” you tell him, slowly crawling towards him as he parts his legs for you.

“I kinda like this side of you,” Hugh smirks, pushing his pants and boxers down his legs and tossing them over the bed. He groans at the relief in pressure, looking down at himself to see his manhood at attention. He reaches down and grasps himself, holding onto his base and tugging a few times. 

You would never get over the sight of his manhood. So long and girthy, leaking at the tip, and hair at his base. Every time, you’re at a loss for words. He’s so beautiful and you try to show some restraint, wanting so badly to just wrap your lips around his length and gag–

“Come ‘ere,” Hugh calls out, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Take that shirt off, baby.” 

You nod and sit up on your knees, pulling the shirt off your body, now only clad in your panties. Slowly, you then crawl towards him, settling yourself between his legs as you gently push away his hand to replace it with your own. Once you wrap your fingers around him, barely able to grasp him in one hand, Hugh lets out a groan. You lean down, wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking the pre-come from his tip. 

His large hand moves to your hair, holding it away from your face as he leans his head back against the headboard. “God, baby,” Hugh moans. 

Your tongue swirls around his tip as your hand strokes his base. You love doing this for him, just as much as he loves going down on you too. Just like him, you’re always so crazed and yearning for more. You feel Hugh’s hand move to the back of your head, urging you to go further down his length. You slowly begin to bob your head and with each movement, going further and further until you feel his tip hit the back of your throat. 

Hugh lets out a loud moan at that, accidentally thrusting his hips upwards for more. He hears you gag and he has to pull you away for a moment so that you can catch your breath, eyes gazing down at you as he sees tears stinging the corner of your eyes. 

“Sorry. I got carried away,” Hugh pants, his manhood throbbing for more. “I just– You look–”

“Shh,” you interrupt him, placing your mouth back onto his cock and beginning to quicken your pace. Your head bobs up and down, going further until you feel the tip of your nose brush against the hair at his base. He’s so deep in your mouth and you’ve learned to relax your throat because the sounds that come out of him is something that you yearn for more of. 

Hugh lets out a litany of curses under his breath, hand gripping your hair as he watches you. Your hand pumps him in time with your mouth moving along him and he shuts his eyes, head hitting the back of the headboard as a loud moan escapes his lips. 

“Baby,” he growls, feeling the tightness build in his lower stomach. “Baby, I’m about to–” 

You interrupt him by lowering yourself until you hit the back of his throat again. You don’t slow down and you don’t make a move to pull away because you know that Hugh’s close and you want nothing more than to taste him and swallow. 

When Hugh realizes that you weren’t going to pull away, it’s enough to make him reach his climax. He holds your head down against him as his hips slightly lift upwards. You pull inches away, your mouth still around his length, as you feel his come in your mouth. You open your eyes to look up at him, lips slightly parted, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving, as he releases his spend. 

You swallow immediately, tasting the salt of his release as you slow your movements. You continue to suck and stroke until he shudders, gently pulling you away from him as his manhood softens against his lower half. 

You sit up on your knees and swallow again, licking your lips as you stare up at him. You wipe the fallen tears away from your eyes, lips swollen as you tilt your head at the sight of him. Hugh slowly opens his eyes and stares at you, a small smile lining his lips. 

“That’s a nice thing to come home to,” Hugh smiles, lowering himself on your bed and pulling you into his arms. “That was amazing.” 

You smile, leaning up to kiss his shoulder. “I can’t help myself sometimes. You’re just so–” you stop yourself, biting your lower lip. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re home.” 

“I’m glad I’m home too, baby.” Hugh kisses the crown of your head and pulls you against his chest. 

You try to pull away from him to grab the shirt from the floor, but he just pulls you back to him. “Hugh,” you giggle. 

“No,” he smiles sleepily. “You don’t need a shirt.”

“What if I get cold?” 

“I’ll warm you up,” he says softly, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I really did miss you, love.” Hugh’s eyes slowly fall shut, feeling completely satisfied and relieved to be with you now. 

“I missed you too, Hugh,” you respond, head resting against him. “Get some sleep, baby.” 

Hugh nods and within minutes, his snores begin to fill your small room. 

—

Hugh decides to stay at your apartment for the next few days and it gives you a glimpse of what a “normal” life would be like with him. You know that you’re set to meet Shawn and Ryan soon and as the day nears, you feel your nerves begin to settle in the pit of your stomach. You don’t tell Hugh though, not wanting him to have to worry about you. 

“So,” you tell him, trying to think of anything else but the meeting with Shawn and Ryan. “I was thinking we can tell our trainer about… You know, about us.” 

Hugh’s eyes light up, turning to look over at you. You’re both sitting on your couch, his arm draped over the back of it as you snuggle against his side. “Yeah?” Hugh can’t help the excitement bubble within him. He knows you’re still a bit wary about this relationship, but if he had it his way, he’d let the whole world know you’re his. “Are you sure, baby?” 

You nod, looking up at him as an arm drapes over his midsection. “Besides, I think she already knows. It’s not like you try to hide it when we’re at the gym.”

“Me?” Hugh playfully gasps, looking into your eyes. “You’re the one who can’t keep their eyes off of me.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, we both know that’s a lie,” you tell him, though, you know you’re only lying to yourself.  

“Is it though, baby?” Hugh smirks, pulling you onto his lap as he looks up at you, hands resting on your thighs. “You do this thing, and I’m almost certain you have no idea you’re doing it.” 

“And what’s that, hm?”

“You bite your lower lip,” Hugh grins, bringing a hand up to run the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “When your eyes zero in on my arms… especially when we’re doing biceps.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, bringing your arms to drape over his shoulders. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say innocently. 

“Oh, so now we wanna act all innocent? You were all talk a minute there,” he chuckles, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. 

“Okay, hush you,” you smile, burying your face against the side of his neck. He holds you like this for a few moments, but he can tell there’s something else on your mind. He runs his hands along your back and up your shoulders, and back down to your waist. He can feel the tension in your shoulders, can hear the quiet sigh that escapes your lips, your breath fanning against the side of his neck.

“What’s up?” he asks quietly, slowly pulling you back so that he can look into your eyes. “What’s on your mind, love?” 

“Nothing,” you tell him, shrugging a shoulder. 

Hugh sighs. “You’re a terrible liar, d’ya know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not lying.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle and brings a hand up to your cheek, gently cupping it. “Talk to me. What can I do to help ease that mind of yours?”

“How do you know something’s bothering me?”

Hugh sighs, tilting his head. “You know, I’m very observant. Especially when it comes to you.” 

“Ah, so you stare too.”

Hugh chuckles lightly, knowing that this is only your way of trying to lighten the mood. “Well, obviously, but that’s besides the point. I don’t know how I can ease that mind of yours if you don’t talk to me, baby. We talked about this already…” 

“I know,” you sigh. “I know. I just don’t want to burden you with my problems and–”

“Your problems are my problems, baby,” Hugh says seriously. “Let me help you. What’s going on?” 

“I’m just nervous,” you tell him. “Meeting Ryan and Shawn… I just don’t want to disappoint them and what if they realize that my work isn’t even that great and then also, it’ll be the first time I’m meeting your friends and–” you ramble, feeling him lean in to peck your lips. 

“Okay, first of all,” he says, pulling away. “Your work is absolutely amazing and they already know that. And second, as long as I’m happy, that’s all that matters to them. Just be you, baby. That’s what got me in the first place,” he smiles. “Don’t try to be anyone else, but you. You make me happy and I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. That means something to me.” 

You nod, looking deeply into his eyes. You can sense there’s something else he wants to say because you also want to say it too, but it’s too early. It’s only been a couple of months and you don’t want to scare him away, but you’d be lying if you said that your feelings for him weren’t getting any deeper… 

Because it was. 

And you’re afraid to fall because you know that if you do, there’s truly no going back.

“I just–” you sigh, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “I just want you happy.”

“I am happy, baby,” he replied quickly, lightly pecking your lips. “I’m happy with you, love. You’ll be okay,” he promises. “Besides, I’ll be there with you.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders tightly, burying your face against the side of his neck. Hugh’s hands come up to your shoulders and he can feel a tremendous difference. There’s still some tension, but it’s certainly not like how it was before. 

“Okay, I believe you,” you tell him, pulling back to look down at him. “Should we go get ready for the gym?” 

Hugh nods, standing up from the couch with you holding onto him. You smile down at him, legs wrapped around his waist as you lock your ankles together at his lower back. He holds you up against him, leading you down the hallway to your bedroom. 

“If I wasn’t training to get back into shape for the Wolverine, I’d take you right here,” he says quietly, leaning in to pepper kisses along your neck. 

“We literally had sex earlier this morning,” you tell him with a giggle, hands playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Do you know what you look like?” Hugh says, gently setting you on your feet once you both get to your bedroom. “You make me feel young again,” he teases. 

“Ah, right,” you tell him, grabbing the ends of the shirt you’re wearing and pulling it over your head, tossing it in his direction. “I forget you’re such an old man,” you tease, walking shirtless to your closet to change into your workout clothes. 

Hugh’s gaze darkens and he strides over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His hands come up to cover your breasts, kneading them into the pit of his palms. “How about I just bend you over right across your dresser and just–”

“Hugh!” you whimper pushing back against him. “We have to get to the gym.”

Hugh grunts and then pulls away, turning you around so that he can look at your exposed chest. “Fine,” he says with a huff. “But after our workout, we’re coming back here and you’re gonna let me have my way with you.”

“Oh, I’m gonna let you, huh?” you grin, running your hands across his hardened chest. 

“Yeah, you are,” Hugh growls, stepping closer to you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “Now, go and get ready or else we’re never going.” 

You turn around to grab clothes and feel Hugh smack your backside, causing a gasp to escape your lips. You look over at him and he’s staring at you with a grin and winks in your direction before walking away to let you finish getting ready.

—

You and Hugh are both halfway through your workout, both already drenched in sweat from yet another tough workout from your trainer. You get a brief break and walk up to your trainer, taking a deep breath. This will be the first person that you’ll be telling about your relationship and you’re a bit nervous. It still feels surreal to say (or even believe) that you’re in a relationship with Hugh Jackman. 

“Hey you,” your trainer says, smiling in your direction. “Great first half of the workout.”

“Yeah right,” you laugh quietly, using your towel to wipe the sweat off your brow. “I felt like that just kicked my ass. Listen, I wanted to tell you something and…” 

A knowing grin lines her lips. “What’s that?” 

Your eyes narrow in her direction, tilting your head. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No reason,” she chuckles. “What did you want to tell me?” 

You look over your shoulder at Hugh who’s looking down at his phone and your eyes linger on his arms, especially his arms. When he looks up at you, he winks in your direction and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to your trainer. “So, Hugh and I… We’re in a relationship… It’s still new, but–”

“I knew it,” she interrupts you with a larger smile. “You guys don’t make an effort to hide it, you know,” she laughs. “You stare at him a lot.”

“Okay, let’s never tell him that because he won’t ever let me live it down if you do,” you laugh. “But, I’m really happy. Like extremely happy and I’m afraid I’m going to end up self-sabotaging it because I don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, but he’s… He’s amazing.” 

“Take it day by day,” your train responds. “You deserve a good man and Hugh’s definitely one of the good ones. Let yourself be loved the way you deserve,” she tells you. 

“Thank you,” you reply, pulling her into a hug. “You know just all the right things to say, you know that?” 

She hugs you tightly and then releases you, smiling at you. “Lots of experience. Now, let’s get back to the workout.” 

—

By the end of the work out, you’re lying on the mats trying to catch your breath. You’re about to stand up before you feel Hugh hover above you in a high plank position, his hands resting above your head at shoulder-width distance. 

“Care to motivate me to complete my finisher?” he grins, looking down at you as he tightens his core to keep himself upright. 

“I don’t think I can even move,” you chuckle, looking up at him. “That workout was–”

“Don’t gotta move, baby,” he winks, pushing himself down in a push-up, chest hovering inches above yours as he leans down to peck your lips. “Just motivate me with your kisses, can you do that for me?” 

“That’s gonna motivate you?” you tease. “And how in the hell are you holding this push-up position?” 

Hugh just chuckles and then pushes himself back up. “Just answer the question. Every time I come down, gimme a kiss. Seems easy enough, isn’t it?” 

“If I must,” you wink. “Now, come on then. Finish this last exercise so you can take me back home and have your way with me,” you repeat. 

Hugh’s eyes narrow, pushing himself down into a push-up. You meet him halfway and lean up to peck his lips before he pushes himself upright. He continues this for a few more reps, but you’re beginning to distract him because you bring your hands up his chest to his shoulders and down his flexed arms. 

“I have one more set, baby, stop that,” Hugh says, pushing himself down and pecking your lips. He notices the look in your eyes and he can feel himself stirring within his shorts. “You’re not helping me,” he chuckles. 

“I think I’m helping you plenty,” you reply. “But are you helping me?” 

Hugh pushes himself down once more, but moves his head to the side of your neck as his lips brush against you. He feels you shudder against him and let out a shaky breath. He barely pushes himself back up as he moves to hover his lips closely over yours. “I will be after this.” 

“Mmm, promise? Because all I’ve been able to think about is you bending me over and–”

Hugh growls and moves into a high plank once more. He looks down at you, watching as you bite your lower lip. He doesn’t bother replying to you, wanting to just finish his last set of this exercise so that he can just take you back home. 

“Okay, get on up and meet me in the car while I finish this.” 

“You don’t need me to motivate you anymore?” you ask innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

Hugh shakes his head and then stands up, reaching down to pull you on your feet. His hand darts out to rest on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. He has to remind himself that you’re both still at the gym and while your trainer isn’t in the same room, he can’t just take you here. 

“Go to the car and wait for me there,” he repeats. 

“Or… what?” 

Hugh lets out a low growl, gaze darkening. He steps closer to you, pulling you flush against him at the same time as his lips hover near your ear. He whispers quietly, voice laced with desire and it shoots straight to your core. “Oh, baby, are we not gonna be a good girl today?” He nudges against you, hand dipping from your hip to move around your lower back, inching further to grasp your backside. “Because I’m sure you remember what happens when you ain’t being good.” 

“But, what if I like being bad?” 

“Then don’t whine and beg for me to let you come,” Hugh says with a husky voice. You can feel chills wash over your body as you pull back to look up at him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “Now, meet me in the car. I’ll be there shortly.” 

You want to call his bluff, but you just want him so badly that you move away with a huff. “Fine,” you tell him, turning around to grab your bag. He reaches for your hand for a moment, his touch soft and gentle in comparison to the words he just said as he pulls you back to him. 

“Gimme a kiss at least.”

“So needy, so demanding,” you tell him, leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. 

“Yeah, we’ll see who’s needy later.” he replies almost instantly. 

—

The ride back to your apartment was quick. You can tell Hugh was trying to get back to your place in record time. His right hand remained on your upper thigh, but throughout the entire ride, he didn’t say anything. You know where his mind had drifted to, what he was probably thinking because when you reached over to rest your own hand on his thigh, he just grabbed your wrist and pushed it away. 

“No, baby,” was all he said. The moment he pulls into his parking spot at your apartment complex, he quickly climbs out to grab your bags from the trunk. You step out of the car and begin walking towards your door, looking over your shoulder at Hugh whose eyes are staring directly at you.

And once inside your apartment, Hugh drops both of your bags and shuts the door with his foot. The moment you both remove your shoes, Hugh is on you. His arms wrap around your waist, head dipping down to press light kisses on the side of your neck. He pulls you flush against him and he hears you gasp, knowing that you can feel his hardening length beneath his shorts. 

“Hugh…” you whimper, arms snaking around his shoulders. “Can we–”

“Shh,” Hugh interrupts, lifting you in his arms as you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. He begins walking down the hallway towards your bedroom until he feels your lips on his neck, gently biting down and sucking on the skin afterwards. 

Suddenly, Hugh stops and turns you so that your back is pressed against the wall. He pulls back to look at you, grabbing your hands and pressing them roughly against the wall above your head. Your legs remain tightly wrapped around him, rolling your hips slowly as you yearn for friction, yearn to feel more of him. 

Hugh’s gaze is filled with lust as he stares at you, gripping your wrists as he leans forward, nose nudging against yours. “I should punish you for not listening to me earlier, for teasing me…” Hugh says, his breath fanning against your lips. 

“But?” you ask, tilting your head as you squeeze him closer to you. “But you’re too nice and won’t do that, right?” you smile, letting out a quiet giggle. 

Hugh shakes his head and rests his forehead against yours. “You’re really testing me, aren’t ya? And you know exactly what you’re doin’.”

“I have an idea,” you tell him, leaning in to gently nip at his lower lip. “How about we take a shower and… and see what happens?” 

Hugh lets out an involuntary groan, just thinking and imagining bending you over in your shower or even just holding you up in his arms like this while the water cascades down your bodies. He suddenly sets you back onto your feet, releasing your wrists as he looks down at you. 

“Lead the way then, baby.” 

“Yeah?” you ask excitedly, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Without waiting for him to reply, you grab his hand and lead him towards your bedroom and into the connected bathroom. Once inside, you release your hold on him and lean over the tub to let the water run so that it can heat up. You reach out to test the temperature, feeling the water hit your hand. When you turn back to Hugh, he’s already stripped down to his boxers with an obvious bulge beneath it. 

Your eyes take in his frame, moving along his chiseled and muscular upper body and down to the waistband of his boxers. You swallow quietly, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and pulling it down your legs. Hugh stands there, watching you undress as he moves his boxers down his own legs. He lets out a groan of relief, hand immediately reaching down to grasp onto his throbbing length to stroke himself slowly. 

Your clothes pool at your ankles as you stand before him, completely naked and bare, watching as he strokes himself at the mere sight of you. You feel a wetness pool between your legs, throbbing and yearning to wrap around something. 

