#holding your hand and skipping off into the sunset with you

[cloudyluun]

I Didn’t Mean to Break You | Commission

Summary: You’re supposed to be living the dream: backstage passes to Portugal, sunsets with him, and nights filled with laughter. But lately, it feels like your chest is always tight, your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and the boy you’ve spent years secretly loving is the one brushing off your pain like it’s nothing. When your fear of being too much finally breaks you, he sees it. And suddenly? He’ll do anything to make sure he never makes you cry again.

A/N: this fic is a commissioned piece from my inbox of dreams!! this one’s got ✨emotional damage✨ followed by ✨emotional dick✨ (the duality of man)  we cry a little, get licked a lot, and finally get the love we deserve in a Portuguese hotel room. don’t we all. thanks to the sweet angel who commissioned this! if you're reading this on your lunch break… hydrate. moisturize. pretend you're in Lisbon with Harry Styles whispering “you’re not too much for me” into your collarbone.

Word Count: 6,5k

Warnings: 

Anxiety & emotional dysregulation (medication-related)

Crying/reader crying

Harry being dismissive at first (borderline cruel)

Hurt/comfort dynamic

Deep emotional vulnerability

Oral sex (f receiving)

Protected sex

Praise kink / soft dom!Harry energy

Aftercare (bath scene)

Cursing

Emotional smut / comforting sex

Reader doubts her worth

Harry realizing he’s in love too late (but fixing it!)

Slight angst before resolution

Tour setting

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Lisbon feels too bright. The sky is sharp blue, almost fake, like it’s been filtered one too many times. The sun bounces off the cobblestones in a way that makes your eyes water, and your sneakers catch on every third step. You’re sweating through your t-shirt and regretting the iced coffee you didn’t finish because now it’s just sloshing in your stomach, making you feel more nauseous than awake.

Harry’s up ahead, a few steps in front, arms stretched out as he turns in a slow circle to take in the street. There’s a linen shirt hanging open on his chest and sunglasses half-falling off his nose. He looks like he belongs in a perfume commercial. The kind with piano music and long looks across sun-drenched plazas. People keep staring at him, but in Portugal, no one seems to bother him too much. They clock him, maybe whisper to whoever they’re with, and let him pass like the breeze.

You trail behind the rest of the crew, trying not to think too hard about the fact that your pulse feels like it’s skipping every other beat. It’s the new meds. Probably. Or the heat. Or just being here, foreign country, different language, everyone relaxed and happy, and you stuck in your own head like it’s a too-small room with no air.

You don’t say anything. You haven’t said much all day. You laugh when someone says something funny. Smile when you’re meant to. Your camera stays strapped to your shoulder but you haven’t taken a single shot since lunch. You’re not sure what you’d even be capturing right now. Everyone else seems like they’re glowing. You feel like static.

Harry glances over his shoulder at one point and gives you a grin.

“You alright, love?” he calls back, casual, effortless. Like he always is.

You nod and lift your hand in a weak wave, trying to make it look like the sun’s just in your eyes. He holds your gaze for a second too long before turning back around. You catch the way he nudges Pauli and says something under his breath. They laugh. You don’t hear it, but your brain supplies its own interpretation anyway.

You’ve been trying to act normal. Whatever that means now. You switched to this new prescription two weeks ago, hoping it’d help level you out. Less anxiety, fewer spirals. Except you’ve just been feeling foggy and wrong in a way that’s hard to explain. Like your body’s here, but the rest of you is lagging behind. Everyone keeps talking about how good the shows have been, how tight the band sounds, how happy Harry looks.

He does look happy. Glowing, even. He’s in his element, slipping between languages when ordering food, charming entire tables of strangers, dancing a little when music plays from open café doors. It’s electric. He’s electric. It should be infectious, the kind of thing that makes everyone around him buzz. Usually, it is. Right now, it just makes you feel lonelier.

When you get back to the venue for soundcheck, you linger by the side of the stage, pretending to go through your photos even though your memory card is still blank. Harry’s center stage, barefoot already, singing snippets of something he’s been playing with between sets. His voice wraps around the empty room like warm water. You used to love watching him like this, unguarded and half-focused, doing the thing he loves most.

Today, it makes you ache.

“Oi,” he says when he spots you again later, this time backstage where everyone’s grabbing snacks and arguing over who’s hogging the AC. He walks over with a bottle of water in one hand and a towel draped around his neck. “You’ve been quiet lately. Tightly wound, yeah? You alright?”

You try to laugh. It comes out more like a breath.

“I’m fine,” you say, too quickly. “Just tired.”

He raises an eyebrow and nudges your arm with the back of his hand.

“You sure? You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows again.”

You look up at him, squinting. “I always have that crease.”

“Nah. Not like this. You’re stressing.”

“I’m not stressing.”

“You are. You get all serious when you’re in your head. Like someone told you there’s a pop quiz on reality.”

It’s meant to be light. He’s teasing. He’s always teased you. That’s the rhythm you’ve settled into over the years, safe and familiar. The little flicks of banter, the push and pull of people who pretend not to notice the way they orbit each other.

Today, though, it doesn’t land right.

You force a smile and shift your weight onto one foot. “Guess I’m just boring now. Sorry to disappoint.”

He catches it too late. The way your voice dips. The way you pull away slightly as someone else calls his name. He hesitates, like he might say something else, but the moment’s gone. You slip out the side door of the green room before he can follow.

Back in your hotel later, you stand under the cold shower until your skin turns pink. You stare at the ceiling while the water hits your face and try to slow your breathing. There’s a tightness in your chest that hasn’t gone away all day. Maybe it’s just Lisbon. Maybe it’s you. You towel off and lie on the bed in a pair of shorts and his hoodie, the one you borrowed in Barcelona and never gave back. It still smells like him. Somehow that makes you feel worse.

Your phone lights up on the nightstand. A message from Harry.

you alright?

You stare at it for a minute. Type out a reply and delete it. You wish you could just tell him the truth. That everything feels louder lately. That you feel like you’re fading out of focus while he’s never burned brighter. That being this close to him, day after day, and still feeling so far away is starting to crack you in places you don’t know how to fix.