Hugh takes the initiative to step inside the shower, the water instantly hitting his sore muscles and the heat of the water doing its job to provide relief. He watches you step inside with him and immediately, he reaches out to grab you and pull you flush against him. The water cascades down both your bodies from above as you reach up to stroke back your wet hair and see Hugh do the same. You lean up on your toes and slowly press your lips against his, moving it almost instantly as you feel his manhood stir and throb against your lower abdomen.

His hands move down your wet back and to your backside, gripping both cheeks tightly in his large hands as he feels your breasts push against him. He’s throbbing so painfully that he knows he can’t tease you and drag this out long enough to have you begging because he needs to be inside of you now. 

Slowly, Hugh pulls away to look down at you. Eyes searching your own and it’s in this moment that Hugh feels like this can be something so much more than he expected it to be. He reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against you as the water continues to trickle down your bodies. 

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers. 

When Hugh’s gaze softens like this, eyes staring deeply into your own, it almost feels like you know what he’s thinking, what he wants to say but doesn’t. You feel his thumb move down your cheek until the pad of his thumb brushes lightly along your lower lip, causing your lips to part instinctively. 

“Hugh, I–” 

He interrupts you with a soft kiss on your lips. “I know, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” Then, he turns you around, eyes drifting down your back to your backside. Hugh then moves a hand to your middle back and slowly guides you to bend over as you reach out to rest your hands on the shower wall in front of you. 

Hugh grasps himself and runs his tip along your folds, growling to himself. He uses his free hand to rest on your hip, fingertips digging into your flesh as he slowly slides into you. Your warmth and tightness surrounds him and he forces himself to keep the slow pace, your moans mixing in with the sounds of the water. He reaches up to take hold of your wet hair in his grasp, tilting your head slightly to the side so that he can see your face. 

You moan loudly at the feel of him stretching you out. You don’t think you’d ever get used to his size, but despite the painful stretch in the beginning, you know that your walls will slowly begin to give way for him. And you’re always dripping wet for him that he just slides right in and this is certainly no different. 

When Hugh fills you to the hilt, he has to remain still for a moment because you’re gripping him so tight that he knows once he starts to move, he won’t be able to stop until he reaches his high. But he suddenly feels you move back against him, eyes immediately drifting down to your backside as this position gives him such an amazing view. He moves his hand from your hair to your hip as both hands grip you and begin to move you back and forth on his hardened length. 

Your moans filter into the bathroom, the steam from the shower encompassing the entire bathroom. As Hugh pulls you back against him, he pushes his hips forward, groaning to himself at the sensation of your warmth. Hugh will never get enough of this, of you. He’s had plenty of conversations with Ryan about you, about how he can see himself falling so deeply in love with you that it not only scares him, but also excites him too. 

“Hugh…” you moan, reaching back to grab a hold of his forearm as your nails dig into the skin. His thrusts are slowly beginning to pick up in speed, the sound of skin slapping against one another now mixing in with the sounds of your moans and the water that has now turned cool. 

“Oh, baby,” Hugh groans, taking your hand and holding it firmly against your lower back. He pulls back, looking down at where you’re connected and it turns him on even more. Your slickness coats his entire length and he pushes back into you with ease, your walls giving way to his girth but still so tight around him.

You feel your body begin to tremble as Hugh’s thrusts bring you closer and closer to the edge. As you’re about to reach your high, you quickly pull away from him, his length slipping out of you with ease. You turn around to face him, biting your lower lip as Hugh looks at you with a confused look.

“You were close, weren’t you?” Hugh smirks, stepping closer to you. 

“Sorry, it was too much and I–”

Hugh presses his lips against yours and then lifts you up into his arms, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist with ease. He uses his free hand to reach down to grasp his base, lining himself at your entrance. He pressed your back against the shower wall as he slowly slides back into you, growling against your lips. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders as your fingernails dig into the skin at his upper back. He wastes no time in thrusting up into you, his hands resting underneath you. He’s careful not to slip, even with the water continuing to run down but he needs you to to come, needs to see and hear you. Slowly, he pulls away from your lips, forehead instead resting against yours as your lips brush against his. 

“Come for me, baby,” Hugh whispers, driving his hips upwards. The muscles in his arms and chest flex as he holds you up against the wall, pulling his hips back only to push them back towards you, his length kissing that sweet spot within your depths repeatedly. 

Your walls begin to tighten around his length and you squeeze your legs even tighter around him to pull him closer to you as your nails drag down his back. “Hugh!” You hold onto him tightly, feeling his movements become more erratic. 

Hugh buries his face against the side of your neck, teeth dragging along your skin as he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge. He feels you tighten even further around him and he pulls out abruptly to shoot his release in the inside of your thigh. 

You stare at him, completely breathless as you lean forward to peck his lips lightly. “We didn’t even shower,” you tease, panting against him.

Hugh chuckles, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. “Worth it,” he replies. “And you called my bluff… I just couldn’t tease you and have you beg when all I wanted to do was just be inside of you.”

“Good…” you smile, slowly unwrapping your legs around his waist so that you can fully stand upright. Your legs feel a bit wobbly, bracing yourself on his shoulders as his hands move to your hips. “Because I’d have been a mess if you left me begging.”

“Mmm,” Hugh grins. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe next time,” he winks. “Now, come on. Let’s get cleaned up, love.”

—

For the rest of the week, you’re spending it at Hugh’s place. It’s easy how you both can slip into a routine with each other and how well you both coexist. Even though this relationship is still very new and in the beginning stages, you’re starting to see exactly how easy you can fit into Hugh’s life. You still have some reservations, still nervous that this might not work out, but the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is something you’d want to give a chance for the possibility of being something greater than you ever imagined. 

You’re set to meet Ryan and Shawn tonight and you’re nervous. Knowing that Hugh would be there with you does ease your mind, but this is the first step in truly seeing if you can fit into his life. 

You’re in the kitchen, whisking pancake batter in a bowl to cook breakfast for you and Hugh. You’ve gotten used to wearing his clothes and this morning is no different because you’re just dressed in one of his black t-shirts and nothing but. You’re so deep in thought, focused solely on making breakfast that you don’t hear him coming down the stairs and it isn’t until you feel his arms wrap around you from behind that it pulls you out of your trance. 

“Morning, baby,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the side of your neck. “Making me breakfast?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Protein pancakes and then some scrambled eggs.” 

You turn your head and kiss his cheek, smiling in his direction before you continue to whisk the batter. 

“You spoil me,” he smiles. “I’m going on a run with a few friends, but I should be back by the time you’re done.” Hugh then pulls away from you to grab a glass of water as you turn to look at him. He’s dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a hat. Your eyes take in his frame, lingering at his arms and chest and down his legs. It isn’t until he clears his throat that you finally look up at him who’s staring at you with a knowing smirk. 

“What’s on your mind, hm?” Hugh grins. 

“You just look…” you bite your lower lip, reaching down to play with the end of your (his) t-shirt. “I like seeing you in a white t-shirt and the one you’re wearing is literally about to rip. It’s so tiny!” 

“It is not,” Hugh chuckles, eyes lingering on your frame as well. “I’m just getting bigger…”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” you grin and walk towards him, hands running across his chest as you feel him flex underneath your fingertips. “I like you either way, but seeing you get into shape as Wolverine again is just…” 

Hugh leans down and pecks your lips, hand moving down to your hip. “Oh, I know. You practically stare at me every chance you get.” 

“Do you blame me?” 

“Not at all…” Hugh smiles, staring deeply into your eyes. “But that’s only because I stare at you every chance I get too.” 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” 

“I’d say the best pair,” Hugh says softly. “You ready for tonight?” 

You shrug and move your arms to wrap around his shoulders. “No, I’m nervous… But I think knowing that you’ll be there helps a bit.”

“Just a bit?”

You smile. “Oh yeah, a very tiny bit.” 

Hugh’s eyes narrow. “If I’m only gonna help a tiny bit, then I might as well not go with you.”

“No!” you say immediately, shaking your head. “Don’t do that. I need you there.”

“Ah, so more than a tiny bit.”

“Yes,” you laugh quietly. “Since you’ll be there, I know I’ll be okay.” 

“You’d be okay with or without me there,” Hugh reassures. “But I’m happy to spend time with you, Ryan, and Shawn tonight.”

“It’s going to be very casual, right?”

Hugh nods. “Very casual.” he pecks your lips lightly and then pulls away. “I better get going. I’ll be back soon, baby.” 

“Have a good run, Hugh,” you tell him, hands slowly sliding down his arms before you move back to the task at hand. Your eyes focus on whisking the batter as you move around in his kitchen to grab the necessary things you need to complete breakfast. Hugh watches you for a brief moment, eyes filled with so much love and appreciation that for a split second, he wants so badly to tell you what has been on his mind since his last trip. 

But he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

—

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a pair of high waisted denim pants with a black, loose fit collared v-neck knitted sweatshirt. Your makeup remains light and natural and you play nervously with the black belt on your pants. 

Hugh comes up from behind you, dressed just as casually in a pair of black jeans, black t-shirt with a black bomber jacket over. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin against the side of your neck. 

“You look amazing.” Hugh smiles. “You ready to go?” 

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “Not only do I want them to like my work, but there’s a bit of added pressure because they know we’re together and they’re both your closest friends and–”

Hugh quietly hushes you with a gentle kiss against your temple. “They already like your work,” he reassures you. “And I talk about you all the time. It’s like they already know you.” 

“I don’t know if that helps me or not,” you tell him honestly. “I just–” You turn around to face him, looking up at him. “I just really like you and I want to get along with your friends, even if they are really fucking famous and–”

“Stop,” Hugh says, gently resting his hands on your hips. “Just think of it as a night out with friends. We’re gonna grab dinner and a couple of drinks and then call it a night.” 

“What if you realize that I’m actually not all that great and then rethink this entire relationship?”

“Okay,” Hugh sighs quietly and rests his forehead against yours, eyes staring deeply into yours. “I like you, a lot, baby. I know this is still new for us, but there’s nothing I want more than to be with you.” He brings a hand up to your cheek, thumb brushing against your soft skin. “Just be you.”

“But what if–”

“Nope,” he interrupts. “What does our trainer tell you?” He tilts his head, eyes gazing into your own. “Ah, yes. Self-talk, baby. You gotta treat yourself just as kindly as I see you treat others.” 

“Okay,” you nod, letting out a quiet sigh. “We should probably go before I talk myself out of it.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t let you back out,” Hugh smiles, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom. Your heels click against the tile floor as you follow Hugh downstairs. “We’re taking a car tonight. I know you still want to keep this relationship under wraps from press, so I figured–”

“Thank you, Hugh.” you say softly, following him out of his house and towards the black SUV parked out front. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I just want my girl to be comfortable and happy,” Hugh smiles. 

My girl. 

You slide into the car and immediately greet the driver, who looks at you from the rearview mirror with a shocked expression. Hugh slides in right next to you and shuts the door, hearing you make small talk with the driver and he smiles to himself. It baffles him how kind, sweet, and considerate you are to other people, but to yourself, it’s a very different story. He wishes he can make you see just how amazing you are or make you see the way he sees you. 

Hugh also chimes in on the conversation as the driver begins driving away from Hugh’s house and towards the city. His hand moves to rest on your thigh, looking down at you with a small smile on his lips. He leans in and kisses the side of your head, feeling your hand move to cover his own. 

It doesn’t take long before you and Hugh arrive at the restaurant. You look outside and let out a breath of relief, glad that you don’t see one paparazzi as Hugh steps out first. He reaches a hand out for you and you tell the driver to have a good night before you take Hugh’s hand and climb out after him. 

He leads you inside and immediately spots Ryan and Shawn at the corner of the restaurant, waving in both of your directions.

“Just be you,” Hugh repeats, whispering into your ear as you follow closely behind him. 

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Ryan teases, hugging Hugh as you bite your lower lip. You watch him greet Shawn before he turns to you, a large smile on his lips. He rests a hand on your lower back, urging you closer to the table. 

“And this is…” Hugh smiles, saying your name as he introduces you to Ryan and Shawn.

“Okay, you’ve told us a lot about her, but you didn’t say she was this beautiful,” Ryan replies, causing a quiet chuckle to escape Hugh’s lips. You feel heat rise in your cheeks as you instinctively lean against Hugh for comfort, for support. 

Just be you. 

Just be you.

Just be you.

You take a deep breath and then reach your hand to shake Shawn and Ryan’s hands, smiling up at them. “I’m eager to hear what things he’s said about me if beautiful wasn’t part of it,” you tease. 

Hugh shakes his head and pulls out your chair, waiting until you sit down before he takes his spot next to you. Ryan and Shawn sit across from you, already each with a drink in front of them. 

“I like you,” Ryan chuckles. “I’m Ryan.” 

“I’m Shawn.”

You smile and feel Hugh’s hand move to rest casually on your thigh. You don’t realize how much it brings you comfort and you glance up at him for a moment before you turn your attention to Shawn and Ryan. 

“I’m a huge fan of you both… And I’m excited to join you for the movie,” you tell them. 

“Oh, Hugh’s shown us some of your work and it’s impressive. I can’t believe you only do engagement shoots,” Shawn says, his eyes lighting up. “I mean, those are great too, but your landscapes and street photography are amazing.” 

“I still can’t believe it,” you tell him, laughing quietly. “I mean, I’m just a woman with a camera–”

“Who takes fucking awesome pictures,” Ryan finishes for you. 

“He’s right. We’re excited to have you join us too.” Shawn adds. 

Hugh smiles proudly in your direction, looking around the table as you continue to have a conversation with both Ryan and Shawn. He envisioned this so clearly, how well you fit in in his life and to see it firsthand, it makes him feel the love he has for you bloom in his heart. 

He looks over at Ryan, who’s staring back at him with a knowing grin. Hugh narrows his eyes, tilting his head before he interrupts you and Shawn briefly. 

“Ryan and I are gonna grab a drink at the bar. What d’ya want, baby?” 

“White wine, love,” you say almost instantly, your pet name for him coming out naturally that it causes you to blush. 

Hugh grins at that and then stands up with Ryan, walking towards the bar. He feels Ryan place a firm hand on his shoulder and he looks over at the other man, letting out a quiet chuckle. 

“Okay, out with it. I know you have something to say.”

“What? Me?” Ryan playfully gasps then laughs quietly. “I’ve got nothing,” he lies.

Hugh’s eyes narrow. “We both know that’s a lie. What is it?” 

Ryan smiles genuinely. “You’re happy.” 

“I am, mate. She makes me happy,” Hugh replies almost too quickly. He glances over his shoulder at you, seeing you in such natural conversation with Shawn. He doesn’t see the tension in your shoulders, doesn’t see the concern or anxiety in your features; you’re completely relaxed and comfortable. 

“And she’s great,” Ryan adds. 

“She is, isn’t she?” Hugh smiles. “I think…” he sighs, biting the inside of his cheek. “I think I’m falling in love with her, Ryan.” 

“Oh, I could have told you that,” he chuckles. “Does she know?” 

Hugh shakes his head. “No, no. It’s still too early. I don’t– I don’t want to scare her away.” 

Once at the bar, Ryan raises a hand in the air to get the bartender’s attention before he turns back to look at Hugh. “Well, something tells me that she probably feels the same way.” 

“You don’t know that, mate.” 

“Hugh,” Ryan says. “Do you not see the way she looks at you?” 

Hugh looks over at you, catching your gaze briefly. He feels the warmth in his chest at the sight of you smiling in his direction. He winks over at you before he turns to Ryan. “It’s still too early,” he repeats. “I’ll tell her when… when I think the moment is right.” 

Before Ryan can reply, the bartender comes by and Hugh tells him your drink order and his. After a few minutes, he thanks the bartender as he and Ryan make his way back to the table and realizes that you aren’t at the table. 

“She went to the bathroom,” Shawn tells them, then he turns to Hugh with a grin. “Hugh, she’s amazing.” 

Hugh smiles, sitting down. He looks over at the hallway towards the bathrooms, seeing you walk down the hallway as you begin making your way back to them, back to him. 

“Yeah, she is,” he says, voice laced with so much love and appreciation as his eyes stay locked on yours. “I don’t think I’m ever letting her go.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom - @sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss - @sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay

[paperclip-skz]

Not Drinking For a Fun Time

fem*Reader x Bang Chan

*WARNING*

contains: p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, TENSION, straight up delulu, grinding, oral (fem receiving), I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 8.7k

a/n: not gonna lie, I'm super nervous because this is my first ever "long fic" that I'm posting and I'm not sure how ya'll will react. This started out as a fluff story and we only meant to be a couple hundred words or so...and then it escalated. Also, my requests are open so if you have an idea and want me to play it out please do not be afraid to send me an ask, I'll pretty much anything fluff, scenario....the dirtier the better hehe

Synopsis: “I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship

***** 

You're at the bar. Sulking. Wishing you were at home but longing for another drink. Your day couldn’t be worse, from the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on to all the little things that ticked you off in the worst ways. 

The bartender rests another glass in front of you, the cold liquid reflecting the bar's dim light. “On the house,” he gestures to the drink. You nod your head in thanks and lazily grab the drink. You’ve already had enough to make your mind foggy, but not foggy enough. The events of today keep replaying in your head. 

“You’ll need to cooperate with us, Ms.L/N.” The shock is evident in not only your face but your tone as well. 

“Cooperate? You're asking me to be someone that I’m not.” Your chest heaves with anger, and your mind runs miles with adrenaline. 

“Y/N, please,” Chris coos. You whip your head around to meet the leader's and the group's defeated eyes. They have their heads hung low, still trying to process the information given in the meeting. 

“I’m not a performer, and I’m not a singer. I can’t entertain people. What makes you think I can lie to them?” … this was the goal. Lie to the public about a relationship between you and Chris, but there was no relationship. In fact, you didn’t know any of the members from Stray Kids. 

You didn’t know any of them until you started working in the same building as them. You’d pass them by in the halls, nodding in acknowledgment. One day, you were just off, stressed from all the work and frustrated that nothing was working. 

Chris noticed and asked if you were okay, being the amazing person he is. His comfort eased your stress, but anyone from afar could have mistaken his comfort for something else. The next thing you knew, pictures of you and Chris were plastered on every face of social media. Hell, you were even on the news.

Everyone was terrified that the public would react negatively and you wouldn’t be allowed to step a foot out of your own house, but it was the opposite. People swooned over your fake relationship and the idea that Chris had found someone that made him happy, but none of that was true. 

The sting of the liquid slides down your throat, and the bitter aftertaste makes your face scrunch. However, the foggy effects of the drink quickly fade your feelings. You notice a few snickers behind you, a pair of girls whispering and staring holes into the back of your head. You ignore them as much as possible while taking another small sip of your drink. 

Am I being overdramatic? Should I just go with what they are saying? People already think so, anyway. Thoughts cloud your mind, and you're entirely oblivious to the man who sneakily slides into the stool next to you. You turn your eyes to him and notice the ball cap that covers his face and the oversized black hoodie that hugs his body casually. 

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, and you're welcomed with soft brown eyes. You sigh…and groan simultaneously, taking another sip of your drink. “I’m not drinking for a fun time, Mr. Bahng.” 

“Then I’m not either.” he raises his finger, indicating a bottle. The bartender quickly sets a bottle of Soju on the counter along with a shot glass. 

You both sit there in silence as Chris pours a single shot. He swings his head back, taking the shot with ease. 

“What are you doing here Bahng?” your voice mimics defeat. 

“Drinking,” his voice is anything but defeat or sympathy. In fact, it almost sounds… optimistic. Your blood boils. How is he not angry, confused, or at least unhappy with the situation? You look at him with disgust.

You scoff under your breath, paying attention back to your glass, “I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe what?” he questions.

“I can’t believe you have no reaction. I can’t believe you're not angry. They are asking for us to be in a fake relationship, and you're not the least bit affected,” you whisper, careful not to let anyone hear. 

“I am angry, but not in the way you think” he turned his body to you. “I’m angry that you're in this situation. You didn’t ask for this, but here we are.” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You lean forward, caging your head in your hands. Tears are threatening to spill. I can’t lie to the world when I don’t even want this. I don’t want to lie. I want to be able to date and have fun, not be caged to some contract just because someone mistook comfort for something else. I can’t have people watch my every move, just waiting for me to make the simplest mistake. 

“Not by yourself, you can’t,” his words lift your head slowly, and your body hangs low in front of you. 

“I don’t even know you.”

“That will come with time. Look, I won’t force you into this; no one will. But you need to know that things have already escalated, and if we don’t do something soon, they will continue to escalate. Yes, this is a solution, a messy one, but a solution.” The earnestness in his eyes makes your heart warm and the tears swell. “And you need to know, you're not doing this alone. I might be a stranger, but I’m here, and the guys say I’m a pretty good listener.” his last comment makes you chuckle as a single tear escapes you, rolling down your cheek. Chris instinctively reaches his hand to catch the tear on your cheek; his thumb delicately wipes the salty liquid off your cheek. The touch is simple but sweet, and you hate the way his touch electrifies your whole body. Your eyes meet, gentle brown eyes and a deep dimple smile. 

Your heart fills with an unfamiliar warmth, but it's welcomed….slightly. Maybe this won’t be as bad as you might think. 

They did offer money, and there's a contract, so does the risk really outweigh the means? Your mind is fighting to keep up with what's morally right and what you want. What do you want? 

You do the one thing you’ve always done: count to three in your head, breathe a long, deep breath, and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Okay.” You stare into Chris’s eyes, pleading for him to understand your hesitance. “I’ll do it.” 

Chris breathes out a sigh of relief, and you can physically see his body relax on the stool. He takes out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows. It makes you laugh, but regardless, you shake his hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“No problem, Mr.Bahng,” you spin in your chair and back to your drink.

“Please, call me Chris,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

*******

3 weeks go by after you agreed to be in this fake relationship. A contract was signed, and rules were in place, but that didn’t stop your nerves from crawling all over your body. 

“Okay, run this by me one more time so that I understand completely.” 

Stray Kids' head of marketing sits comfortably at the end of the table, scanning you and Chris. 

You and Chris, it's hard to think about. Since you’ve both agreed to this, you’ve gotten closer and become close friends. It’s hard to imagine that you barely even knew each other weeks ago, but now, he’s your closest friend, closer than anyone else. 

“The press and fans love your relationship; it's actually boosting ratings. Ever since we announced your ‘relationship,’” she air quotes the word, “your fans have been more active.”

You don’t know how to feel; you're glad that the band is getting more attention, but you're also a little nervous. I mean, how long is this little ruse supposed to go on for? “Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?” 

“But, your fans are asking more and more questions. When did you meet? Are you two living together? How involved are you?” She directs each question to you as if you know all the answers. 

“So what can we do to ease the questions? Surely, no one can expect us to keep this up forever.” You’re thankful Chris can read your mind. 

The marketing head and everyone else in the room hold their breaths. The silence makes your heart thump and sink, “you are, aren't you?” The laugh that escapes you is humorless and breathy. “You are expecting us to keep this up, at least for as long as we can, until someone starts raising eyes, but even then, you’ll probably come up with some way to puppet us out of it.” 

Chris looks from you to the marketing head, waiting for someone to answer your accusation. “Well, is that true?” You’re both met with more silence, answering both of your questions. He scoffs next to you, joining you in your humorless acts.  “Well, what's your solution then?” 

There has to be a catch to all of this. “We suggest that you both…” she pauses, eyes screaming with concern, “start saying that you live together.” 

“Just start saying this publicly? That's all?” You wait for the answer to Chris’s question, but when their marketing professional meets your eye with a weary look, you already know it.

“No, they want us to live together and show it off,” you answer Chris before the head of marketing can speak. 

Chris is fuming beside you; this wasn’t a part of the deal, “But the contract-” 

“The contract states that both of you will keep up this act under any means necessary.” she pauses for a moment, “if the public sees that you are both happy and moving forward, there’s a very good possibility that they’ll be content and move onto another form of gossip. We need to show them that you're both just moving forward like a normal couple.” She tries to make sense of it, even though as you replay her words in your mind, they seem crazier and crazier. You and Chris share the same look of disapproval, but if they were right about this fake relationship, why wouldn’t they be right about anything else? “We just need to keep this act up until something better comes along,” she continues, directing her last comment directly at you, “I promise this will all be over soon. No idol can escape drama of some kind.”

You hang on desperately to her last words, which brings you here and now, moving the last box of your stuff into a small apartment the company paid for. At least you're not spending any real money on all this. You set your box down on the kitchen counter, clapping your hands. “Finally,” you breathe. 

You walk around the kitchen counter and into the living room. There's a large couch in the middle and two hallways on either side of the living room. One leads to Chris’s room and the other to yours. It's a small apartment, but it works for your situation. Chris had already moved his stuff into his room; you haven’t seen much of him. 

You saunter down the hall to your bedroom and collapse onto your bed. Suddenly, your phone starts to ring. You answer without looking at the caller ID, “Hi honey, how are you?”.

“Hey Ama, I’m good, how is Appa?” the smile reaches your ears as you talk endlessly with your mother. The second this whole thing started, the first thing you did was call your mother. Hearing her encouraging words made the whole ordeal a little less nerve-racking. You couldn’t lie to your mother, the rest of the world…maybe, but not her. 

After an hour, you hang up the phone with your mom, bidding her a goodnight. “Jesus, it's late.” You look out into the cold night sky, guessing you kind of lost track of time. 

You get up from your spot on your bed and hurriedly get dressed into your sleepwear until your stomach pains with the feeling of being empty. Hunger overwhelms you as you make your way out to the kitchen quietly. You're wearing an oversized sweater and shorts, with your hair up in a messy bun as you enter the kitchen to find Chris eating cereal. “Don’t tell me that’s your dinner.” 

“Hey! I will let you know that this is a perfectly normal late-night snack,” Chris says between mouthfuls. He’s wearing a black tank top, showing off his defined arms and grey sweatpants. It's so casual, but why does it make him look so hot? 

It makes you chuckle and shake your head, and you slowly make your way to the middle of the kitchen. 

The one word to describe the air in the room right now is awkward. What do you do? Do you act like he’s not there and just go about making food? Do you take a snack into your room and leave him be? Maybe he's hungry, but is asking to make him some food too much? 

Chris sees the gears turning in your head, “do you want something to eat?” He asks.

“Oh, Um. Yeah, but I’m not sure what to make just yet.” You fiddle with your sleeve.

“There's ramen in the cabinets and cereal in the other one. I’m not sure what's in the fridge, but I’m sure there's some fruit if you’d like.” You nod your head, thinking of what you're craving. “But we can always order something if you're craving something specific?” 

He’s so kind. It's the same kindness he showed that fateful day when someone mistook that kindness for something more intimate. You smile at the thought. “Fruit sounds good.” You walk over to the fridge and scan its contents. You settle on some strawberries, take the plastic box, and run it through the sink. You don’t know how hungry you really are, so instead of wasting a plate and taking it to your room, you settle on just plucking each strawberry out of the plastic container. 

*Chris* 

Chris watches as you wrap your plump lips around each strawberry; his mind spins with different ideas. He thinks of your lips wrapping around his finger, your tongue twirling around his digit. He thinks of his cock springing free and your hand pumping him to full length while your mouth hangs low in anticipation. He leans forward, guiding himself across your waiting tongue…

“So why are you up so late?” Your comment snaps him out of his fantasies. He tries to shuffle in his spot, making it seem casual when, in reality, his sweats have become uncomfortably tight. 

“I had some work I needed to finish, and then I got hungry.” he gestures to the now empty bowl, “How about you?” 

“I was on a call with my mom, lost track of time, and then got hungry.” You gesture to the strawberry in your hand and slowly wrap your lips around it. Chris looks down, trying not to stare, but then he swallows a groan when he sneaks a glimpse of your bare legs. Shorts. She’s just wearing shorts. Get a hold of yourself. 

Chris needs to think of something to divert the conversation. It's too awkward right now, and it's not helping when all he can think about is ripping your shorts off. 

“Ho-”

‘Yo-”

You both speak at the same time. Clearly, you are both trying to make the whole thing a little more comfortable. Both of you chuckle at the realization. 

“I really hope we can make this whole thing a little less awkward,” Chris says as you start packing the rest of the strawberries and putting the stems in the nearby trash can. 

“Me too,” you sigh.

“We’re friends! The only show we have to put on is for the camera”

******

This was a shit idea. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t function without a single thought leading back to you. And this “ruse” is going on for way too long. 

It's been 3 months. 3 whole months! 

But Chris couldn’t lie—it's been the best three months. You’ve both gotten so comfortable with each other that you’ve dedicated Fridays to movie night. Chris will sometimes bring your coffee order to you just because he knows you’d appreciate it, even if he doesn’t drink coffee himself. 

You’ve gotten to know each other so well and laughed so hard together that it just feels natural. 

He can’t help it. Even before this whole thing happened, he’d always watched you from afar, admired how hard you worked and how beautiful you were. But it was always that—a distant crush. 

Until this whole ordeal just planted itself right in his lap. He had to get close to you and take a chance with you. He didn’t care if it was fake. It was a chance. 

But tonight, he was cursing at himself for ever agreeing to this deal in the first place. 

It had been three months, so the public was starting to ask questions about when they were going to see you at an event…together. So, the marketing team decided that a red carpet-event was the perfect time to show you off to the public. 

Just a few pictures, maybe some conversations, but that's it. Then we’ll both be home, and we can just watch a movie. At least, that's what he thought. 

You both got ready separately because Chris had an interview an hour before the event. He was waiting by the front for your car to pull forward, and that's when you stepped out. 

His eyes widened, and his breath literally caught in his throat. Your dress was long and elegant, with one strap hanging loosely on your shoulder while the other was bare. It hugged your hips tightly to accentuate your best features. The slit was high, a little higher than you’d prefer, but it matched the theme of the dark red dress. The back of the dress was bare and reached down just before the curve of your ass. 

Chris took a long, low breath, trying to control the fighting urge inside him. He was staring at the way the dress flowed with every step you took; it was like you were walking on water with how graceful each heel clicked. 

“What?” 

He took his eyes off your legs and up to your doe eyes, which were smoky. It makes your eyes bright and glow. 

“N-nothing. I-” It was hard for him to form words. He knew you were beautiful; he thought about it every day, but he never saw you like this. He always saw you in either comfy clothes or your work clothes, never this. “You look beautiful.” 

He could see the natural blush from underneath your makeup, and he melted at the sight of your smile. 

“Shall we?” Chris held out his arm.

“We shall.” You took his arm, and he walked you inside the event. 

Easy peasy.

***

There were endless flashes and pictures, and reporters were screaming from one side to the other. You and Chris were being pulled from one background to another, everyone begging to get a picture of the happy couple. If only they knew. 

Chris was holding the middle of your back, smiling widely at each camera. Your body shivered from his touch. Surely he could feel the goosebumps across your skin. If he did, he didn’t let you know. His previous comment lingered in your mind, and it made your body warm with affection. 

He’s wearing a tailored black suit with just the jacket. It was styled so that he didn’t need a shirt to complement the jacket. It was high enough to cover everything but low enough to show his muscular chest. He stole your breath away—there's no better way to put it. 

His hold on you could be seen as endearing to the public eye, but you knew his tight hold felt different. It felt possessive. As he guided you from one area to another, his touch became more apparent to you. You could map out the roughness of the pads of his fingers, the feeling of the cold metal from his accessories, and how his palm rested fully on your skin. 

It sent tingles through your body, tingles you haven't felt in a while. 

At one point, he guided you to another photographer. Your smile falters, the exhaustion getting to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chris turn his head to look at you, studying you. You couldn’t see if he was smiling. All you could tell was that he was looking at you. The photographers must be eating this up. 

You focused on trying to keep your smile up until you felt the tip of Chris's finger tilt your chin in his direction. Your eyes meet, and your smile immediately fades. Thinking you did something wrong, you search his eyes, but all you see is warmth. Your worry fades, your lips part, and your mind goes blank. The noise of the photographer fades, the tightness of the dress disappears, and every little thing is gone, the only thing you can hear, see, and breathe is Chris. 

His eyes wander from you to your lips and back to your eyes, secretly asking for permission. It's for the camera. You tilt in your head, begging for him to lean in. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as Chris slowly leans in to graze his lips across yours. He presses a little hard to envelop your lips. His tongue slips across your bottom lip, and his hand on your back itches to touch you more. 

Loud cheers ultimately break up your little moment, and Chris quickly separates his lips from yours. The party mask slips back into action when his dimple smile appears and flashes towards the camera. 

A few more pictures and smiles and Chris quietly guides you out of the red carpet area—the feeling of his soft lips on your own leaves a tattooed memory in your brain. Finally, you and Chris are inside the elegant building. Art decorates each wall, and people mingle around, admiring the work of the artist, sharing conversations, and enjoying the drinks floating around by the staff. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I thought maybe it would be a good idea for the camera.” Chris is quick to answer any accusation that you didn’t have prepared. 

“Oh, yeah, you're right. It was a good move.” You try to seem calm and cool about what just happened. I mean, you are cool with what he did; you just wish it lasted longer. “For the camera.” 

“For the camera” the last few words come out breathy and soft by the both of you, not sure if either of you truly means it. 

“Chris!” shouts of his name come from afar, and you recognize the familiar faces. “Guys!” Chris gives his members a big hug, leaving you to follow close behind. You remember the ones who are here: Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix, all gather to greet Chris. 

You leave them to get caught up, knowing they’ve missed seeing each other. A waiter comes by, offering you a drink, and you take it with grace. You know there will be a driver taking you home tonight, so why not have a few drinks? You wander around, enjoying the sight of the beautiful art. 

Colors and interesting figures decorate each canvas. You read each name and study the painting, wanting to understand exactly what the artist was feeling when creating each masterpiece. 

You stop at a particular painting of a woman. She's surrounded by different shades of black and white, her body covered by just a sheet of cloth. Her bare shoulder and the side of her face are turned away from the view of the audience, seeming like she is trying to hide her naked figure. The cloth in question is splattered with all different shades of red. You examine the title of the piece, “Hidden Lust.”

“Interesting painting?” A voice startles you from behind. Chris stands behind you, examining the painting with you. 

You smile, returning to the painting. “How are the boys?”

“They’re good; they asked about you.” A smirk plays on his lips as he studies the painting alongside you. 

You hum and examine the brittle strokes of the painting. You both stand there in silence, admiring each delicate brush of paint. 

Once you hear Chris's steady breathing, all concentration on the painting goes out the window. You can practically feel it on your skin, sending tingles straight to your core. You and Chris stand a mere few inches apart, your hands twitching to touch. 

All thoughts of how the artist could be portrayed in the painting have left your mind; the only thing that haunts your mind is the feeling of Chris’s lips on yours. The fainted memory still makes your skin tingle and your core pound with need. Suddenly the breath you have been holding releases with a long sigh, and you can see Chris suck in a breath. 

Slowly, your head turns in his direction, and Chris does the same. You both hold eye contact for what feels like forever, silently sending each other hidden messages. The air between you is so thick it becomes hard to breathe. Your eyes dart down onto his lips, retaining the memory once again, imagining what his lips would feel like if they were placed on other parts of your body. 

“There’s the lucky couple!” your moment is broken once again, and Chris is left to greet more flooding guests. Once again, you're left to wander the walls…alone. 

***

Where did she go? He’s been roaming around this building for what feels like hours. If he wasn’t stopped every five minutes, maybe he could find you. 

It's not until he sees the dark, silky color of your dress he finally releases the breath he’s been holding. 

You're walking away from a painting and venturing off into another room filled with more art. He couldn't care less about the pieces hanging on the walls. He keeps thinking about that kiss. 

It was meant to be quick, and he meant to slide his thumb right between the two of you so that your lips wouldn’t touch. But the moment was too quick, and the camera was too bright, and before he knew it, your lips were touching. It was like kissing a flower petal, light and soft, and he craved more. He wanted to kiss you so that you would kiss back with the same passion he felt inside, but he couldn’t do that now, not when everyone was watching. He would take what he could get, even if it was just a small, simple kiss. 