You don’t reply. Not yet.

Instead, you roll onto your side, hug a pillow to your chest, and close your eyes.

He’s glowing. You’re unraveling.

You don’t know how much longer you can hide it.

The show ends with confetti in your hair and sweat running down your back, your ears still ringing from the last chorus. Lisbon loves him. The crowd roared like they knew him personally, like he’d just won something for all of them. You watched from the side of the stage, smiling when it felt safe to, clapping when everyone else did, heart thudding in your throat like it’s running out of room.

Back at the hotel, the crew peels off one by one. Some heading to the rooftop bar, some mumbling about showers and sleep. You think about joining them, pretending your brain isn’t chewing itself up. Instead, you drift toward the balcony attached to Harry’s suite. It’s quieter there, away from the laughter and leftover adrenaline.

He’s already out there, barefoot again, legs kicked up on the railing. There’s a bottle of wine open between you. He pours you a glass without asking. You take it because you don’t know how to say no to him, not when he looks like this, cheeks still flushed from the stage lights, skin dewy under the moon.

“Good crowd,” you say, because it’s easier than silence.

“Very good. Loud. One girl in the second row had my name painted across her arms. Both arms.”

You smile into your glass. “You’re a humble man, really.”

“I’m the humblest,” he says, grinning. “Ask anyone.”

It’s comfortable for a few minutes. You sip slowly, letting the cool breeze do what it can to unclench your body. You’re worn thin, but this is the closest you’ve come to peace all week.

He tilts his head back and stares at the stars like he’s trying to memorize them. “We’ve got two more shows here. Might actually get a day off.”

You hum in response. Your glass is still half full and your stomach feels full of stones. You look at him. He hasn’t noticed how quiet you’ve gone. Or maybe he has and is pretending not to.

You set your glass down and pull your knees to your chest. “Can I tell you something weird?”

He glances over. “When have you ever not told me something weird?”

“No, like. Not funny weird. Weird weird.”

He nods, sobers a little. “Go on.”

You pause. You want to ask directly. Say the truth with your chest. Instead, it comes out all wrong, like always.

“I’ve got this friend,” you start. “She’s… struggling. Says she feels like she’s cramping someone’s vibe. Like, that she’s too much. Too messy or anxious or just... not what people want around when things are good.”

He frowns, but not in a thoughtful way. More like he’s already dismissing it.

“Why’s she think that?”

You shrug. “Maybe because she sees how easy it is for everyone else. How happy they are. And she feels like a glitch in the program.”

“Sounds like she’s overthinking everything.”

“She probably is.”

He shifts in his seat and raises an eyebrow. “No offense, but that’s dumb. Anyone who thinks that way doesn’t deserve to be around. People either want you there or they don’t. If they do, they’ll let you know.”

Your heart doesn’t even sink. It just stops.

You nod like that makes perfect sense. Like he didn’t just pull the ground out from under you without realizing it. He says it with a grin, casual and confident, like it’s a line from a film he’s quoting back. He doesn’t mean it cruelly. That’s the worst part. He thinks he’s being reassuring.

You look away so he doesn’t see the shift in your face.

“Yeah. Makes sense,” you say, voice hollow.

He stretches, groaning a little, and stands. “I need a shower before I fall asleep standing up. You good?”

You give him the same lie you’ve been giving all week. “Yeah.”

He gives you a soft smile, ruffles your hair like he used to back when things felt simple, and disappears into the room. The balcony is quiet again. You sip the wine slowly, even though it tastes like nothing now.

The next morning, you don’t show up for breakfast. You skip the shuttle to the venue and Uber there alone. You stick close to the tech crew and spend most of the day by the equipment cases, pretending you’re organizing something important. Nobody bothers you, which you’re grateful for, even if it only makes the gnawing in your chest worse.

You feel stupid for thinking that maybe last night would go differently. For hoping he’d connect the dots, see past the disguise. You handed it to him on a plate and he tossed it without looking. That’s not fair, you know that. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He didn’t know. Still, it lands like betrayal. He made you feel like you were being ridiculous for feeling what you feel. Like your fears were pathetic.

You keep your sunglasses on all day. Not for the sun. Your eyes are red. He passes by a few times, tossing you small smiles, saying things like “You good?” in a way that barely masks concern. You nod, say “Fine,” every time. He accepts it. He always does.

At one point, he catches your arm gently as you pass in the hallway behind the stage.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

“Didn’t see it.”

He lets go of your arm, brows pulling together. “You alright?”

You force a laugh. “Tired. Like you said, I’ve been tightly wound.”

His face flickers, just for a second. You don’t give him time to respond. You walk off before he can ask anything else. If he calls after you, you don’t hear it over the blood rushing in your ears.

You don’t go to the afterparty that night. You stay in your room, lights off, TV muted. Your phone buzzes once. His name on the screen. You don’t read it.

You told him, in the only way you could. He didn’t hear you.

You’re done trying to make him listen.

You get good at disappearing without actually leaving. People talk around you, past you. Your body’s still there, showing up, nodding at the right moments, laughing when someone makes a joke. But your head is somewhere else entirely. You’ve stopped trying to close the gap.

Harry’s been different too. Not obvious to anyone else, maybe, but you’ve known him too long not to notice. He’s softer around you, a little more careful. Which would be nice if it didn’t feel like guilt. Like now that he’s vaguely clocked something’s off, he’s trying to fix it without asking what’s broken. He brings you tea instead of coffee in the mornings. Tells you when he likes your outfit. Stays within reach but doesn’t touch. It’s almost worse.

You keep it together until Lisbon’s last night.

It’s after the show, backstage, people buzzing high off the energy. There’s music playing from someone’s speaker, and the dressing room’s full of shouting and snacks and half-changed outfits. You’re leaning against the wall near the door, half-listening as Harry talks to someone about the next city’s venue layout.

You’re not even sure how the conversation pivots to you. One second he’s talking about stage lighting, the next his voice cuts through loud and clear.