Leaving the cameras, he could see the confusion on your face, and worry settled in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have done that, not without asking you first, not with cameras taking pictures of your every move, not when the whole world was watching. That's why he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

I’m such an idiot, he thought to himself. 

Calm and frantic battle in his body with each step he takes to you. This room is filled with sculptures on every corner, and smaller paintings hang. The last few people leave the room so that it's just you and Chris. He sees you studying a sculpture of two people holding each other in an embrace. The two mold together with a shared kiss, and what looks to be water made of stone surrounds them. It's quite beautiful, but the person looking at the art piece is even more stunning. His mind screams with the need to feel your lips on his once again, but he forces himself to stand next to you in silence, pretending as if he cares about the art piece in front of him. 

“I’m sorry I keep getting pulled away.” He whispers as he slides next to you. 

“No need to apologize; you're famous, and people want to meet you.” He can tell you’re holding something back. He’s only known you for a few months, but it feels like years to him. 

“Still, I came here with you. I should be at least spending some time with you,” he can’t help but look at you, at the way your features react to his words, the way your chest rises and falls as you breathe, and the way your nails pick at each other. You're holding something back, and it's killing him inside. “Did I-... Did I make you uncomfortable… with that kiss?”

His question physically takes you aback. He's trying to read you, trying to predict what you’ll say next. Everything runs through his mind: you slapping him, you yelling at him, you kissing him-

“No, of course not.” Chris breathes out a sigh. “It's just-” your eyes wander, and his body stiffens…again. “I-” you attempt to say something, “...nothing,” but your mouth shuts, and your attention is back on the sculpture. 

Knowing he didn’t make you uncomfortable eases him, but not knowing what's on your mind makes his mind wander. If he didn’t make you uncomfortable, what could possibly be going on in that pretty head of yours?

“Y/N” Chris grabs hold of your arms to turn you to face him. “Please, tell me what's on your mind, or else I might lose mine.”

You suck in a breath and open your mouth to say something. “I just…” your eyes wander once again, but Chris quickly takes his other hand to caress his thumb over your jaw, bringing your attention back onto him. “I just really want-”

“Bahng! There you are!” a tall man with spikey black hair holds his arms out. His suit blinds the both of you as his sequined suit sparkles in the light.

“Oh my god, I’m going to end up in jail tonight if we don’t get out of here soon.” his comment makes you laugh, and his body melts at the sound. 

I can’t wait till I finally get you alone. 

*****

Hours later, you are finally home, out of that tight dress, and your hair is free. You're relaxing on the couch, watching as the rain carelessly falls out the window. You thought a nice cup of tea would help the cloud of thoughts in your mind, and then you thought the rain would help, but so far, nothing has helped. 

The way Chris spoke earlier replays in your mind like a constant dream. The way he touched you, the way his eyes bored into your soul. You were so close to confessing that you wanted more than just a simple kiss; he made you want more of him. 

Now you're here, dreading if he walks out here and the awkwardness is back up. You both worked so hard to become comfortable with each other, and you don’t want that awkward tension to fill the room again. 

You hear the door creak open, signaling that Chris is out of the shower. He comes out in a pair of sweats and a loose shirt, rubbing a towel over his drenched hair. 

“You’re still up,” he says surprised. 

“Yeah, can’t sleep. Must be leftover adrenaline from tonight.” that's a lie. It's because stupid Chris won't stay out of your stupid mind. 

He nods his head, and you go back to staring blankly out the window. Thick silence, so thick it could be cut with a knife. You could feel the nerve on the end of your skin, and you pray that Chris doesn’t notice. 

“Back at the gala, you were about to say something.” 

You whip your head around, seeming dumbfounded. “Oh, I-” How do I get out of this? “I don’t remember” 

He slumps, looking defeated. “Oh, I see.” The pout on his lips makes your insides turn and ache. What did he want to hear?

“Do you…want to watch a movie?” his innocent question makes you smile. “Sure, I'd like that.” 

***

This was pointless. It's not like you’re actually paying attention to the movie. Your mind is clouded with doubts and thoughts, and Chris just sits there, enjoying the mindless action movie you guys agreed on. 

He’s so focused on what's playing on the screen. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes glow with every loud explosion, and his brows furrow every time a character takes a hit. It’s fun to study him, it's more entertaining than this damn movie….I wonder if all he’s thinking is about the movie.

***

Why the fuck does she keep looking at me? Do I have something on my face? Maybe she can see right through me and tell that I’ve been thinking about her? Can girls do that?

It is taking every bit of will he has left in his body for Chris to keep looking at this damn movie. He stopped paying attention halfway through it because he got a glimpse of your bare thigh. You're wearing shorts again, and it might actually kill him this time. God, he wants to touch you so badly. He wants to rake his hands through your thighs. He wants you to pull his hair and guide him over your body. He wants you to show him what makes you scream, and then he wants to make you scream his name-

“Do you know what's going on? Because I think I’m lost.” 

Chris snaps his head in your direction…shit.

“Uhh…well…you see the guy he… yea, I haven’t really been paying that much attention,” he breathes out a sigh of defeat. 

“Really! You looked like you were really paying attention.” if only you knew. “I guess I just kind of zoned out,” he scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“What were you thinking about?” your voice sounds so hopeful, but he can’t stop thinking about you running out of the apartment the second he confesses. 

“Oh…nothing” 

“Oh,” you went from hopeful to disappointment with a single word, and it made his chest ache. You both sit in silence for a beat too long, watching the movie unfold before you. 

He can’t bear the silence. It feels like that first week all over again, and it's killing him inside. “Looks like the storm is passing pretty quickly.”

Your head snaps to him with a quirked eyebrow. You stare at his unphased face for what feels like an eternity…then…The room fills with your laughter. “You want to talk about the weather?”

“Uhh”

More sounds of laughter crowd the room. “What?” he's in utter shock. What could possibly be so funny right now?

“Nothing. Yes, it does look like it's dying down,” but it’s laced with sarcasm; anyone can hear it, Chris, most of all. 

His hooded eyes look down at you with a ‘serious’ look. “What?” Your hands are thrown up in surrender. 

“Nothing,” he matches with the same tone.

He’s met with your giggles. The light shift of the mood makes his smile wide, and finally, he’s at ease. Finally, you smile again, and the awkward tension dissipates. 

Your body stretches in a long yawn, and in doing so, it inches closer to Chris. Over time, your head falls onto Chris’s shoulder, relaxing into his warmth. 

Chris’s body is on fire. Every nerve and sense is hyper-aware of your every move; it's like he can feel you without the barrier of his clothes. 

His eyes look down, watching you rest in his comfort. He feels like a teenager again, experiencing his first crush. He can feel butterflies in his stomach, and his palms begin to sweat. No one has ever made him feel this nervous.

Your shirt dips down just below the swell of your breasts, and he curses at himself for even looking. He hates the fact that your body has so much control over him, but he loves it at the same time. He thinks about all the ways your body could torture him. Your body wrapped in fragile lingerie that he could rip with his teeth, your naked body underneath him, fully exposed for him-

“Oh my god.” 

You’re both startled apart from each other. Chris only takes a minute to follow your shocked eyes down to the prominent tent forming at his pants. 

Shit.

“I- um,” Chris scrambles to find a pillow or blanket to cover his bulge. How could this happen now of all times? He expects to hear your screams, your words of disgust, or something that results in him leaving the apartment with his head hung low in shame. But more laughter echoes around the room, and he sees you turned over, holding your belly with giggles.  

“I would apologize, but it looks like you're enjoying my embarrassment.” 

“It's not that,” your voice cracks with laughs. “I just was surprised. I know you can’t control it.” more laughter fills the room. If only you weren’t laughing at his embarrassment, he would actually enjoy hearing your giggles. 

“I have more control than that,” Chris scoffs. 

“Then what is it?” You look at him, your smile still shining, while his fades. This is his chance; it's now or never. You could either lock yourself in your room, and he could never see you again, or he could be the happiest man alive. 

He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking about…our kiss”. 

***

You wish you could say you had an immediate reaction, that you jumped into his arms the second he mentioned you, but you were dumbstruck. Your eyes were shot, and your lips parted in a silent gasp. 

“I guess it was a good kiss.” Chris shrugged, his smile mimicking a quiet laugh. 

“It was.” You recall the memory, and instinctively, you wet your lips. Chris holds your gaze, not letting you run or cower away again. 

The two of you are engaged in a silent battle, each waiting for the other to give in and address the unspoken tension between you. However, you refuse to be the first to make a move, unwilling to risk misinterpreting the situation.

Your breathing becomes shallow and heavy, “I should go to bed,” but you have no intention of moving. Rather than moving, you stay perfectly still, gazing at Chris, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

Chris inches closer, leaning into you. “Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.” 

Another moment of silence settles in the air. His espresso eyes contrast with his pale skin, entrapping you, unable to move, speak, or breathe. His hand comes up to caress your cheek and moves a strand of hair away from your face. “Tell me you don’t feel what I feel,” he says.

Your breath is thick and trapped, and words never make it past your lips. All you can do is communicate with your eyes and beg for him to understand your silence. “I need you to tell me, baby”.

Already breathy and chest heaving with need, you nod your head rapidly and stutter out a “yes.” 

Within seconds, Chris's lips are on yours. It's nothing like the previous kiss you shared; this one is hungry, desperate, and has shallow breaths stolen when your lips part but immediately back as if they have been deprived and starved.  

His hands cup your face, deepening the kiss. You can feel his tongue silently ask permission, sliding along your bottom lip. You steal another breath, which Chris takes as an opportunity to push his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He swallows your pleasurable moans as your hands tug and pull him closer to your body. 

Heat radiates off of him like lust steaming off his body, and you can feel his muscles tense when you rake your hands over his clothes, begging him to remove his shirt.

Chris uses his body weight to push your back flat against the couch; he lodges his leg between your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing against your core. The sudden tension makes you groan into Chris’s mouth, which he devours.  

He keeps the tension on your core, slightly rubbing his thigh against it every now and again. When his hands move down, one to grasp you by your hip and another to fondle your breast is when you separate your lips to release the sudden gasp, all the while, you arch your back.

His grip on your hip tightens, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” his words rasp into your ear, sending shockwaves down every nerve in your body.  

His hands hold you close to his body, and all the while, his eyes wander. Words blend into moans and whimpers as Chris keeps your burning core stimulated with his thigh. “How do you want it, baby?” His voice buzzes in your ear, and it shoots straight to your gut, making you needy and excited for more. 

“Tell me what you want.” your hands shoot into Chris’s hair, tugging and angling his head so you can kiss him again. You just want him, all of him. With your tongue plunged into his mouth, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thigh moves so his hips join with yours, pushing his growing bulge against your thumping core.

Your lips part and open to say something, but Chris adds more pressure to his hips, pushing his erection against you. What you were going to say dies on your tongue, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “I want you so bad,” he growls, hiding his rosy cheeks in the crook of your neck. His hips find a slow rhythm, grinding both your clothed cores against each other. 

“Chris,” you moan his name, and you can feel his groin twitch against his pants. Your positive Chris can smell your arousal dripping from you. The wet spot thats gathered at the base of your panties is evidence of it. 

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more of him. He hums in your shoulder before biting the flesh. The sudden pain causes your face to contort, but it quickly subsides as you feel Chris’s tongue soothing the mark, leaving a beautiful love bite behind.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot” Your mind is fuzzy with how Chris is grinding his erection into you. 

Without warning, Chris pulls his body up, only to crawl down between your legs. He makes quick work of ridding your lower clothing. Leaving you bare in front of him. Your pussy clenches from his intense stare, and your face heats when he realizes it. “What? Do I make you nervous when I stare?”

You can feel the heat of his breath against your folds. It makes you clench around nothing…and he smirks at the sight. 

Chris starts to kiss your thighs, inching closer to your dripping pussy. Finally, relief washes over you as Chris wets your lips with his tongue. Your hand goes back into Chris’s hair, tugging him closer. 

You bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet as his wet muscle swirls around your swollen bundle of nerves. You hold back your screams of pleasure, not willing just yet to let him hear you. 

“Are you holding back?” Chris peaks up from between your legs. Your hips follow him, begging for him to continue. You both meet eyes, and he can tell you’ve been holding back your screams from him. “Don’t. I want to hear you. I want the neighbors to know my name,” and with that, he dives back between your legs, attacking your clit like there is no tomorrow. 

You scream his name in pleasure, grinding your hips onto him. Chris works in tandem in sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue inside your walls. 

Within minutes your coating his chin with your juices and moaning at the relief in your body. Your orgasm washes over you, but that doesn’t stop Chris. He loves the way your pussy tastes. The sweetness he can feel on his tongue electrifies his whole body. 

“Chris, I- ahg -wait, I can’t” Chris keeps his previous pace, sucking your clit and looping his tongue inside your folds. 

“Come for me, baby. You’ve done so well.” Chris slides his middle finger past your wet folds, curling it up so it hits the gummy spot that makes you see stars. Your legs begin to shake, and your whole body convulses at the added feeling. 

“Chris!” you scream his name as your second orgasm squirts onto his shirt. Your legs shut close, and Chris removes himself from between them. He jumps up to kiss your forehead and lips gently. “You did so well for me, baby. I’ve got you,” he coos softly. 

One of his hands rubs soft circles on your hips, biding them open again. The ache of overstimulation subsides and your legs begin to open again. Chris kisses your forehead gently one last time, a smirk clear on his face. 

 Lost in lust, you tug off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and defined body. Your eyes go wide, but Chris takes your lips in a hurried kiss. You rake your hand down his pecks to his abs, stopping just before where his V-line meets the button of his pants. You break the kiss to find that his face is contorted to what looks like pain. Worry shoots through you, but Chris snaps his eyes open and cages you below him, his arms on either side of your head, “no one has ever touched me like that.” he breathes…” Do it again.”

***

You both tugged at each other, prying more clothes off your bodies and ending up in your current position. You straddling his lap, rubbing your bare cunt against his cock.

Logic and reason left your mind when Chris had you quivering over his tongue. “Y/N, shouldn’t we-” 

But you didn’t want to wait another second. You lifted your lips to guide your folds onto Chris’s waiting cock. You both groan at the pleasure. 

Immediately, you start swirling your hips, chasing that pleasure. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you clenched at his words. You cling to his words. You hope those words are true, even after this night, after this whole contract thing is over. You don’t want this to end. You hug yourself close to his body, grasping his shoulders, and you can tell by the way he holds you close that he’s thinking the same thoughts as you. 

You lift your hips slowly only to let yourself settle back down onto his cock. You both relish the feeling, not wanting it to be over too soon; You set a measured pace. 

You can see the sweat trickle down Chris’s forehead. His hands claw the flesh of your ass, willing himself not to ram into you. The last thing he wants is for this to end too quickly, and he’ll be damned if he comes before you do. 

A mixture of moans and grunts fills the room. Your hips have a mind of their own as they begin to grind into him at a more steady pace. Your nails leave red marks on his shoulders, “I want to see you, want to watch you come,” Chris grunts out. 

Something within you snaps. You don’t know if it was his words or the growing knot twisting inside you, but with his words, you lift your hips and slam down onto his cock. You set a brutal pace, bousing on top of him. Chris grinds his teeth but wills his eyes open so he can watch your perfect tits bounce. 

You are both lost in the pleasure of each other, and both of you try to chase your release. Chris’s hands grip your waist like a vice, helping you lift your hips in tandem with his thrusts. 

“God, you feel so fucking good.” His thrusts become frantic, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix perfectly. With a few more final thrusts into you, you were coming undone onto his cock. Screaming his name and leaving scratch marks against his abs. 

His cock plunged desperately in and out of your spasming, creaming cunt, using your body shamelessly for his own euphoric release. The harsh sounds of skin slapping skin and shattered moans and muffled curses echoed off the walls as Chris pushed his cock into you and coated your inner walls white. 

You both stilled, with heavy and shaky breathing being the only forms of communication you could muster. 

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, and your mind was nothing but a pile of mush. It was once you opened your eyes and realized you had been moved, cleaned, and tucked into your own bed did you realize that you passed out in Chris’s arms. 

You expected to wake up in his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen. You were left in your own room, alone and cold. 

“Chris?” you called, hoping what you experienced wasn’t a dream, that it was real. It sure felt real. Your legs and pussy were still sore just thinking about it. 

Worry begins to settle in. What if you did imagine all of it? What if you're back to a feeling that's all too familiar, with uncomfortable tension that sends shivers down your spine and nights filled with longing for what could have been?

“Look who’s finally up.” You turned your head to your door frame, where Chris was holding a bag of food in one hand. 

You could feel your shoulders relax, “what, you didn’t think I dish you after one night, did you?” he came closer, setting the bag to the side. 

“No, just got me worried.” Chan comes brings his hand up to caress your cheek and you lean into his touch. 

*Chris*

You both knew what was coming. Now that the tension has spoken for itself, what does that mean for the both of you?

Chris sits himself on the edge of your bed, taking a breath for what he’s about to say, but you speak first. 

“What does this mean now? Is the contract still in place?” 

His ears perk up and his eyes widen. He wasn’t about to let you go, no now, not ever. “I’ll be honest. I like you… a lot.” a chuckle escapes him “and I don’t want this to be the end. But I also don’t want to push you, if you don’t want the same.-”

“I do” you interrupt him. Your cheeks flush with that pretty pink that makes him melt and your smile shines high which makes his chest fill with a warmth he’s never felt before. 

“You do?”

“I like you too, I wouldn’t have done what we did if I didn’t. And honestly, I could give two shits about the contract right now” you chuckle with him. 

“Then how about this…” he twists his body so he can comfortably face you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “a new contract, physically binding.” he smiles, but suddenly changes his tone to a more serious one, “I promise to make you laugh, I promise to piss the hell out of you, but make it up to you, to make you smile, to bug the hell out of you, and I promise that as long as I call you mine, I will love you with all of me.”