“She’s been like a little storm cloud this week, hasn’t she?” He laughs, flicks his thumb in your direction like it’s nothing. “You alright now, or still spiraling?”

There’s a pause. Just a beat. Some people chuckle. One of the lighting techs gives you a sympathetic smile.

You stare at him.

He doesn’t mean it. He’s teasing, the same way he always has, the same cadence, the same crooked grin that says come on, it’s all in fun. But your throat closes anyway. The laugh someone else makes feels miles away. Your hands start to shake and suddenly there’s not enough air in the room.

You don’t say anything. You just push off the wall and walk out.

You hear him call your name once, confused, still smiling like it’s a joke you’ll both laugh about later. You keep walking.

The hallway is too bright. You find the first stairwell you can and climb until your legs burn. The roof is unlocked. Thank god. You push the door open and let the cold night hit you full in the face. It’s quieter up here. Still loud inside your chest, but at least the rest of the world has gone still.

You sit down hard on the concrete, pulling your knees to your chest, trying not to cry. It doesn’t work. It never does lately. You bury your face in your arms and give in to it, silent and sharp. You don’t sob. You just shake and cry like it’s leaking straight from your ribs.

The door creaks open behind you.

You don’t lift your head.

He steps out, shuts it quietly. His footsteps pause. You can feel him hesitate.

“You ran out like your hair was on fire,” he says, voice soft, unsure.

You don’t respond. You don’t want to talk. He doesn’t deserve to hear it, not after that.

He sits down a few feet away. Not close enough to touch. Close enough to wait.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

You wipe your face with your sleeve, still staring straight ahead. “Doesn’t really matter how you meant it.”

He exhales slowly. “I was just messing around.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know you’d take it like—”

“Jesus, Harry, stop.” You finally turn your head, eyes glassy. “It wasn’t the joke. It’s everything. You haven’t noticed anything, not really. You think I’m just being moody or weird or whatever, but I’ve been drowning this whole week. And you made me feel like I was annoying for it.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You look away again. “Remember the other night? When I said my friend felt like too much?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

You wipe under your eye. “It wasn’t a friend. It was me.”

His whole body stills.

“I feel like too much all the time,” you say quietly. “Like I’m ruining the vibe or dragging people down or just being this… dead weight. And you just made me feel worse.”

The wind moves your hair across your cheek. You don’t push it away.

“I’m trying, you know? I’m trying really fucking hard to keep up and not fall apart and smile when I’m supposed to and do my job and be cool and not ruin everything. But I can’t fake it anymore. I feel like I’m breaking into pieces, and you were supposed to be the one person who saw me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

You glance over. His face is pale, the line of his jaw tight.

“I didn’t know,” he finally says, voice rough. “I swear to god, I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t looking.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I’m so sorry. That was… I was an idiot. I thought you just needed space, or rest, or... I don’t know. I didn’t want to push.”

“You didn’t have to push. You just had to ask.”

He presses his hands to his face for a second, rubbing hard, like he’s trying to scrub the guilt off.

“I’m not gonna be the reason you cry. Not again.”

You laugh once, bitter. “Little late.”

“I know.”

You sit there in silence for a while. The city below is still alive. Cars moving like blood through veins. Somewhere, someone’s playing music through an open window.

He shifts closer. Just a little. He doesn’t reach for you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel small,” he says, quieter now. “You’re not. You’ve never been. You walk into a room and I feel it every time.”

Your heart kicks once, startled.

“I’ve been pretending I don’t see it,” he continues, “because if I do, I have to deal with what that means. And I was scared. Still am.”

You glance at him. “Scared of what?”

He looks at you fully. There’s nothing flippant in his face now. No teasing. Just the weight of something real.

“Of what happens if I feel everything I’m already feeling. Of fucking it up. Of hurting you.”

“You already did.”

“I know.”

He moves closer again. You don’t stop him.

“I want to fix it,” he says. “I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

You let the silence stretch between you. The tears haven’t come back yet. Your chest still feels hollow, but not as sharp.

You don’t forgive him. Not yet.

But you don’t walk away, either.

The next morning, there’s a knock on your hotel door. You open it to find him holding a to-go cup and a paper bag. He doesn’t say anything dramatic. Just hands you the coffee and smiles, sheepish.

“Figured you might want breakfast in peace,” he says. “Got your weird order. The eggy thing.”

You take the bag slowly. “You remembered?”

“Course I did.”

The coffee’s perfect. He got the sugar right. That detail makes your throat tighten more than it should.

Over the next couple days, he doesn’t push. He just shows up in little ways. Keeps his teasing gentle, his jokes safe. He lets you move through the space between you at your own pace. He lingers in the wings during soundcheck, sends you a dumb meme when he knows you’re holed up editing photos, plays your favorite song on his phone during van rides.

When you meet eyes across the room now, he doesn’t look away.

That night in Madrid, you find yourself alone with him again, in his suite, post-show. There’s a calmness to the moment that didn’t exist before. You’re both quieter, steadier. You’re sitting on his bed, scrolling through photos from the last venue, and he’s lying beside you, one arm slung behind his head, watching the ceiling like it’s saying something only he can hear.

He turns to you, suddenly serious.

“I think I’ve been pretending I don’t feel anything because if I do... this gets messy.”

You look up.

His eyes meet yours. “But I can’t ignore it anymore. Not after everything. I don’t want to.”

You don’t speak. You’re too scared of tipping the balance. He inches closer, voice softer now.

“I didn’t just miss the signs because I was distracted. I missed them because I was scared. Of how much I care about you. Of how much you matter to me. I’ve never had that in someone I see every day. It’s terrifying.”

You let the silence sit there. He deserves to squirm for a second.

“Terrifying, huh?” you finally say.

He smiles weakly. “I’m not good at this.”

“You’re really not.”

He laughs under his breath, sits up on his elbow to face you better. “Can I ask something and not ruin this?”

“That’s a strong maybe.”

“If I kissed you right now... would that be a mistake?”

Your pulse kicks. You look at him, really look. His face is open in a way it hasn’t been in days. No swagger. Just nerves and hope and something that looks a lot like regret.

You don’t say anything. You just lean in.

When your lips meet, it’s not a firework. It’s a match catching slow. Soft and warm and aching with everything that hasn’t been said. He kisses you like he’s trying to tell you everything he missed. Like he’s making up for every second he looked past you.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

You touch his face, shake your head. “Don’t ruin it.”

He kisses you again. Longer this time. Deeper. No performance, no pressure. Just need.

You don’t know where this goes. You’re not even sure what happens next.

But for the first time in days, maybe weeks, your chest feels quiet.

And he’s still here.

Trying.

Looking right at you.

You think that should make it easier to breathe, and in some ways it does, but in others it’s worse. Because now you can feel everything again. The weight of his eyes, the stretch of silence between each touch, the heat pooling low in your belly just from the way he says your name. You’re not numb anymore, and that’s almost more terrifying than being invisible.

Later, in the quiet of your hotel room, you lie in bed under the thin sheets, staring at the ceiling. Sleep won’t come. Your body is too aware of the space around you, too charged with something you’ve been holding back for too long. You hear voices out in the hallway, a door closing, the faint creak of footsteps outside your own.

Then there’s a soft knock.

You don’t move. You know it’s him. You knew he’d come. Part of you thought he might just leave it at that kiss, at the admission hanging between you like fog. Another part of you knew he couldn’t. Not tonight.

You pull the sheet higher and call out, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s open.”

He enters slowly, like the room might bite him. He closes the door gently behind him, eyes sweeping over you, lips parted like he’s mid-thought but not ready to speak. You sit up, press your back to the headboard, heart ticking louder than it should.

Harry doesn’t say anything at first. He walks to the edge of the bed and pauses, not reaching for you. Just standing there, like he's trying to work up the nerve.

“I know it’s late,” he says. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking.”

You nod once, not trusting your voice.

“I want to make this right.” He lowers to his knees in front of you, hands braced on the edge of the bed. “Let me take care of you. Please. Let me show you you’re not too much. Not for me.”

Your breath catches. He looks up at you with something close to reverence, like he’s asking permission to worship. You reach out, fingers threading through his curls, and that’s all the answer he needs.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Then your wrist. Then your bare shoulder, slow and unhurried, like he’s mapping you. You feel every brush of his mouth like it’s the first time you’ve ever been touched.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says softly.

You don’t.

His lips ghost over your cheek, then your jaw. His hand slides up under your shirt, palm warm and steady against your waist. He doesn’t rush. Just moves slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he pushes too fast. The way he touches you is different. It’s not just want. It’s apology. It’s awe.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, mouth against your skin. “So perfect. Can’t believe I ever made you think otherwise.”

You close your eyes as his hands travel up, sliding your shirt over your head with a care that makes your throat ache. He looks at you like he’s seeing you properly now, like every inch of you matters. His fingers skim over your ribs, your sides, down the dip of your waist like you’re something sacred.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“I know.” You laugh a little, but it’s shaky too. “I’m just… it’s a lot.”

“I’ll go slow.”

He does.

Every kiss is deliberate. His mouth trails down your stomach, each press of his lips grounding you more. When he finally pushes your underwear down, he does it like he’s unwrapping a gift. Like he’s been waiting for this for longer than he wants to admit.

He settles between your thighs, eyes flicking up once to make sure you’re still okay. You nod, hand trembling slightly where it rests on the sheets. He doesn’t hesitate after that.

The first lick is gentle, testing. His tongue moves slow, measured, like he’s learning you. Like this is something he wants to get exactly right. You gasp, fingers clenching in the bedding. He hums at the sound and keeps going, a little more sure now, a little deeper.

He holds your hips in place when you twitch, one hand sliding up to intertwine with yours. His thumb strokes across your knuckles as his mouth works you open, coaxing every shiver, every gasp from your lips. He doesn’t say much, just quiet praises when you arch into him, when your breath catches in that specific way.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod, a little frantically, tears stinging behind your eyes because no one’s ever looked at you like this while you fell apart.

He keeps going, unrelenting, steady. He doesn’t stop until you come with a soft cry, thighs trembling around his shoulders, your free hand fisting the sheet like it’s the only thing tethering you to earth. You feel yourself break open a little. Not from the pleasure, but from how safe it feels.

You’re crying before you even realize it.

Harry pulls back slowly, blinking up at you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Too much?” he asks, already reaching for you, gentle.

You shake your head, tears slipping down your temples. “No. I just… it’s a lot. But in a good way. You’re… being too kind.”

He crawls up the bed and cradles your face. “This isn’t kindness. This is what you deserve.”

You laugh wetly. “Now you’re just laying it on thick.”

“I mean it.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and sweet. “You deserve to be handled like you matter. Because you do.”

You press your face into his shoulder, still trembling. He holds you there, hand rubbing up and down your back, grounding you.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he whispers into your hair. “I just wanted to show you.”

You believe him. God, you believe him.

And for the first time in what feels like weeks, you don’t feel too much.

You just feel wanted.

He’s still holding you, still brushing his fingers along your spine like he can soothe every inch of tension out of your body if he’s just gentle enough. You’re warm everywhere, heavy and loose in your limbs, but your heart’s still tight with all the things you’ve been carrying. You shift under him, just enough to look up, and he catches your face in his hands like you might vanish if he lets go.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You nod, eyes glassy but clear. “I want you.”

He freezes for half a second, like he’s trying to convince himself this is real. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

His mouth curves, just a little. Not a smirk. Just something soft. Something grateful.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s reading a prayer. Your fingers move to the waistband of his briefs, and he lets you, pulling them down just enough, like he’s been waiting for permission this whole time. You feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, but he doesn’t rush. Doesn’t shift forward until he’s looked you in the eye again.

“This okay?”

You reach up, touch his cheek, whisper, “Yeah.”

He pushes in slowly, careful, like he’s still afraid he might hurt you without meaning to. The stretch burns in the sweetest way, and you bite your lip, blinking up at him as he bottoms out. He holds there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard like he’s trying to stay grounded.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he says, almost a whisper. “Been dreaming about this… about you.”

Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking. You curl into him, one hand slipping into his hair, the other finding his hand and squeezing tight. He laces your fingers together instantly, like it’s instinct.

He starts moving, slow and deep, every thrust more like a kiss than anything else. You feel it everywhere. Not just in your body but in the way he looks at you, in the way he murmurs your name like it’s made of silk. He doesn’t stop touching you, doesn’t stop telling you how perfect you are, how he’s never wanted anything like this before.

“I’ve got you,” he says, over and over, like it’s a promise he needs to repeat until it’s etched into your skin. “You’re safe with me. I’ve got you.”

You believe him.

Your chest tightens as the feeling builds. It’s not just the pleasure, it’s the emotion of it. The way you’ve been holding back for so long, pretending not to care, pretending not to want. It all cracks open at once. He moves a little deeper, his nose brushing yours, and it just breaks you.

You cry without meaning to, a soft sob pulling from your chest as you start to fall apart under him. He freezes, eyes wide, pulling back just enough to see your face.

“Hey… hey, look at me,” he whispers, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “You okay?”

You nod, breath catching. “I just… it’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You hold onto him tighter as he picks up that rhythm again, deeper now, more connected. His hand stays locked with yours, your bodies rocking together like they’ve done this a hundred times. Every thrust is a thread stitching something back together inside you.

You feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, burning up your spine, and he must feel it too because he leans in close, presses his forehead to yours, breath shaking against your mouth.

“You close?” he asks, voice cracking. “I can feel you…”

You nod frantically, pulling him in tighter with your legs. “Yeah… yeah, don’t stop.”

He kisses you through it, one final deep thrust pushing you over the edge. You clench around him with a choked sob, crying against his mouth as the wave crashes through you. He follows seconds later, groaning your name into your neck, his whole body trembling as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t move for a long time.

Just stays there, holding you, breathing into your shoulder, your fingers still tangled, your hearts thudding against each other like they’re trying to sync.

You cry again, quietly this time, not from pain, not from sadness, just release. It feels like letting go of something you didn’t realize you were gripping so tightly.

He kisses the corner of your eye and whispers, “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

Eventually, when the silence feels calm instead of heavy, he pulls out gently and kisses your stomach. He doesn’t say anything as he gets up and walks to the bathroom. You think he’s just going to grab a towel, but you hear the water running, the quiet sound of the tub filling. A few minutes later he comes back, naked except for the hoodie he’s tugged over his head, arms open.

“Come on,” he says, voice soft. “Let me take care of you a little longer.”

You let him lift you into the bath, warm water curling around your body like a sigh. He sits behind you, legs bracketing yours, pulling you back against his chest. His hands move through your hair slowly, massaging your scalp like he’s done it a thousand times. You close your eyes, let yourself lean into it. Let yourself be taken care of.

He kisses the top of your head. “Still with me?”

“Barely,” you mumble. “Floating.”

“Good.” He smiles against your temple. “You deserve to float.”

He stays until the water starts to cool. Towels you off gently, hands reverent. Helps you into clean clothes. His hoodie, soft and warm, the sleeves a little too long. You don’t even try to stop the yawn that pulls from your chest as he guides you back to the bed.

He slides in beside you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you onto his chest. His fingers trace slow shapes on your back. You listen to his heartbeat until it slows.

You’re almost asleep when you hear his voice again, low and close.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner.”

You don’t answer. You just bury your face in his neck and hold him tighter.

He kisses your hair and whispers, “I’ll do better. I swear.”

He stays awake long after your breathing evens out, still stroking your back, whispering things too soft for you to hear.

Not leaving.

Not this time.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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[dimonds456]

Hi it's the tooth positivity guy again. I worded this poorly but then the post blew up too much to go back and properly make amends, so here is a new post

If you can't take care of your teeth properly, or just straight-up don't, or whatever, that is also okay! ADHD, sensory shit, poor muscle coordination, allergies, ect. all of that are valid and you are also valid and should not be made fun of for your teeth!

And yes, teeth ARE naturally yellow or grey. The white-thing is, apparently, a very American-centric thing that can actually damage your teeth more, based on what I'm learning in the tags, so yeah, extra fuck that.

Make peace with all teeth. That is all. You all are beautiful, have beautiful smiles, and you should not ever feel ashamed at the prospect of showing joy to others. I love you.

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗐𝗈)

Rafe Cameron x Reader | Part One

a/n: Here's part two! Thank you for all the love on this mini series. I'll be posting part three on Monday!

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: language, slight angst

wc: 2.4k+

Your date with JJ was going surprisingly well. Dinner at the club had been set up by Sarah—she knew JJ wouldn’t exactly be the “wine and dine” type on his own but figured he’d appreciate the effort. To his credit, he carried the conversation effortlessly, keeping you laughing and genuinely interested.

“Sarah was nice to set this up,” JJ said, his trademark grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, dinner was great!” you replied, your bubbly tone matching the sparkle in your eyes.

JJ leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What do you say we finish the night a little more Pogue style?” he asked, his smirk dripping with mischief.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, curious. “And what does that entail?”

“A kegger at the Boneyard,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “We’ll take my bike. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

You couldn’t help but smile. The club was elegant, sure, but it felt lifeless—hardly what you’d call a Saturday night. A bonfire and a few drinks sounded like the perfect way to round out the evening. “Okay, I’m in!”

JJ’s grin widened as he stood, offering you his hand. He led you out of the club and to his bike, pulling the helmet off the handlebars. “Safety first,” he said with a wink, holding it out to you.

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you bit your lip, taking the helmet from him. You slipped it on and climbed onto the bike, your sundress brushing against his jeans as you wrapped your arms snugly around his waist.

“Ready?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Definitely,” you replied, your voice filled with excitement.

JJ revved the engine, and the bike roared to life beneath you. The wind whipped through your hair, and you let out a delighted squeal as the adrenaline rushed through your veins. The sunset painted the world in warm hues of orange and pink as the scenery blurred past. For those few moments, you felt completely free.