Your smile stretches miles and you shake his hand. With heartfelt sincerity, you speak, “I promise to always find ways to bring a smile to your face and fill the air with laughter. I promise to make mistakes, but find ways for you to forgive me, I also promise to love every part of you even the parts you may seem unlovable.” Your voice is so angelic as if it’s softly whispering into his ear. 

You both share a tender kiss, feeling the warmth of each other's embrace. As your lips meet, a rush of emotions overcomes you, and you find yourselves entwined in each other's arms. The soft touch of your partner's skin against yours creates an intimate and comforting atmosphere. As you lay in bed, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in each other's love. In this moment, you both find solace in the knowledge that no matter what challenges life may present, you have each other to lean on.

[parisoonic]

How the hell do you manage to superimpose the hilariously exagerated proportions of the tf2 mercs into a cohesive 2d style? I always struggle SO much with like, the way the mercs' models have huge hands, the way they have relatively low-poly definition on things like arms, shoulders, and legs... and Especially the way like, the models are kinda janky when you pose them for art purposes- when using movement tools, things like armpits and seams between body parts get all deformed... Which makes the study of form and silhouette rather difficult.

I assume that a lot of your ability to translate the concept of the mercs from their original mediums into your own works of art comes to you quite naturally- through experience you have with drawing and art style stuff, as well as through intuition. I was simply wondering if I could poke at your mind and get some insight into your process, any thoughts you have about the proportions and silhouettes of the mercs, any quirks you've found while drawing the mercs, or simply what you enjoy drawing about them. Like, don't be afraid to infodump about something just because you think people wouldn't find it interesting- I am here, I am sitting, and I am listening- if you so choose to speak.

I am utterly fascinated and enraptured by the more behind-the-scenes aspect of art. The mundane things that come second nature to great artists yet seem so revolutionary to less experienced artists.

I love your work, I look forward to seeing more of it, and I hope you have a nice day :]

Sorry for the late reply! I've been a little…stuck on how to answer this but that's mainly because to me, drawing is composed of SO many different little skills - you have form, anatomy, shape language, silhouette, appeal, rhythm, acting and posing…not to mention everything AFTER your raw draughtmanship like line style, rendering and colour theory. Trying to distill a multiude of small skills into some pithy advice is overwhelming to my brain. So I'll take the invitation to ramble instead :))

I don't think I have any new or revolutionary insight into the tf2 guys specifically - more I'm using them as work horses to excercise general silhouette/posing/shape-language and further my skills when it comes to drawing characters!

I do agree though the proportions are rather silly when you stop and think about them realistically…they can be kinda tricky if you follow their 'actual' proportions. what looks great individually was maybe never meant to be directly compared (ie: Heavy's hand size against Spy's lol). It would've been funny if the TV show exsisted and we had more content to review…would the animators have had rules like Spy and Heavy can never shake hands? Would they cheated the proportions for shots? Or would they have said WHATVER it's gonna look weird and embraced it? (Like Kingpin in Spiderverse lol)

Paul Lasaine for 'Into the Spiderverse' This is AWESOME. But it's also one of the silliest designs I've ever seen comitted to screen. The varied scales of the characters work because of the unifying treatment (lighting, rendering, consistant hand anatomy, consistant cxlothing fold treatment etc) and because they are sort of proportional within themselves. A common manta is that hands should be about as large as a characters face....which they all are here!

Human brains are very flexible and forgiving though. It's totally fine for you to put a character with huge hands and head next to a teeny tiny character! Vanellope and Ralph from Wreck-It Ralph look grand next to each other! And in that film you even have varying levels of stylisation sitting against each other (unified by the look dev treatment of the shaders and lighting). I think as long as the chracter is proportional within themselves it sort of works out. IE: a general rule is that a hand should be as large as the face so…you can have some large arse hands as long as their placed on a body with a big arse head. Unifying characters with the same treatment (ie: lineart brush, colouring style will also help them look cohesive next to each other :) )

I don't actually reference the 3D models/animations very much at all and instead draw their proportions based on my tastes for stylisation following their general vibes/silhouette profiles. I don't stick THAT close to their in-game looks and there are artists who do that are so so so much better than me (Creedei and Flapjack come to mind). I'm not amazing at body-type differentation and TBH they're all wearing chunky clothes all the time so I usually draw the guys as one-of-three body shapes: Heavy is the uniquely wide guy; Sniper/Scout/Spy are all tall and slim and Demo/Soldier/Medic/Engie have a little more of the generic 'hero' bodytype with varying tallness and broadness of the shoulders

Something like this! You can vary all these individual elements in terms of size, thickness, taper amount etc to create different characters. If you ARE going to reference the 3d works though you'll need to apply some anatomy knowledge to overcome the weird shoulders, armpits and knees which desperately need blendshapes to correct the 3D volumes and approach it a little more like an animation supervisor. There's a reason why you see in making-ofs and art-ofs character designers, character leads or animation supes doing drawovers of the models. These are character models that have had great effort put into their 'base' silhouette but it still needs to be reinforced in every frame for maximum appeal.

Shiyoon Kim for 'Raya' This sort of thing will occur at multiple stages during the animation process. Shiyoon Kim's notes are post final model but pre-animation. Most likely for internal rig tests, exploring what blend shapes and alt shapes are needed for the rigs etc. If your production has time, this will continue all the way to final anim. IF! But it's interesting to see how he emphasises the shapes and enhances the character acting of the 3d model.

As for 'mundane things' - I wouldn't say they're second nature! (If that makes you feel better!) I have to actively really persue certain advice and try to figure out how to best apply it. This can sometimes involve redrawing and redrawing an element of the drawing until I've grasped the nettle of whatever I'm after or…..until I get frustrated and either delete the drawing or just call it done lol

Here, I'm looking for a really specific flow of the head that sells both the acting and a subtle head tilt. I'm also trying to apply the general mantra regarding faces that converging lines (set by the eyebrows and mouth) are more appealing than parallel. It's tough! I also tend to use a drawing I've already done as a template/reference on the page too. Oh! This page is an amazing example of why I'm not an animator or storyboarder…consistancy? Who is she? 💅

Converging lines (that form tapered shapes) are always more appealing than parallel. Using this logic you can loft the facial features across converging lines to create dynamic appealing espressions. Combining this with anatomy, perspective and rotation is the tough part though. I'm still learning o7

The things I probably think about MOST are always flats vs curves, simple vs complex and general line of action/flow...and then eliminting tangents. Each of these can be a dedicated visual-essay on their own - hence my stumbling as to answer your question. Anyhow, not sure if it's ever come up on this blog but I looove dinosaurs :)) so i'm using a wee piece to demostrate these ideas! (but also to demostrate these concepts apply to everything from humans characters to animals, props and background design)

Okay, I'm getting self-aware that this is getting really long :') I have a wee tutorial tag for my blog if anyone wants to comb through my garbled art-thoughts. Learning, studying, repetition and practice will always be the greatest teachers! I'm glad you like my art- thank you so much for the lovely comments - I feel like such a noob still and not qualified to give people advice but we're in it together learning! High-five! 🙌

[emjayewrites]

Green With Envy - Jules Kounde

SYNOPSIS: Jules' girl doesn't like all of the attention he's getting at Paris Fashion Week, so he'll have to convince her that he's hers and only hers.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS: cursing, explicit smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @perfecttrashface @peyiswriting @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @f1-football-fiend

A/N: I've been inspired recently. Enjoy.

Jules had been getting attention all night.

The moment the two of you walked into the Messika show for Paris Fashion Week, you could feel the eyes on him—on both of you—but mostly on him. Women in the audience whispered, some not even bothering to be discreet as they watched him in his perfectly tailored trousers and that damn draped satin shirt that hugged his frame just right. The fabric glistened under the soft lighting, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist. And why wouldn’t they? He looked like he’d just stepped off a runway himself, his locs freshly twisted and falling perfectly over his forehead, framing his sharp jawline that was more striking than ever in the ambient glow of the event.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear during the show, his breath warm against your skin. “You good, bébé?” His voice was low and intimate, but the attention surrounding him made your stomach twist.

You forced a smile, nodding, but inside, you were fuming. It wasn’t him—it was them. The women thirsting after your man, acting like you didn’t exist as they openly ogled him, their eyes filled with a mix of admiration and envy. Their hushed conversations were a cacophony of longing, and the way they leaned forward in their seats, straining to catch another glimpse of him, only added fuel to the fire of your jealousy. Even online, you knew the comments were wild, your phone buzzing non-stop with mentions of Jules’ presence at the show. Each notification felt like a jab, a reminder of how easily they could forget you were right there beside him.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Jules asked again, his hand resting on your thigh, sensing the tension radiating from you. His thumb brushed over your skin in slow, calming circles, an effort to ease your frustration, but the touch only made the simmering jealousy worse. You knew it wasn’t fair to feel this way—Jules wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was always clear that he was yours and only yours, a fact he reiterated with every kiss and every possessive glance. But the burning jealousy still gripped you tight, a knot of insecurity forming in your chest as you watched the other women flirt and fawn over him.

As the show came to an end, the lights dimmed and applause erupted, but the crowd continued to linger, and as you stood to leave, another woman’s gaze lingered far too long on him. Her eyes raked over him, and Jules caught it, smirking as if he relished the attention. He placed a possessive hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the exit, a silent declaration of ownership that sent a mix of pride and irritation coursing through you. His subtle way of letting everyone know who he belonged to didn’t stop the clench in your chest, though; if anything, it only deepened your frustration.

In the car ride back to the hotel, the tension bubbled over, and you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You know, I could’ve sworn some of these girls thought they had a chance tonight,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but the edge of jealousy was impossible to hide.

Jules glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed your words. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t see the way they were looking at you? The way they didn’t care that I was right there?” Your voice wavered slightly, a mixture of annoyance and vulnerability creeping in as you struggled to articulate your feelings.

Jules chuckled, shaking his head, a teasing smile still dancing on his lips. “Bébé, I don’t care about any of them.” His easygoing tone was meant to soothe you, but it only made the frustration simmer deeper.

You huffed, crossing your arms defiantly, the tension in your body evident. “It didn’t look like it,” you shot back, unable to mask the bite in your voice. The laughter and playful banter that had filled the car moments ago felt like a distant memory as the weight of your jealousy hung heavy between you.

His laughter faded abruptly, and the air in the car shifted, thickening with unspoken words. Jules’ gaze darkened, the playful glint replaced by something more serious. His jaw set tight, and he turned toward you, his expression intense. “You think I care about what any of them think? About how they look at me?” His voice was low, almost dangerous, each word deliberate as if he were trying to penetrate through your frustration.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks under the intensity of his stare. “I just—” you began, but the words caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to express your feelings.

“I don’t give a fuck about them,” he cut you off, his voice firm and unyielding. There was a rawness to his tone that sent a spark of heat through you, igniting a mix of emotions—desire, possessiveness. “All I care about is you.”

The rest of the car ride was silent, the tension thick between you. But as soon as the door to your hotel suite shut behind you, Jules was on you, his lips crashing into yours, hot and urgent. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

“You think I care about them?” he growled against your lips, his breath hot, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you with a hunger that made your head spin. “You think I want anyone but you?”

“Jules…” you gasped, your hands clinging to his shoulders, but he wasn’t giving you a chance to speak. His lips were on your neck now, sucking, nipping at your skin in a way that made your knees buckle.

He didn’t stop. “You’re mine,” he muttered, his hands slipping beneath your dress, roughly pulling it up over your hips. “And I’m yours. Always.”

Your breath hitched as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down, his body pressing into yours. His dark, hooded eyes were locked on yours, filled with nothing but raw desire.

“You need me to prove it to you?” Jules asked, his voice low and rough as he undid his belt, letting his trousers drop to the floor. His shirt was still on, clinging to his muscular frame, but the sight of him half-dressed was even more erotic than if he’d been naked.

You bit your lip, nodding, your body already aching for him. “Show me.”

Jules didn’t waste a second. His hands moved quickly, yanking your dress down, your bra and panties following soon after. When you were bare beneath him, he paused for a moment, his eyes roaming your body like he was drinking you in. Then he was on you again, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them.

He thrust into you hard, no preamble, just filling you completely with his thick dick. The stretch of him inside you had your back arching, a loud moan escaping your lips as your nails dug into his back through his shirt.

“Say it,” he growled, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with deep, relentless strokes. The bed creaked beneath you as the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your hands clenching in the silky fabric of his shirt, your breath coming in ragged pants as he fucked you deeper, his dick hitting spots that made your vision blur.

“And who am I?” he asked, his voice low, almost a snarl, his pace quickening as his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

“You’re mine,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your body teetering on the edge of release.

“That’s right,” he grunted, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders, bending you almost in half as he drove into you harder, deeper, the new angle making you cry out as he hit that spot inside you over and over again.

“Fuck, Jules!” you screamed, your body shaking as the pressure inside you built, your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“You’re mine,” he growled again, his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder as he pounded into you, his thrusts wild now, reckless. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours!” you moaned, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm ripped through you, your entire body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Jules followed you over the edge, his grip on your hips bruising as he gave one final, deep thrust before he came, groaning your name as he filled you, his body collapsing onto yours.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, your bodies tangled together, your breathing heavy. Then Jules pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your stomach.

“You thought I was done?” he muttered, his voice still thick with lust as he pushed your ass up, positioning you on all fours.

“Jules, baby…” you gasped, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm as he slid his dick back inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he fucked you from behind, harder this time, faster.

His grip was possessive, his pace punishing as he drove into you, the sound of your bodies crashing together echoing through the room. You could feel every inch of him, his length stretching you in ways that had your head spinning.

“You’ll never have to worry about anyone else,” he growled, a wicked grin on his face as his hand came down to slap your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp.

“Fuck!” you cried out, your body trembling again as he fucked you, your mind going blank from the pleasure. Jules pressed his hand against your face, burying you deeper into the mattress as he positioned his foot near you for a better angle. The pressure on your throat was just enough, not enough to stop your airway but enough to have your eyes rolling back from the overwhelming sensation. His free hand dug into the flesh of your ass, the heat radiating off his body mixing with the sweat that dripped down onto you, sliding between your ass cheeks and thighs.

“Look at you,” he rasped, thrusting deeper, harder, the primal rhythm sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The moans escaping your lips filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Tu es magnifique...."

He continued to ramble off in French, but you were too focused on the coil within your stomach that threatened to come apart. Just when you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for more.

“Turn around, ma belle. Open your mouth.”

Completely sex-dazed, you obeyed, stumbling to kneel in front of him as he stroked his dick, his eyes dark with desire. You watched him, entranced, as he released himself, his hot cum coming in spurts, splattering on your face and neck.

He held the reddened tip near your mouth, and without hesitation, your tongue came out, eager to lick off every drop of his essence, tasting the saltiness that was uniquely him. The moment felt electric, every bit of your submission feeding into the raw connection between you two.

Jules smirked down at you, his breath heavy and uneven, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “That’s my girl,” he said, the satisfaction evident in his voice as you savored every moment, every taste. “I meant what I said,” he whispered softly. “I’m all yours, bébé.”

You smiled, your heart finally at ease. “Good,” you whispered back, wiping off your chin with the back of your hand. “Because I’m not sharing.”

[maybe-im-dark]

Nocturnal

Wade burst through the door of their shared apartment, his usual swagger in full swing as he tossed his gear onto the floor. It had been a long day—bullets, blood, and chimichangas—but now, all he wanted was to kick back, harass Logan a bit, and maybe catch some terrible late-night TV with Blind Al. He flicked on the lights, ready to call out, but the words died in his throat the moment his gaze landed on Logan.

Logan was sitting on the couch, completely still, and for a brief second, Wade saw it—Logan's eyes flashed bright yellow, like the eyes of a predator caught in the light. Wade stumbled back, genuinely startled for once, heart pounding against his ribs.

"Holy chimichangas! What the fuck was that?!" Wade blurted out, one had instinctively reach for the katanas on his back.

Logan growled low in his throat, the sound almost vibrating in the dim room, and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “My eyes.”

Wade blinked, taking in the sight of Logan sprawled out on the couch, looking more annoyed than usual. “Have you been sitting here in the dark the whole time? How do you see anything? That’s like, serial killer behavior, dude.”

Logan leaned back against the cushions, unbothered by Wade’s theatrics. “I see just fine. Don’t know why you felt the need to brighten the whole goddamn room.”

Wade paused, narrowing his eyes, studying Logan in the harsh light. “Wait… You’ve got, like, the whole tapetum lucidum thing going on, don’t you?”

Logan’s brow furrowed, the irritation clear in his voice. “The hell are you talking about now?”

Wade waved his hands excitedly, pacing back and forth, the pieces falling into place with every step. “You know, the tapetum lucidum! It’s that reflective layer in the eyes that gives animals night vision! Like cats and wolves and shit. It makes their eyes glow when light hits them. That’s why yours lit up just now. That’s why you’re always lurking around in the dark like Batman on a bad day!”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples as if Wade’s voice physically pained him. “Yeah, well. Maybe I see better at night. What’s it to you?”

Wade’s face lit up, his excitement bubbling over as he dropped down onto the couch beside Logan, way too close, practically vibrating with energy. “Dude, this is amazing! You’re like… an actual nocturnal predator! That explains so much. No wonder you’re always pacing around at night, growling and glaring at the moon or whatever it is you do when I’m not around. You’re a damn apex predator who can’t sit still when it’s dark out!”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smirk tugging at his lips. “You just figuring this out now?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wade demanded, leaning in closer, eyes wide with fascination. “I mean, this is important roommate information! Like, what if you decided to go full feral one night and chew on my leg or something? Shouldn’t I be warned about these things?”

Logan’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had someone chewing on you.”

Wade blinked, and then burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained. “You know what? Fair point, fair point. But seriously, does this mean you, like, prefer to hunt in the moonlight? Are you secretly prowling around rooftops while I’m snoring my ass off?”