The ride ended too soon, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to the Boneyard. JJ helped you off the bike, his hands brushing yours as you removed the helmet and shook out your beachy waves. The soft breeze teased the hem of your dress as you adjusted it, your cheeks flushed from the ride.

Rafe saw you the moment you arrived. He’d heard the rumble of JJ’s bike and had turned just in time to see you hop off, your arms still lingering around JJ’s waist. His heart skipped a beat—first from concern at seeing you on a motorcycle, then from something much darker.

He watched you in silence, his grip tightening around the drink in his hand. You moved effortlessly, like something out of a dream, your smile lighting up the beach as you waved hello to everyone. JJ had an arm draped casually around your shoulders, and the proud, almost smug look on his face made Rafe’s blood boil.

He sipped his drink, trying to ignore the sharp twist in his chest as you ran off to Sarah, no doubt eager to gush about the date. He turned back to the bonfire, pretending not to notice you spotting him from across the flames. But then you waved, your excitement palpable. Rafe mustered a smile and waved back, the motion feeling heavier than it should have.

“Hey, Rafey!” you called, bounding toward him.

“Hey,” he replied, forcing a grin as you wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. The scent of your perfume lingered in the air, softening him for just a moment.

“How was your date?” he asked, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“It actually went really well!” you beamed, your enthusiasm making his heart sink. “JJ’s really funny,” you added, glancing back at the boy in question. JJ was deep in conversation with Pope and Kiara, gesturing animatedly.

Rafe swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he fought to keep his tone light. “Good. I’m glad,” he said, though the words tasted bitter. Glad? He wasn’t glad. He wasn’t anywhere close to glad. He was furious, jealous, and heartbroken all at once.

You didn’t seem to notice his strained smile, too focused on the drinks table. “I just came to grab some drinks,” you explained, filling two cups with beer from the keg. “But don’t worry—tomorrow, I’m all yours! I’ll bring lunch, and we can finish unpacking your place.”

Rafe forced a smile. “Sounds perfect,” he said, even though the idea of unpacking felt hollow compared to the sight of you glowing after your date.

You flashed him one last dazzling smile before hurrying back to JJ, the two drinks in hand. Rafe’s eyes followed you helplessly as you leaned into JJ, handing him a cup and laughing in a way Rafe had never seen before. It was a carefree, uninhibited laugh—like JJ had unlocked a piece of you that Rafe hadn’t been able to reach.

And then he saw it.

JJ tilted your chin up with his hand, his lips brushing softly against yours in a way that felt both casual and intimate. The sight hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening as a sharp sting pricked his eyes. He blinked hard, willing the tears away.

“You good, dude?” Topper’s voice broke through the haze. He clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder, offering him another beer.

Rafe’s gaze didn’t waver from the two of you down the beach. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his voice was hollow.

Topper followed his line of sight and let out a low whistle. “Damn,” he said simply, patting Rafe on the back. “Come on, dude. Let’s get shitfaced.”

Rafe tore his eyes away from you, taking the beer from Topper. He didn’t trust himself to look at you again. Instead, he drained the cup in one long gulp, the alcohol doing little to dull the ache in his chest.

Because for the first time, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what jealousy felt like. And it wasn’t just jealousy—it was fear. Fear that he might have already lost you to someone else. Fear that he’d never be able to tell you just how much you meant to him.

You weren’t just a fleeting crush, or some girl who came and went. You were Y/N. His best friend. His ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world.

And now, you might never be his.

Despite your pounding headache and a stomach still queasy from the night before, you kept your promise to Rafe. You had fallen asleep peacefully in JJ’s arms on the beach, lulled by the soft crash of waves and the warmth of his embrace. But the morning was far less forgiving. The bright sunrise pierced through your closed eyelids, the wind stung your skin, and the sand clung stubbornly to every surface.

JJ had been sweet, though, giving you a ride back to your car, still parked at the club. He kissed you goodbye, his lips soft but brief, and you couldn’t help but smile as you drove to Rafe’s house.

“Hey!” you greeted, your usual cheerful tone intact, though your face gave away the telltale signs of a hangover.

Rafe opened the door, his expression soft but guarded. “Hey,” he replied with a half-smile, stepping aside to let you in.

The moment you flopped onto his couch, Rafe went into caretaker mode. He handed you a liquid IV packet and a greasy breakfast sandwich, his silent way of nursing you back to life.

“You’re the fucking best,” you said through a mouthful of bacon, smiling as the salty, greasy goodness worked its magic. “Thank you!”

Rafe smiled back, but his eyes told a different story. Beneath the surface, there was something heavy, something unspoken.

“Are you okay?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you studied his face.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, brushing off your concern. “Just had a bit too much to drink last night, too.” He averted his gaze, avoiding the real reason for his melancholy.

Before you could press him further, a knock at the door interrupted. Sarah burst in, John B trailing behind her.

“Ugh, kill me now!” Sarah groaned dramatically, throwing herself into your arms. “Why did we drink so much?!”

You chuckled, smoothing down her knotted hair. “Because we’re dumbasses,” you teased, and she whined in agreement.

“What are you guys doing here?” Rafe asked, his voice tinged with mild annoyance. “We already moved all the furniture.”

“Needed to get away from the house,” John B said, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Figured we’d help unpack.”

You glanced at Rafe, offering a soft, understanding smile. You had been looking forward to spending the day alone with him. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you wanted to help him let it out. But with Sarah and John B here, that wasn’t going to happen.

Rafe’s smile in return was faint and sad. There it was again—the longing in his eyes, the weight of words left unsaid. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it tugged at your heart.

The day dragged on for Rafe. While he and John B worked in tense silence, he could hear your laughter from the other room as Sarah bombarded you with questions about JJ.

“So, do you like him?” Sarah asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Yeah, the date was great,” you admitted, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks. “I’d love to see him again.”

The words were like shards of glass in Rafe’s ears, cutting deep. His stomach churned with every mention of JJ’s name, and it only got worse as the conversation continued.

“Can you guys talk about anything else?” John B finally said, shooting a pointed look at Sarah.

Sarah rolled her eyes but giggled, turning the conversation toward the TV show you’d been binging together.

Rafe visibly relaxed at the shift in topic, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

“You like her, don’t you?” John B asked quietly, his voice low enough that you and Sarah couldn’t hear.

“Is it that obvious?” Rafe replied, placing books on the shelf in front of him, his movements deliberate and slow.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

Rafe hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “She doesn’t feel the same,” he said finally. “We’re just friends.”

“How do you know?”

“Don’t you hear the way she talks about him?” Rafe gestured toward the living room where your laughter rang out like music. “She’s happy. That’s all I want for her.”

John B studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Look, man. JJ’s my best friend, and he’s a great guy. But…”

“But what?” Rafe asked, his voice sharp with urgency.

“But JJ will move on,” John B said, his tone calm and measured. “If it doesn’t work out, he’ll be fine. He’s got options—Kiara’s had a thing for him forever anyway.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he absorbed John B’s words. He wanted to believe them, wanted to think there was still a chance for him. But after a long moment, he shook his head.

“It’s not my choice,” Rafe said quietly. “It’s hers. If JJ makes her happy, then that’s what matters. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined it for her.”

John B nodded, his respect for Rafe growing. “That’s big of you,” he said.

Rafe didn’t respond, his focus fixed on a box of photo frames.

He knew what it would mean to keep quiet—to watch from the sidelines as you fell deeper into someone else’s arms. But no matter how much it hurt, he wasn’t going to risk your happiness. If things didn’t work out with JJ, Rafe would be there to pick up the pieces. And if they did, he’d swallow his pain and smile for you—even if it killed him inside.

Because to Rafe, your happiness was worth more than his own.

-

John B and Sarah called it a day around 6 p.m., leaving just you and Rafe on the balcony. The sun was still hanging low in the summer sky, casting everything in a warm, golden light. The air was soft and salty, carrying the gentle crash of waves from the shore below. You and Rafe cracked jokes and laughed, sipping cold beers as the hours melted into one another.

Rafe’s smile seemed effortless, and you relished seeing him that way. What you didn’t notice was the way his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking—admiring the way your sun-kissed skin glowed and the way your beachy waves fell perfectly over your shoulders. It felt peaceful, like nothing could disturb the calm of the moment.

Until your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen, and a wide smile stretched across your face. Rafe noticed instantly, his heart sinking as he already knew who it was.

“Hey, uh, JJ wants to pick me up,” you said, your tone light. “Is it okay if I leave my car here for now?”

Rafe’s smile faltered, replaced by a frown he couldn’t hide.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your brow furrowing with concern.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he muttered, his voice clipped and cold as he took another swig of beer.

“Rafe… is something wrong?” you pressed, sensing the shift in his mood.

“Nope,” he said flatly, standing abruptly and heading inside.

You scoffed, setting your beer down as you followed after him. “Something is obviously wrong, Rafe,” you said, your voice firm but confused. “I’ve seen it in your eyes these past few days. Just tell me what’s going on!”

Rafe stopped, his jaw tight as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “Just go, Y/N. Get out,” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air between you.

You froze, stunned. Rafe had never spoken to you like this before. Tears pricked your eyes as you processed his words. For a moment, you wanted to yell back, to demand an explanation, but the lump in your throat made it impossible.

“I’ll get out,” you whispered, grabbing your bag with trembling hands. You texted JJ to meet at his house instead, desperate to get far away from Rafe.

Rafe watched from the window as your car disappeared down the road. The weight of regret settled over him. He clenched his fists, hating himself for lashing out at you. You didn’t deserve that. Not even close.

In an attempt to dull the pain, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and locked himself in his room, determined to drink away the ache in his chest.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[viasdiary]

☆ i'm yours (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 2.4k

☆ warnings: slightly toxic, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, not really proofread

☆ after taking a break from each other, you decide you should make it permanent. you invite luigi over to break up with him but he's got something else in mind.

luigi was so wrong for you, but you couldn't get enough of him. even after you'd broken up and gotten back together time and time again, you'd always end up back with him. this time was different though. you'd found someone to take your mind off of luigi, someone who made you feel so good about yourself. you were finally ready to let him go.

sitting on the couch in your living room, you pick up your phone and call luigi. he picks up after the first ring.

“hey what’s up,” he says, aiming to sound nonchalant but miserably falling short. he sounded like he'd been longing to hear you so badly.

“hey lu,” you say, feeling a pang of intense guilt. he has absolutely no idea what’s coming next.

“i’ve been meaning to uh-” you begin to say, before realizing you just don't have the heart to break up with him over the phone.

"why don't you come over tonight?" you suggest, your voice softer now, as if you’re bracing yourself for the weight of the words. "there’s something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about”

“uh yeah, i can probably be over in about an hour”

you nod, even though he can't see you. your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, and you press your lips together, trying to steady your breathing.

"okay, yea. i'll be here," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

the call ends before you can say anything else, and the sudden silence in the room feels almost suffocating. you stare at the screen of your phone, the echo of luigi’s voice still lingering in your ears. an hour.

you sit there for a moment, trying to gather yourself. you fidget with the hem of your sweater anxiously. the weight of what you’re about to do presses down on you, and you wonder if you’re making a mistake. but deep down, you know this is the right thing. you’ve been holding on for too long, and it’s time to let go.

the clock on the wall ticks louder than usual as the minutes slip by, each one pulling you closer to the moment when you’ll have to look him in the eyes and finally say the words. the words you’ve been avoiding, the ones that will end everything.

you stand up, pacing the small space of your living room bathed in the amber glow of the sunset shining through your window. you're not sure what to do with your hands, or your mind for that matter. the thought of luigi showing up here, of seeing him and feeling that familiar pull, makes your stomach twist. it’s always been like this—he’s always been like this. he’ll look at you with those wide brown eyes, and you’ll almost forget why you need to let go.

but you can’t forget. not this time.

the doorbell rings, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you take a deep breath, walking toward the door. you hesitate for a moment before pulling it open, the sight of him standing there in a navy sweater and baggy jeans, his dark curls slightly disheveled, still somehow perfect in his own way—makes everything inside you ache.