Shaking his head, Logan settled back into the couch with a sigh. “I don’t hunt. Not anymore. But yeah, I can see just fine in the dark. And if I’m up late, it’s ’cause my body doesn’t care much for sleep. Comes with the territory.”

Wade’s usual banter fell silent for a moment, his expression softening as he watched Logan. For once, his voice dropped, more genuine than Logan had ever heard him. “You know, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with being what you are.”

Logan glanced over, caught off guard by the sincerity in Wade’s tone. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to anyone looking at him like he wasn’t just a weapon, wasn’t just some feral beast waiting to be unleashed. “Maybe,” Logan muttered, looking away, a flicker of vulnerability showing through.

But Wade, being Wade, wasn’t about to let the moment stay heavy for long. His grin returned, wide and unapologetic. “Well, if you ever feel the urge to go hunting, just give me a heads-up. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way. Or… maybe I’ll join you. I’m pretty good at prowling around at night too, you know.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “You’d scare off everything within a mile radius, Wade.”

“And yet, here you are,” Wade pointed out with a smirk. “Still haven’t managed to get rid of me.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and genuine, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

They sat there in a comfortable silence, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. Wade, ever the troublemaker, leaned in, whispering with a conspiratorial tone. “Just so you know, if you ever want to glow at me again, I’m totally into it.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but the faint smile stayed, lingering at the corners of his mouth. “Idiot.”

And for once, Logan felt like maybe, just maybe, there was someone who understood—someone who saw the animal in him and wasn’t afraid.

[writeriguess]

Can you do part 2 for that story where Bakugo is in denial for his feelings for reader and reader confesses her feelings. How it progresses from that???

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with everything unsaid. You stayed patient, your soft gaze unwavering, waiting for him to process what you’d just laid bare. It wasn’t the confession you expected—he wasn’t the type to take things like this lightly—but that was okay. You weren’t rushing him. If anything, you knew Bakugo needed time to wrap his head around the idea of someone genuinely liking him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes still wide in shock, as though his brain couldn’t quite catch up with his heart. You watched him carefully, every flicker of emotion playing out across his face—a rare sight, considering how tightly he kept his emotions under lock and key.

The clatter of a dish being cleaned in the back of the restaurant broke the quiet. The once-bustling atmosphere had dwindled, leaving only the two of you at the table. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, making the space feel smaller, more intimate.

You shifted slightly in your seat, resisting the urge to fill the silence with nervous chatter. Instead, you waited. Bakugo had never been one to rush into things he didn’t understand, and this—whatever was happening between you two—was something that went against everything he’d tried so hard to avoid.

You’d always known he was stubborn, but the way he was struggling with this was… endearing.

“Why…” His voice cracked, breaking the tension, though he still refused to look at you. “Why me?”

The vulnerability in his question caught you off guard. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the brash, arrogant, self-assured future number one hero—yet here he was, genuinely questioning why someone could care about him.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table as you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Why not you?”

He scowled, the familiar fire flaring behind his eyes. “That’s not an answer, dumbass.”

You bit your lip to suppress a chuckle. It was a fair point, and you figured you owed him more than that. “Because… you’re more than just some loud, angry guy who yells all the time.” You paused, your voice softening. “I’ve seen the way you care about your friends, even if you don’t show it in the usual way. I’ve seen how hard you push yourself, how much you want to be the best. You’re strong, but you’re also loyal, and you never give up, no matter how tough things get.”

Bakugo flinched at your words, his hands tightening into fists on his lap. You continued, letting the truth pour out with ease. “You may not realize it, but you’ve got this drive, this fire, that draws people in. That draws me in.”

He stared at you, eyes intense, searching for any hint of deceit. But there was none. Your words were genuine, and you weren’t trying to manipulate him or pull some prank. No, this was real—something raw and honest.

He shifted uncomfortably, still fighting the battle in his head. You could see it—his instinct to shut down, to push you away before you got too close. But you weren’t going anywhere. Not this time.

Bakugo finally let out a harsh breath, his voice low and strained. “I don’t know how to do this shit.”

“Do what?” you asked gently, tilting your head.

“This… this feelings crap,” he muttered, glaring at the table like it had somehow wronged him. “I don’t have time for distractions. I gotta be number one.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you didn’t back down. “I’m not asking you to give that up. I know how important it is to you. But… it’s okay to want more than just that. It’s okay to feel things.”

He clenched his jaw, clearly wrestling with himself, but your words seemed to be sinking in. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was letting his guard down.

Finally, he raised his eyes to meet yours, and for the first time, you saw something other than anger or frustration. There was fear there. Uncertainty. Like he didn’t know how to navigate this new territory.

“You… you make it hard to focus,” he admitted, the words tumbling out as if they’d been ripped from him against his will. His hand twitched, almost reaching for something—someone—but stopping halfway. “I hate it.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Feelings aren’t supposed to make sense.”

His scowl deepened, but there was no heat behind it. Instead, it felt like he was trying to protect himself, even now. “Tch. It’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, leaning in a little closer. “But that doesn’t make them any less real.”

The weight of your words hung between you, the air thick with the tension that had been building for weeks. You could see it in his eyes—the war he was waging with himself, the battle between his relentless drive for success and this unfamiliar, uncharted territory of emotions.

Bakugo’s hands finally unclenched, resting on the table as his shoulders slumped slightly. He looked… tired. Like he was exhausted from constantly fighting against something he couldn’t control.

You waited, giving him the space he needed to process, to come to his own conclusion. You didn’t need him to confess right then and there. All you wanted was for him to realize that it was okay to feel. To want something more.

Seconds passed like minutes. Bakugo’s gaze flickered between you and the table, his breath uneven as if he were bracing himself for something he wasn’t sure he could handle. Then, almost imperceptibly, he whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Your heart softened at the quiet admission, understanding washing over you. “You don’t have to know,” you said gently. “We’ll figure it out.”

For a moment, the tension between you eased, replaced by something far more fragile. Something real. Bakugo’s shoulders relaxed, just barely, as though the weight of his inner turmoil had lessened, if only slightly.

But then, he spoke again, his voice gruff but raw with honesty. “You’re… important. And I don’t know how to deal with that. But… I don’t want you to stop.”

The words were simple, but for him, they carried more weight than any declaration of affection ever could. He wasn’t good at this—at admitting he cared—but this was as close to a confession as you could expect from Bakugo Katsuki. And it was enough.

Your lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

Bakugo grunted, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he didn’t quite believe you, but the tension in his jaw eased. He still wasn’t looking directly at you, but his hand twitched again, this time moving just a bit closer to yours on the table.

You didn’t push him, didn’t force him to make the final leap. Instead, you gently shifted your hand, your fingers brushing against his ever so slightly. His breath hitched, and for a split second, he froze.

But then, slowly, hesitantly, Bakugo turned his hand over, letting your fingers intertwine with his.

It wasn’t much, but it was everything.

You could feel the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his palms from years of training. His grip was firm, but there was a tremor there—something unsure, something vulnerable. It made your heart swell with affection for him.

Neither of you spoke, the moment stretching out between you like a fragile thread. It wasn’t about grand gestures or elaborate confessions. It was about the quiet understanding that, despite everything—despite his walls and his stubbornness and his fears—he was letting you in.

And that was more than enough.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bakugo spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not good at this… but I’ll try.”

Your chest tightened, and you squeezed his hand gently, offering him a smile that said everything you couldn’t put into words.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered back. “Just… be you.”

And for the first time, Bakugo didn’t argue. He didn’t push you away. Instead, he squeezed your hand a little tighter, and for that moment, it was enough.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

[rogueshadow1124]

REMEMBER ME

[Jason Todd x reader]

Summary: on one if his nightly patrols he comes to sit on a rooftop where he flicks through memories of himself and Y/N, his love who was gone. Or was she?

Word count: 2830

Warnings: swearing.

Gotham was a dangerous city. Everybody knew that. It was dull, rundown, and full of rambunctious bandits, rogues, lowlifes—criminals. The worst of the worst lived in Gotham, and not a night went by where there would be peace. Arkham Asylum was where most criminals were sent—the really bad ones, the ones whose evil ran so deep that they put others in danger for their own twisted fun and games.

Above the city, on the ledge of a towering building, sat a broad-built figure, cloaked in the dim glow of Gotham’s failing streetlights. His head hung low, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. In his hands, he held a red metallic faceplate, the familiar mask that had become his symbol. Candy apple-colored eyes, once sharp and intense, now appeared sore and rimmed with a ring of red that circled his waterline. A single tear slipped free, landing on the metal mask with a soft, muted thud. He swiped at it absently, his gloved hand dragging beneath his nose as a quiet sniffle broke the silence.

This was Red Hood—the infamous antihero who once ruled Crime Alley and had now begun to roam the streets of Gotham. His armor, designed to withstand the worst Gotham could throw at him, could not protect him from the storm that raged inside. Beneath the mask, the armor, the hardened persona, was Jason Todd—just a young man, broken, in pain, and utterly lost without the comfort he once had.

A comfort that had been torn away from him.

In the stillness, fragments of the past flooded his mind, scenes that he replayed more often than he'd ever admit. The memories came swiftly, cutting through the cold Gotham night like a knife.

“Jason?!” Her voice echoed through his mind first. Soft but clear, like a bell in the fog. He could still picture her walking through the small apartment, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, the way her eyes—those brilliant Y/E/C eyes—would light up whenever she saw him. The creak of the door, the soft thud of her footsteps on the floor, and then her calling out again, more playful this time. “Baby?”

He could see it so vividly—the way he had turned toward her, his lips quirking up into that half-smile she loved. “Y/N/N,” he had replied, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that clung to him.

The duffel bag she carried slipped from her shoulder, landing on the floor with an audible thud, but her attention was entirely on him. He remembered her gaze as it swept over him, lingering on his slouched posture, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch while the other rested on his thigh, just above his knee. He’d been trying to look casual, like he hadn’t been missing her all day, but she could always see through him.

Without a word, her legs had carried her over to him. She stopped right in front of him, her bright eyes soft with affection. Jason had reached out, patting his thigh in invitation, and she had smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else fade away.

“Oh, Jaybird…” she had whispered as she climbed into his lap, her body draping across him almost horizontally. His arms had wrapped around her immediately, pulling her in as if he could keep her safe just by holding her close. He had kissed her forehead, once, twice, and then again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I missed you.”

Her laughter had filled the room, light and melodic. “I think I missed you more, babygirl,” he had murmured, his voice low and full of that teasing affection she loved. His hand had cradled the back of her head, pressing her against his chest, and she had giggled, the sound vibrating against him. Times like that were the best, the moments when they didn’t have to hold their guard up, when they didn’t have to be vigilantes or fighters or survivors. They could just be Jason and Y/N.

He could still feel the warmth of her body against his, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, as if the universe had designed them that way. She had been his solace, his peace in a world that was anything but.

But nothing in Gotham lasted forever, and happiness was the most fleeting thing of all.

Jason’s mind drifted back to the night they met. Y/N had been a rogue back then, laying low, doing her own thing. He’d caught wind of her while on patrol in his Red Hood gear. A newcomer stirring things up, not quite a villain but not exactly a hero either. She had intrigued him, the way she moved through Gotham’s underworld with purpose and precision. He hadn’t expected her to fight back when he finally confronted her.

But she had.

That punch had shattered more than just his mask—it had shattered his assumptions about her. One solid hit had cracked a piece of his faceplate, revealing one of his eyes beneath. For a split second, their gazes had locked—his sharp jade eyes meeting hers. The moment had stunned them both. He had felt it then, that electric pull, the raw attraction that surged through him like nothing he had ever experienced. And from that moment on, she had been in his head, under his skin.

And now, she was gone.

His chest tightened as the weight of reality settled back in. Y/N was gone. He had lost her in the cruelest way imaginable, ripped away before he had a chance to say goodbye, before he could protect her one last time.

The memories, once so vibrant, began to blur, and he was left with only the dull ache that accompanied her absence.

A faint sound behind him stirred him from his thoughts—quick, sharp footsteps slicing through the quiet. Instinctively, Jason tensed, his body reacting before his mind fully caught up. Someone was there.

Jason’s senses flared the moment the figure lunged at him, a blur of black against the dark skyline. Their impact hit like a freight train, the force of it driving the air from his lungs as they tumbled across the rooftop. His back slammed against the gritty surface, pain rippling through his ribs, but his instincts kicked in before his mind had time to process the shock. He raised his arms just in time to block a swift elbow aimed at his jaw.

The figure’s movements were sharp, surgical—no wasted motion, every strike aimed to disable or incapacitate. Jason’s muscles strained as he parried a rapid series of blows, his forearms absorbing the brunt of punches that felt like they were thrown by someone who knew his every move. He countered with a knee strike, but they twisted out of the way, fluid and fast, turning his own momentum against him. His balance faltered for a split second, enough time for his attacker to hook a leg around his and sweep him to the ground again.

“Damn it!” he growled, rolling with the fall, instinctively flipping back to his feet. His breath came in shallow bursts, his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn’t just some thug. This person—whoever they were—was fighting with the same ruthlessness, the same precision he used. Every move they made felt familiar, as if he was battling his own reflection.

Jason charged, closing the distance between them with a flurry of punches and a swift roundhouse kick, but the figure met him blow for blow, deflecting each strike with an eerie familiarity. A vicious jab to his ribs sent pain shooting through his side, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn't afford to.

They clashed again, their movements a deadly dance of speed and skill. The rooftop echoed with the sharp crack of fists and the scrape of boots against concrete. Jason grabbed his attacker's wrist, yanking them off balance, but the figure twisted with practiced ease, using his grip to pull him into a brutal headbutt. Stars exploded in his vision, and he stumbled back, shaking his head to clear the haze.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong. How could they fight like this? Like him?

He circled warily, his breath ragged, eyes scanning for any opening. The figure mirrored his movements, calm, calculated, as if anticipating his next move. And that’s when he saw it—a glint of something small and metallic, just beneath the collar of their shirt, briefly visible as they adjusted their stance.

A heart-shaped necklace, swaying slightly as they moved.

Jason’s focus sharpened, his eyes narrowing on the piece of jewelry. His next strike was deliberate, forcing the figure back just enough for him to see the necklace more clearly—a silver heart with an engraving, the letter J catching the dim light. His breath hitched, the world slowing around him as the truth slammed into him with a force more powerful than any punch.

His heart stopped.

No. It couldn’t be. But that necklace—he knew that necklace.

Time seemed to freeze as the figure stepped back, tilting their head ever so slightly, as if sensing his hesitation. Jason’s fists trembled, uncertainty flooding his veins. His mind raced back to years ago, back to a girl who wore that very necklace—a girl he thought he’d never see again.

“Y/N?” he whispered, the name escaping his lips before he could stop it.

The figure paused, their body still as stone. For a brief second, the chaos of the fight ebbed, and Jason saw it. In the way they held themselves, the way they moved—it wasn’t just the fighting style that was familiar. It was her.

“Y/N!” he called out, louder now, his voice cracking with equal parts disbelief and hope.

The figure straightened, and with a slow, deliberate motion, reached up to the edge of their mask. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as gloved fingers peeled away the black mask, revealing a face he thought had been lost to time.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Her expression was cold, hardened by the years, but the necklace, swinging gently against her chest, told the story neither of them needed to say.

It was her. Y/N.

Jason’s world tilted on its axis, the rooftop suddenly feeling too small, the night too quiet. The woman he once knew—the woman he once loved—was standing in front of him, and now, she was a weapon pointed right at him.

He could see the hesitation in her posture now. The rigid tension in her shoulders had loosened, her fists no longer clenched for another round. Her breathing was heavy, but not from exertion—no, this was something else. Confusion, maybe. Doubt.

“Who the fuck is Y/N?” she snapped, her voice colder than he’d ever heard it, a sharp edge to her tone. Her gaze pierced through him like she was demanding answers to questions she didn’t even know how to ask. But behind that, something flickered—a hesitation, a crack in her hardened exterior. It was subtle, but Jason caught it, and it twisted the knife in his chest even deeper.

“You are,” Jason said, his voice raw, barely keeping steady. He took a cautious step toward her, his hands lowered, palms facing her as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. “Y/N, it’s me. Jason.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, something sparked behind them—something familiar. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a cold, distant stare. She shook her head, taking a step back as if his words were dangerous.

“I don’t know who the hell you think I am,” she muttered, her tone biting, “but I’m not her.”

The words were like a punch to his gut. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as a mix of anger and desperation flared within him. How could she not remember? How could she forget everything they went through? He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breath, his mind racing for a way to break through to her.

“You don’t remember me?” Jason asked, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He stepped closer again, his eyes searching her face for any sign, any flicker of recognition. “You don’t remember us?”

She stared at him, her jaw clenched, her eyes flicking over him like she was trying to figure him out. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the way he stood, the subtle shift in his weight, the way he held himself. There was something there, buried deep within her, something that made her hesitate.

“No,” she finally said, but her voice wavered ever so slightly. “I don’t... I don’t know you.”

Jason’s heart broke a little more with each word, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to make her remember, had to find a way to bring her back. He took a deep breath, letting the emotions flood through him as he spoke.

“You’re Y/N.” His voice was steady now, filled with quiet determination. “We fought together. We survived together. You’re the one who kept me going when I thought everything was lost. We—” He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “We loved each other, Y/N.”

Her eyes flickered again, this time more noticeably. She looked away for a split second, as if trying to push something away, something clawing at the edges of her mind.

Jason’s heart pounded harder. There was a crack, a small one, but it was there. He could feel it. She wasn’t fighting him anymore—not like she was before. She couldn’t hurt him.

“Why... Why can’t I...” Her voice trailed off, her hand going to her temple, fingers pressing against her head like she was trying to force herself to remember, or maybe trying not to.

Jason moved in closer, his voice soft but filled with urgency. “It’s in there, Y/N. You can feel it, can’t you? There’s a part of you that knows I’m telling the truth. You don’t want to hurt me. I can see it. I can feel it.”

She looked at him again, her lips parting slightly, confusion swirling in her expression. Her hands trembled for a brief second before she clenched them into fists, shaking her head like she was trying to shake off the weight of his words.

“I... I don’t know you!” she insisted, but her voice was weaker now, cracking under the pressure of something she couldn’t explain. “I don’t know anything!”

Jason’s chest tightened at the sound of her breaking down, and for a brief moment, he saw the girl he once knew—the girl beneath the armor and confusion. He couldn’t let her slip away. Not again.

In a bold move, he stepped even closer, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of her. His hand hovered near her cheek, hesitating for only a second before he gently placed it against her skin. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Her eyes snapped to his, wide and searching.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a touch so familiar it almost hurt him. “You used to hate it when I’d call you that when you were mad. You’d roll your eyes and make that face like you were too good for me. But you’d laugh. You always laughed.”

Her breath hitched, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes softened for just a heartbeat, her gaze trapped in his.

“Jason...” she whispered, barely audible, her voice shaking.

He froze, his heart thudding in his chest. She said his name. He saw it, felt it—a spark. But then, just as quickly as it came, her eyes darkened again, a shadow falling over her face. She jerked away from him, stepping back as if she’d been burned.

“No,” she muttered, her voice panicked now. “No. I can’t... I can’t be her.”

Jason’s hand dropped to his side, the moment slipping away, but he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep reaching out to her. “You are her, Y/N. You can fight it, but you know deep down, you’re her. You just have to remember.”

She shook her head violently, turning away from him, her hands trembling as she clutched her head. “I don’t know who I am! I don’t know who you are! Leave me alone!”

But Jason wouldn’t let her run. He stepped forward, his voice firm but gentle. “I won’t. I won’t leave you. Not again. Not like this.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move, her back still to him, her breathing ragged. Jason stayed there, waiting, hoping. He knew this fight wasn’t over—not with her.

[novaursa]

Could u do a Visenya x brother reader

Of Duty and Heart

- Summary: Visenya chooses you over her duty to Aegon.

- Paring: brother!reader/Visenya Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sound of footsteps echoing through the Great Hall of Dragonstone feels like the beat of a drum in your chest. You stand beside your younger brother Aegon, his posture straight and composed, but you can sense the unease rolling off him in waves. Your father, Lord Aerion, sits upon the carved throne at the end of the hall, his face a mask of expectation and authority.

But it is your elder sister, Visenya, who draws all your attention. She stands before you, her back straight, her violet eyes fierce and unwavering. The light glints off her silver-gold hair, cascading over her shoulders like a pale molten fire. Her face, as always, is beautiful and commanding, but tonight, there’s something else there. A hardness, a defiance you have rarely seen in her gaze.

“I will not wed Aegon,” she says, her voice steady and clear, echoing through the hall like the peal of a bell. Her words are a blade, slicing through the tense silence. You feel Aegon stiffen beside you, and your father’s eyes narrow, his hand tightening on the arm of his throne.

“Visenya,” Lord Aerion’s voice is low, dangerous, “You speak of duty, not desire. This is what the family—what the realm—expects.”

She lifts her chin, defiance blazing in her eyes. “I have served duty my entire life. I have wielded Dark Sister in battle, I have stood as a shield for our family, and I have done all that has been asked of me.” She turns her gaze to Aegon, and then, to your surprise, to you. “But I will not marry where there is no love.”

You inhale sharply, her words hitting you like a blow. Visenya has always been the warrior, the embodiment of duty and strength. You have loved her for as long as you can remember, since you were children playing in the shadow of Dragonstone’s walls, since you watched her learn to wield a sword with a fierce grace that took your breath away. But you had buried that love, knowing that she was promised to Aegon, knowing that your place was to protect her, not to claim her.

“Love?” Lord Aerion’s voice is cold, his eyes glittering like chips of ice. “Love is not the concern of kings and queens. You will wed Aegon, and together you will forge a dynasty that will be the envy of the world.”

Visenya’s gaze does not waver. “A dynasty forged in cold blood is a fragile thing. I will marry no one but him,” she says, and then she turns fully to you, and it is as if the world narrows to the space between you, to the breathless, aching moment that stretches between her words and your understanding.

You can scarcely breathe as she steps closer, her eyes locked on yours. “I would rather die than wed without love, and the only man I have ever loved is you, Y/N.”

The hall seems to vanish around you, the walls and the torches and your father’s scowl fading into nothingness. All you can see is Visenya, the fierce determination in her eyes, the way her breath hitches ever so slightly as she waits for your response.

“Visenya,” you whisper, the name reverberating in the silence like a prayer. You reach for her hand, scarcely believing that this moment is real, that the thing you have longed for, dreamed of, could be within your grasp. “Are you certain? This is not something that can be undone.”

Her fingers curl around yours, strong and sure. “I have never been more certain of anything. I want to marry you, Y/N. Not because of duty, not because it is expected, but because I love you.” Her voice softens, the fierceness giving way to something raw and tender. “And I will not give myself to anyone else.”

You feel Aegon’s eyes on you, feel your father’s fury simmering like a storm about to break, but none of it matters. All that matters is the woman standing before you, her hand in yours, offering you everything you have ever wanted, everything you never dared to hope for.

“I love you, too,” you say, the words falling from your lips like a vow, like a promise. “I always have.”

Visenya smiles then, a fierce, radiant smile that banishes the shadows from the hall, that makes your heart swell with a joy so fierce it almost hurts. “Then we will face whatever comes as one.”

Your father rises from his throne, his face dark with anger, but you meet his gaze unflinchingly, your hand still wrapped around Visenya’s. “You would defy me for this?” he demands, his voice shaking with rage.

“I would defy the world for her,” you reply, your voice steady, your heart calm. “And I will stand beside her, no matter what comes.”

For a long, tense moment, the air crackles with unspoken words, with the clash of wills. But then, slowly, your father’s shoulders sag, and he seems to age before your eyes, his fury giving way to a weary resignation.

“Very well,” he says at last, his voice heavy with the weight of surrender. “If this is the path you have chosen, then so be it. But know this: the road you walk will be a difficult one, and you will have no one to blame but yourselves.”

“We know,” Visenya says quietly, her eyes still on you, her hand still clasped in yours. “But we will walk it together.”

And as you stand there, your sister’s hand in yours, her love shining in her eyes, you know that whatever the future holds, you will face it with her, with the woman you love, by your side.

[hetalian-veteran]

Hetalia Sleep Headcanons

Here, have my headcanons about how the Hetalia characters sleep because I'm still awake at this ungodly hour of the night.

🇮🇹Italy needs to cling to something to sleep well. Whether it be a pillow, a plushie, or another person, the poor guy needs something or someone there to cuddle.

🇩🇪Germany has really bad insomnia and can only get at most four or five hours of sleep a night, and that's if he's lucky. But when he does sleep, he probably sleeps on his back, still as the grave.

🇯🇵Japan also sleeps on his back and is so still and quiet that every now and then, someone comes by to check and see if he really is asleep and not dead.

🇮🇹Romano sleeps on his side with his arms sort of stretched outward, almost as if he's reaching for someone. That, or he's dreaming of beating someone up. You know, one or the other.

⚔️Prussia will lay down on his back and fall asleep that way. However, he's the kind of guy who moves around a lot in his sleep. So when he wakes up, he's sort of on his face and stretched out like a starfish.

🇪🇸Spain sleeps like a freaking baby and gets a full nine hours every night. Lucky son of a gun.

🇬🇧England has a pretty hard time quieting his mind down enough to get to sleep. So he spends his nights slowly sipping on a cup of tea to try and calm himself down enough to get some shut-eye.

🇺🇸America moves around, twists, and rolls over so often in his sleep that when he wakes up, he typically finds himself tangled up in his blankets. Sometimes, he accidentally rolls out of bed.

🇫🇷France can only sleep if the room is completely dark. Like, pitch black. He also sleeps on his side and sometimes hums a little in his sleep.

🇨🇳China has insomnia pretty bad and, as a result, will often find himself staying up at night drinking tea. When he can sleep, however, he sort of curls up into a ball under the covers.

🇷🇺Russia sleeps on his back and stays in that position the entire night. Sometimes giggles and smiles a little in his sleep.

🇨🇦Canada needs several layers of heavy blankets to sleep, as well as something or someone to cuddle.

🇩🇰Denmark sleeps on his side and has sometimes been heard singing in his sleep, though nobody has been able to make out what exactly he's singing. He also occasionally snores.

🇸🇪Sweden usually falls asleep whilst looking through Ikea catalogs. They seem to really help calm his mind.

🇫🇮Finland often smiles while he sleeps, sometimes even giggling a little every now and again. He also sleeps best when listening to some of the most intense, heavy metal you've ever heard.

🇳🇴Norway plays white noise and curls up into a ball under a couple of layers of thick, heavy blankets. He probably hugs a pillow, thinking of the days when Iceland used to call him big brother as a little kid.

🇮🇸Iceland can only get to sleep in total darkness and in total silence. He's also a light sleeper, so anybody walking around the room will immediately wake him up.

🇭🇺Hungary sleeps like an actual normal person. I really don't know how else to describe it. Though she has been heard saying some pretty weird crap in her sleep before.

🇦🇹Austria sleeps best if he has soft classical music playing. Unfortunately for him, Prussia hacked into his playlist and threw in some of Finland's heavy metal songs.

🇱🇮Liechtenstein is a fairly light sleeper. She's also afraid of the dark, so she typically has a nightlight somewhere in her room.

🇨🇭Switzerland is also another character with insomnia. This is because he is low-key paranoid about making sure the entire house is locked up before he goes to bed at night. He wants to make sure he and Liechtenstein are safe.

[tearsucry]

I love it! Like EVERYTHING!

Can I request angst? I love Agatha

— °˖ ⊹ ꒰ 🌑 ꒱ we wave goodbye at moons shine. — agatha harkness

content warning;          angst content mdni, young! agatha harkness, kissing, agatha is saying goodbye but reader doesn't realize, established relationship, hinted time accurate homophobia | 1.07k words

a/n.                                       okay this might be lame as angst, but honestly, THIS KIDN OF THING HURTS ME THE MOST, LEAVING STUFF. so i hope it's good, nice and acceptable for you nice readers <3 thank you for reading

the moon hung low in teh sky, casting long shadows across the village outskirts as agatha made her way to the old fishing cottage next to the pond, not far from the village. her heart was a heavy stone in her chest, each step weighing more than the last. she couldn't let her falter.

not tonight.

you were waiting, just as agatha had known you would be. you kneeled on the plank pier, beneath the towering branches of an old oak tree, your soft silhouette bathed in silver light, as if the moon itself grieved for what neither of you knew was coming.

you didn't know, but agatha did- this was the last time the two of you would see each other. her mother and coven probably figured it out by now that she was reading into books she wasn't supposed to, that she had dabbled in dark magic despite her coven's rules not to. it was only a matter of time before they would capture her and put her on a real trial.

agatha paused for a moment, watching you, etching this scene into her memory. she would need to carry it with her when she left- something to hold onto when the loneliness crept in.

"agatha," you called softly, your voice a balm to agatha's wounded soul. she stepped closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but there was a question in her eyes. "I have missed you."

agatha swallowed hard and forced a smile in return. "I'm here now."

she wanted to say more. she wanted to pour her heart out, to tell you that she had missed you too, that she had spent every waking moment these past few days wrestling with what she had to do.

but she couldn't.

there were no secrets between the two of you, a poor human like you who was foolishly and madly in love with a witch would never tattle on her, and agatha also trusted you enough to not keep such a part of her hidden, despite her coven's instructions. but not this, the truth would have to stay buried, like so many other secrets that had kept you both safe in this cursed village.

you stepped closer, your hand reaching out, brushing against agatha's. "you have been distant lately. is something wrong?"

agatha shook her head. she couldn't let you see her fear, couldn't let you guess at the storm brewing just beyond the village's borders. if you knew- if you even suspected- everything would unravel and you'd be in danger of being prosecuted.

"i have had this headache," agatha started, her voice steady, though it felt like a lie. "there's been a lot on my mind."

you frowned, unconvinced. you stepped even closer now, so close that agatha could feel the warmth of your breath in the cool night air. "whatever it is," you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and simultaneously pulling the hood of her cloak down. "I'm here to listen to all your trouble."

the young witch's chest tightened. she wanted so desperately to tell you, to share this unbearable burden. but if she told you the truth, she would only be placing you in danger and she also couldn't risk you wanting to follow her, afraid of what might the coven do if they ever found out about someone who could affirm their suspicion about her use of the darkest of magic.

agatha shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. "there is nothing to worry about," she lied. "I just needed to see you."

she couldn't keep risking losing her composure, and without thinking, agatha leaned in, pressing her lips to yours. it was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened as the unspoken words between the two of you surged to the surface. agatha kissed you as if this moment was all she had left- as if, through the kiss, she could somehow tell you everything she was forbidden to say.

her love.

her fear.

her goodbye.

you responded in kind, your hands slipping around agatha's waist, pulling her closer. the kiss was full of longing, a silent promise, though neither of you spoke a word.

when you finally broke apart, agatha kept her forehead resting against yours, her eyes closed as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. this was goodbye, even if you didn't know it.

"i should go," agatha whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet night.

your grip tightened around her waist, unwilling to let go just yet. "stay a little longer," you pleaded softly, your breath warm against agatha's lips.

agatha's heart ached at the request. she wanted to stay, to hold you and pretend you had all the time in the world. but every moment she lingered made it harder to leave, harder to walk away for the slim hope of seeing you ever again.

"the burning should be over by now," she whispers, pulling back slightly, her hand brushing over your cheek. "but we'll see each other soon."

you smiled faintly, though there was sadness in your eyes- no matter how much time the two of you spent together, it always felt like just a few minutes. "promise?"

agatha nodded, lying through her teeth and smile. "promise."

the two of you kiss once again, but this one is much slower and longer. it lasts until your fingers are cold, until your lungs burn for air, until the stars shine brighter above you, shining just as brightly as you shone below. agatha pulls away, her hand still lingering on the curve of your jaw. she has to tear herself away. she can't stay any longer.

and so she took a step back, feeling the cold rush in between you where warmth had once been. you stood still, your arms slowly falling to your sides, the space between you now more than just physical.

with one last glance, agatha turned and began walking away, but not without waving you goodbye like she always did, her steps slow, deliberate. after that, she couldn't look back, because if she did, she knew she might never find the strength to leave.

in the clearing, the young witch's goodbye lingered, carried by the wind to you and though you didn't know it yet, your last kiss was already a memory.

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.” The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

---

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

---

THIRTY-SEVEN EXCERPT:

Tom put a hand to the back of Harry’s head. The skin was damp with heat. “What did you consume, Harry?”

“Felix Felicis.”

Tom cursed. Fluidly, he maneuvered Harry and scooped him up into his arms. Harry’s head rested against his chest.

“You said fuck.” Another giggle. “Not so proper, are ya?”

“How much did you take?” demanded Tom, looking down at him. He was light—lighter than he should’ve been, but Harry had obviously gained some much needed weight in the last two months. “Harry.”

Harry’s head flopped back, those eyes piercing in their light. “The whole vial.”

“Twelve hours in one go?” said Tom with a horrified gasp.

“Not my smartest move, I’ll admit,” said Harry, pointing at him and tapping Tom’s chest with a finger. “But it was a very good day. Got loads done… I think.”

“You imbecile.”

“Ah, ah, but I got what I wanted. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good and all that rot. Ugh, fuck the greater good. Fuck you, Albus fucking Dumbledore and your dickheaded chess moves over my life.”

“What could you possibly have needed that required an overdose on Felix Felicis?”

Harry grinned up at him. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out!” he said in a sing song voice and bopped Tom on the nose with a finger. Harry was lucky Tom’s hands were occupied or else he’d have been cursed. “Nuh uh. Can’t tell ya. Not yet. But it was fun. Oi, we should go together sometime.”

Tom’s grip tightened on Harry. He was torn from carrying him to the hospital wing, far too worried about the effects the potion could have on him, and taking him upstairs to sleep it off. He’d rather not any of the professors get wind of this.

“Go where?” asked Tom. “Where did you go?”

“None ya business.”

“Did you go to Hogsmeade or somewhere else?”

Harry giggled again.

“How could we go together if you don’t tell me where, Harry?” said Tom in a low voice.

There was another drunk like laugh. “Nice try, Tommy boy, but ya can’t Slytherin your way into getting me to tell ya all my secrets. Felix Felicis might’ve fucked me over, but I haven’t lost it entirely yet.”

“Debatable,” drawled Tom.

Harry’s giggles were beginning to grow on him.

“Why you holding me?” asked Harry, his giggles suddenly dying off. “Put me down.”

“No. I’m questioning over what to do with you.”

“Uh, oh. Ominous.”

Tom rolled his eyes and sighed. He hefted Harry a little higher in his arms, receiving a little squeal of delight for it, and began to go up the flight of stairs to their dormitory.

“Imagine that, Tom Riddle carrying me, the Boy-Who-Lived, like a fucking princess. Never figured ya be a prince type.”

The what?

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Destiny

Sorry all, megop angst has just been filling my head and I can't get it out. I promise more Astarion will be coming, more fluff Astarion but I need to get this angst out of the way first. I blame Transformers One for this brainrot.

Megatron rested his servo on the window, looking out at the sprawling landscape that was his domain. He watched as his army prepared for their next strike, the sound of engines revving and jets soaring through the sky filled his audials and bit back a sigh.

Why do you do this to me, Orion?

He unsheathed his blade, staring at the blade as his own reflection stared back. It wouldn't be the first time his blade would be stained with Energon, and it wouldn't be the last, but it would be the first time his blade would be stained with the Energon of one he loved so dearly.

Back in the gladiator pits, when he was Megatronus, he never allowed himself to get close to anyone, fearing that one day he might have to face them in the arena. Then the brightest star he'd ever seen in his life ducked into his quarters, calling himself Orion Pax. He'd kept the mech at bay initially, wary of anyone who was from the higher castes but the light the star gave off was far too alluring, and Megatron found himself opening up more and more, until he fell into the deep chasm called love.

He started to look forward to their meetings, started to look forward to seeing the shining pale blue optics, started to look forward to hearing the excited chatter as Orion talked about the bright future he envisioned for Cybertron, a future he wanted the gladiator to help bring to fruition. He wanted that future, but more importantly he wanted to spend that future alongside a certain bright star that had illuminated his life.

And then everything changed.

Orion had stood before the Council, the very same Council that had rejected him, and had been granted the title of a Prime. The mech had the audacity to accept the title, continue to uphold the very structure they were to tear down, and worst of all, had betrayed him.

As he left the building, Orion hadn't even bothered to call out to him. Instead, the mech had stood there, basking in the glory of his new title, leaving the one he considered more than a brother in the darkness, all alone.

Megatron ignored the pang in his spark, gritting his denta. Orion was gone now, replaced by the false Prime. The bright optimistic young data clerk had died the day Optimus Prime was born, and with him all hope for a future together. He powered up his fusion cannon, relishing in its low hum and stepped out the door, all trace of Megatronus left back in the privacy of his quarters. He'd have to kill his past young and naive self someday, or that weakness would be his downfall, and he would not be defeated, not by anyone. If Primus didn't want to give him the destiny he desired, then he would grab it with his own two servos and not let go. He didn't need anyone's aid to grasp what was his, he'd always been at it alone and this time would be no different.

The sound of engines roaring and weapons charging up sent his spark thrumming in anticipation. He could feel it in the air, his Decepticons were raring to go, eager to reclaim what was rightfully theirs, and who was he to deny them that? The Autobots would fall before them and know the wrath of the oppressed, they would know the cost of the lies they had been living in. They would be dragged from their towers, their positions of comfort and be forced to face the harsh reality of life — that they were no different from those they had looked down upon their whole lives. His Decepticons would rebuild Cybertron anew, usher it into a true Golden Age where there would be no false Primes, no caste system, no weak-minded fools deciding the fate of the whole population.

A Cybtertron where no one would ever be unwillingly made into entertainment for the masses. A Cybertron where only those who were truly strong would rule. A Decepticon Cybtertron.

Optimus Prime looked at his newly added weapons arsenal, anxiety gnawing away at him. He never wanted it to come to this, come to a war, but Megatron had been the one to declare it, and he could do nothing to stop the Decepticon leader's destruction except to fight him. Or so his officers said. He hated fighting, hated the sound of the battlefield where the groans of the dying mingled with the sound of weapons being fired, hated the smell of Energon that permeated the air. He hated watching as life faded from blue and red optics alike, hated the screams of pain that would sound all around him as he fought for his life. Most of all, he hated feeling powerless, a feeling that threatened to overwhelm him with each and every Autobot death.

He was their Prime, their leader. They looked up to him, looked to him for hope, and yet more of them died as the war raged on, their wishes going unfulfilled. He may not have killed them directly, but they were dead because he had pulled them into his war. Their Energon might as well be on his servos, no matter what the others told him.

He placed a servo on the window to his quarters, heaving a tired sigh. He wanted nothing more than to end this war, but he also knew he couldn't simply roll over and let Megatron have his way. The mech he once called more than a brother would stop at nothing to tear Cybertron apart, bend what remained of the planet to his will, his rule. He had to fight against such tyranny, it went against everything he stood for, everything he once thought Megatronus stood for. Maybe it had been, before Megatron cruelly killed him, burying the revolutionary gladiator beneath red optics.

His spark ached for the bygone days, the soft tender moments where it had just been Megatronus and Orion Pax, two forbidden lovers pining after each other. He missed the tender touches, the small laughs as they hid away from the world, nestled in each other's embrace. Now the same servos crushed all who stood in his way, the lips that once often quirked into a smile now twisted into a scowl of hate.

He knew the mech he faced on the battlefield was Megatron, not Megatronus, but every time his gaze met the red optics burning with fury, he couldn't help but see Megatronus, the mech he had fallen so hard for. He could never bring himself to pull the trigger, emotions overwhelming him every time he tried. The others chastised him for it, telling him that Megatronus was dead, but he couldn't shake the sight from his processor. Deep down, he yearned for them to be together again, even as destiny tore them apart with each step.

A quiet sob tore itself from his throat as the alarm was raised, shouts filling the base as his Autobots readied themselves for a fight they may not survive. Megatron had been sighted, the scouts reported, and Optimus knew he had to face his fears once more. Running a digit one over a piece of carved metal one last time, he snapped his battle mask into place, hiding the pain and sorrow behind a stoic facade and strode out of his quarters.

Had Megatron thrown out his piece already? Optimus found himself wondering. He couldn't bear to throw it away, not when it held such precious memories, and a small part of him hoped that Megatron still kept his. It would give him the sliver of hope he needed, a sign that the mech he had fallen for was still in there somewhere, but he doubted Megatron would ever tell him if he had kept his piece. For now, he had a battle to win, a war to fight for the future of a Cybertron he envisioned.

A Cybertron where all were treated fairly and justly. A Cybertron where all were equal. An Autobot Cybertron.

Megatron felt something prick his arm and frowned. A piece of carved metal, one he thought he had long lost. He stared at it for a moment, feeling buried emotions flare to life but quickly reburied them. He had no time to dig up the past, the only thing that awaited him was the future he was going to build.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the piece of metal flying into the wasteland, and never looked back.

[hatsukeii]

"WE ARE THE BLOOD IN OUR...WAS IT VEINS OR ARTERIES AGAIN?" / T. KUROO

#4. READY PLAYER...15? | M.LIST | PREV. | NEXT. |

warning(s): biology, horrible reliance on academic validation

wc: ~1.4k

It is in the fifth week of biology tutoring that Kuroo Tetsuro finally gets somewhere with his pep talk. Just after the walls of text pertaining to cells with alphabetical names, disgustingly high definition photos of pus and wounds, and flowcharts that look more like gibberish than anything, is a segment filled to the brim with neurological complications and diseases. When Kuroo mistakenly discovered his magnum opus the night before, he was convinced that this might just be the light at the end of the tutoring tunnel.

"Hemorrhage...so blood needs to flow properly...that's it...!" He's mumbling to himself now, fully immersed in his personal thought bubble, and you stare blankly. His brow is furrowed, fingers picking at his lips in focus, as if he has just made some scientific breakthrough. For the first time in the past five weeks, he actually looks smart. Concentrated. Deserving of his valedictorian position. You'd hate for him to realise that his discovery is supposed to be common sense for biology students, so you bite your lip and shoot a hand towards his squinted eyes, snapping and waving to break him from his unimpressive epiphany.

“Why are you looking through the brain? We have an exam on immunity in two days?”

Kuroo freezes, his head lifting agonisingly slow to meet your eyes, and the stapled papers in your other hand. Truth be told, he has been unaware of any biology exam until this moment, the past week spent tormenting himself over the upcoming chemistry exam, conveniently scheduled for the day before- tomorrow. His mind wanders to two days prior, recalling your reminder to focus on understanding immunity, and his blatant dismissal of it at his newfound discovery of the brain's pep talk potential. Eyeing the papers in your hand, and making out the familiar A, B, C, and Ds on the first page, he tries to estimate the total combinations of answers he can possibly provide on a twenty question multiple choice test. He comes to the conclusion that it's a lot.

"I made you a mock exam, get it done and we'll spend tomorrow going through it."

You watch Kuroo spend five minutes on the first question alone, sigh beneath your breath (something you know he notices by how he mimicks it half-heartedly), then turn away to face your open laptop. As he goes through the five stages of grief on the paper, your keyboard clicks obnoxiously in front of him. He looks up to see you gnaw on your bottom lip fist pump, and scoffs dryly at a recognisable 8-bit tune sounding from your laptop's speakers. You're playing Tetris.

"Shouldn't you be working?"

"On what? The exam I made for you?" Your eyes don't leave the screen. A piece falls into the wrong spot, to which you click your tongue and grumble, pressing even more furiously at your keyboard.

Kuroo spends the next twenty minutes making some attempt at the paper, before handing it over to you, half-folded and face down. Scanning his work against your answer sheet, the pages become maps of red against black ink, and you stare at the glaring 2/10 that graces the top of his paper, just beside the sorry:( scribbled carelessly in the corner. You're not sure how it's even possible to achieve that after weeks of tutoring. Maybe you should be impressed, but all that consumes you is the visceral urge to crumple up the test and throw it at him.

"You ever thought about dropping biology?" Oh, if only you knew.

Kuroo's shoulders tense up now, and he thinks he'll turn away when you reveal to him the fruits of his twenty-minute labour. You slap the paper in front of him, watching the gears in his head turn as he soaks in the dismay of a new academic low. The gears in your head, on the other hand, are in desperate need of oil, jammed in place by sheer confusion as to how somebody so utterly incompetent at a subject has managed to worm his way into the position of to-be valedictorian.

"I don't know, it never occurred to me."

You grip your seat, feeling the blood rush to your fingertips. Well, maybe you should consider it, the thought rings in your eardrums, and your hand comes up to press against your temples. Meanwhile, Kuroo pokes and picks at his paper, playing with the edges between the pads of his fingers. He makes no sound, opting to let you wallow in disappointment at his incredulous failure. He probably deserves your silence right now.

"I told you to look through immunity, didn't I?"

"You did." Some insuppressible sensation bubbles in your throat at his acknowledgement.

"Did you?"

"...Possibly not."

You groan, shoving your head into your hands as your nails dig into your hair. Kuroo swallows as you slam your laptop shut, and shove it into your bag. He tries to check the time on his phone discreetly, head unmoving and eyes peering ever so slightly to the screen. There is still ten minutes until the end of the session.

"Coffee shop? My treat as an apology?"

You don't think he understands, as you keep stuffing papers and pens into your bag. Seriously, how is somebody this bad at a subject doing better than you across the board? What more will it take for your name to sit somewhere close to his on the ranking announcements, instead of down at #15, buried amongst the rest? When your placement flashes through your mind for a second, you pull the zipper on your bag extra hard, and yank it all the way around. Kuroo's head dips beneath the table, trying to find your face amidst your dismissal of his proposal. He hopes to God you did not go back to your caffeine addiction to create this mock exam, all for him to forget about studying and fail completely. Your bag disappears from the ground, and he shoots up from beneath the table, his head knocking into the edge, only to see you pushing open the door to the room. He collects all his pens into a pile, and wipes them into his own bag, before snatching it off the side of his chair and tailing after you.

"Hey, are you good?"

"I'm going home, don't feel like coffee today."

Your steps quicken, shuffling further from Kuroo as you hang your head low and speed walk across campus. The worthiness of this tutoring gig suddenly falters, the nights spent compiling notes following hours of gruelling studying finally beginning to seem as insane as it sounds whenever you explain your exhaustion to your peers. Call it jealousy, envy, disdain, whatever it is that is making your eyes twitch and your teeth grind against each other with each step, but you come to the bitter realisation that Kuroo Tetsuro is a better student than you ever will be, even if he's dropped 2/20 on a tutoring mock exam. A hand shoots out to your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"What's going on?"

"Why are you even asking for my help? You're valedictorian already, I'm not even close." Not close, inadequate, in fact. You are inadequate, and it is undeniable.

Kuroo freezes, eyes glazing over at your confrontation. He thinks about his pep talk; the brain, RNA, blood, and it all leads back to you. The bags beneath your eyes when you explain to him concepts he couldn't care less for, the times you have fallen asleep at the counter in the coffee shop the two of you frequent, your deadpan tone at his fumbles and distractions. He's been scamming you out of your time, and for what? So he can workshop a pep talk?

I'm valedictorian, but can't beat you in a single chemistry exam. I roped you into this gig for a pep talk. You can stop tutoring me, if that makes anything better. I'm sorry.

When Kuroo opens his mouth, you yank your wrist from his grip. He doesn't keep chasing you, but you almost wish he does. You imagine him telling you no, you are just as smart, if not smarter- God, being praised for your intelligence by a valedictorian sounds so good right now. You can almost hear it in your head, before your own voice butts in and shatters the fantasy.

You keep walking. He doesn't follow.

author's note:

not my best work:( i think writing think fast has rid me of the ability to do fluff/crack because that entire fic was so angsty and like nostalgia fueled... i think i just need to plan out the rest of this series and get back into the groove and we'll be all good though!! for the time being, hopefully this did the series justice anyways, and i'll hopefully update this with a better next chapter:)

tags: @staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @hiraethwa @kuroppiii @laughingfcx @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @fiannee @shoyosluver @haikyuusunsalad @kongkhoi

[luvzshy]

I Am Home

Pairing: Poly!Alice Cullen x Jasper Hale x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Your battle with anxiety feels endless until you find your true home in Alice and Jasper, whose deep soulmate bond with you brings the peace you desperately need.

Notes: Reader has anxiety, Alice and Jasper help calm her down with sweet words and affection. There’s angst leading to a fluffy, intimate ending. Deep emotional connection, slow-burn vibes with a soul-tie dynamic.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, pressed against the cold wall of the school library, the world blurring around you. It felt like everything was closing in—the fluorescent lights too bright, the voices too loud, even though they were distant now. Your heart was racing, every beat loud in your ears, as if it was trying to escape the cage of your chest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this—trapped inside your own mind, your thoughts spiraling out of control—but this time, it felt worse. It was like being underwater, gasping for breath, but unable to break through the surface.

The anxiety was suffocating, a familiar but unwelcome visitor, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, it was too much. Your hands trembled, your knees weak, and you were so close to sinking into that abyss. You pressed your back harder against the wall, as if it might ground you, but nothing seemed to help.

Then you felt it—a gentle touch on your arm, soft but steady. Alice.

Her presence was so light and comforting, like a whisper of calm amidst the chaos. Even without looking, you knew it was her. You could always feel her before you saw her, as if the air shifted when she was near, carrying with it the promise of safety.

“Hey,” Alice’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the fog of your panic like a lifeline. “Breathe with me.”

You struggled to meet her gaze, your vision blurred by the tears you hadn’t even realized were there. But when your eyes finally locked onto hers, you saw nothing but love. Her dark eyes, deep and unwavering, told you everything you needed to know—she was here. She always would be.

But even as her words washed over you, the panic didn’t release its grip. Your breath hitched in your throat, too shallow, too fast, and your hands shook uncontrollably. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force the feeling away, but it only made it worse.

Another touch—this time, steady and warm on your shoulder. Jasper.

Where Alice’s energy was light, Jasper’s was grounding, a quiet strength that enveloped you like a protective shield. His voice was low, soothing, the kind of voice that made you feel safe no matter how lost you were. “I’m here,” he said, his words vibrating through your body like a soft hum. “We’re not leaving you.”

Your chest tightened painfully, your breath coming in short gasps. “I… I can’t,” you managed to choke out between ragged breaths. “I can’t breathe.”

“You’re okay,” Jasper whispered, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, calming circles. His power flickered, not forcing calm on you, but offering it like a hand reaching out, waiting for you to take it. “I’m right here. You’re safe with us.”

Alice was still holding your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in rhythmic strokes. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice filled with so much tenderness that it made your chest ache in a different way. “We’ve got you.”

You wanted to believe them, but the panic was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, telling you that nothing was okay. The pressure in your chest built until it felt unbearable, your vision narrowing, black spots dancing at the edges.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking, ashamed that they had to see you like this—broken, fragile. “I’m sorry, I—”

Alice shook her head quickly, her grip on your hand tightening, but still gentle. “No. Don’t apologize, love. You don’t ever have to apologize for feeling this way.”

Jasper’s hand moved up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “You don’t have to be strong right now,” he murmured, his golden eyes warm and steady, locking onto yours. “That’s what we’re here for. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Their words were like a balm on your soul, slowly easing the weight pressing down on your chest. You could still feel the panic, but now there was something else—a warmth, a tether pulling you back, grounding you. Alice’s presence, light and hopeful, and Jasper’s calm, steady energy—both of them holding you, not just physically, but emotionally, wrapping you in their love.

“You’re so strong,” Alice whispered, her forehead resting gently against yours. “Even when you don’t feel like it. And we’ll remind you of that every single day if we have to.”

Jasper’s hand slid down to rest over your heart, his touch firm but comforting, as if he were holding all the pieces of you together. “We’re connected,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, like a promise etched into your soul. “You, me, Alice—we’re tied to each other. You’re never alone in this.”

The words “soulmates” echoed between them, not spoken aloud, but felt in the way they held you, the way they anchored you to them. You could feel it in the way their emotions wrapped around yours—Alice’s unwavering optimism, Jasper’s steady calm. It was more than just love. It was something deeper, something that transcended words.

Slowly, so slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. Your breath came easier, the trembling in your hands lessening as you focused on them—on the warmth of Alice’s hand, the steady pulse of Jasper’s presence.

You let out a shaky breath, tears slipping down your cheeks, but this time they weren’t from panic. They were from the overwhelming love you felt in that moment, the certainty that no matter how lost you were, they would always find you.

Alice wiped the tears away with gentle fingers, her smile soft, eyes shining with pride. “There you are,” she whispered, her voice full of love. “You did it.”

Jasper’s fingers interlaced with yours, his touch solid and reassuring. “We’re always going to be here,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering. “No matter how dark it gets, we’ll be your light.”

In that moment, you realized how deeply you were tied to them—not just in this life, but in every way that mattered. Soulmates. The word wasn’t big enough to capture what the three of you had, but it was the closest thing to describing the connection that bound you to Alice and Jasper. You belonged to each other, in a way that made everything else seem insignificant.

As you rested between them, your panic finally fading, you felt the weight of their love settle around you like a protective shield. You weren’t alone. You never would be.

Alice kissed your forehead softly, her touch full of tenderness. “We love you,” she whispered, her voice like a lullaby.

Jasper rested his forehead against yours, his breath steady, grounding you. “Always,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes, breathing them in, feeling the warmth of their love wrap around you like a blanket. In their arms, you were home.

And for the first time that day, the world didn’t feel so heavy.