"hey," he says softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, but there's something different now. he doesn’t know it yet, but things are about to change forever.

you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. "come on in."

as he steps over the threshold, you brace yourself. this is it.

before you can open your mouth, his hand finds its way beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head upwards as he plants his lips onto yours. you melt into the kiss, placing your hands against his chest as he pulls you closer, and for a moment, you forget everything. the warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way his body fits perfectly against yours—it all comes rushing back, threatening to sweep away your resolve.

but then you remember why he's here, why you called him over. with a sharp intake of breath, you pull away, gently pushing against his chest. luigi looks at you, confused.

"what's wrong?" he asks, his hand still lingering on your waist.

you step back, creating some distance between you. the space feels charged, heavy with unspoken words.

"lu, we need to talk," you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

his thick eyebrows furrow, and you can see the concern etched across his face. "okay," he says slowly, following you as you lead him to the couch.

you sit down, leaving a little space between the two of you, and you just let it all out.

“i don't think this is gonna work for us anymore. i’ve been talking to someone else and i've kinda just had some realizations about us and i think we've outgrown this.”

its impossible to read his face as you continue speaking.

“i care a lot about you and i'd love to stay friends, maybe even-”

before you can finish he interrupts you with a soft chuckle.

“you think you're gonna sit me down and kick me to the curb? yea, that’s just not how tonight's gonna go.”

you feel a chill run down your spine at his words, his tone shifting from the warmth you're used to into something colder. your heart begins to race as you realize this isn't going the way you planned.

"luigi, please," you start, but he cuts you off again.

"no, you listen to me," he says, leaning in closer. his eyes, usually so soft and inviting, now hold a glint that makes you want to shrink away. "we've been through this before. you think you want to leave, but you always come back. always."

you shake your head, trying to find your voice. "this time is different. i've changed, we’ve changed"

"changed?" luigi scoffs, his hand suddenly gripping your arm. "you haven't changed. you're still the same person who needs me, who loves me. you're just confused right now. you know you fucking love me.”

your gaze shifts to his lips, pressed into a hard line, and then to his strong jawline.

you want so badly to tell him he's wrong, but he's not. you still love him, and as he's sitting on your couch next to you and as you look at his handsome face, you know exactly why you chose him.

you feel your resolve weakening, your carefully planned words crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. luigi's grip on your arm loosens slightly, his thumb now tracing small circles on your skin. the familiar touch sends shivers through you.

"i..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. you want to tell him he's wrong, that you've moved on, but the lie won't come.

luigi leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "tell me you don't love me," he whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this."

you turn to face him, your noses almost touching. his brown eyes are full of anger, hurt, and desire. you open your mouth to speak, to end this once and for all, but no sound comes out.

instead, you find yourself leaning into him, your lips meeting his in a desperate, passionate kiss. your hands tangle in his curls as he pulls you closer, erasing any remaining space between you. the familiar electricity of his touch ignites something within you, and for a moment, all your doubts and reservations melt away.

but as quickly as it began, reality comes crashing back. you break away, gasping for air, your mind reeling. "no," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "no, we can't do this."

luigi's eyes flash with a mix of triumph and frustration. "we already are," he says, his voice low and intense. "you can't deny what's between us. you never could." 

he places his hand behind your neck and pulls you close again, his lips brushing yours. you melt into him. god, you missed him so much, his touch, his voice, his body. with every movement of his lips, every stroke of his hand, he was righting his wrongs. his hand trails up your thigh, pushing up your skirt. 

the way he touches you feels so nice, and your body responds against your will. his fingers trace patterns on your skin, sending shivers through you. as his hand snakes higher up your leg, you feel an aching need for him.

he breaks the kiss as he gently pulls you onto his lap, his hands planted firmly on your thighs as he places kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“you’re so perfect for me.” he says, barely a whisper.

“and i know i’m perfect for you too,” he continues, his eyes scanning your face as he says it. he looks so beautiful like this. the golden light of the sunset bathing him in an amber glow, shining through his curls and making his dark brown eyes shimmer.

he finds the hem of your sweater and slowly slips underneath.  he runs his large hands across your bare skin skin.

as he begins to lift your sweater, the realization of what's happening hits you, and you place your hands on his chest, prepared to push away from him, but you can't. you hate that he feels so good. you hate that you want him so badly.

you lean forward and kiss him, hard. luigi moans against your lips, and you can feel his erection straining against his jeans.

you break the kiss and begin to lift his sweater, running your free hand over his abs, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. he helps you get his sweater off, and then reaches for your sweater. in one swift movement, he pulls it off, tossing it aside. he pauses, his gaze raking over your exposed skin, before leaning in and planting a kiss on your collarbone.

he cups your breast and starts sucking on it. you bite your lip, trying not to moan.

he stops and looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire. 

"god, i've missed this," he breathes.

"i missed you" you admit breathlessly.

you run your fingers through his soft, dark curls, the smell of his cologne intoxicating you as you move yourself back and forth slowly, rubbing yourself along his leg. the thin fabric of your underwear begins to dampen, and the friction only heightens your desire.

you lean in and kiss him, the taste of his tongue in your mouth making you shudder with pleasure. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, the feel of his skin against yours is unreal.

luigi slides his hands up and down your thighs as his mouth finds the delicate skin on the side of your neck.

"look at you, so fucking impatient. riding my leg to get yourself off" he says against your skin.

"he's not fucking you right, is he?" he whispers, his hand creeping under your skirt and finding the wet spot in your panties.

"no," you admit.

"that's too bad," he says, sliding his fingers under the edge of your panties and brushing them against your clit.

you gasp at his touch, grinding yourself against him.

your hips buck at the contact, and you let out a small moan.

"you're fucking soaked for me," he breathes, slipping a finger inside of you.

"luigi, please," you beg, grinding against his hand.

he adds a second finger, and you moan, arching your back and pressing yourself against him.

"god, look at you," he whispers, his voice thick with lust.

"i know he doesn't make you fuckin' sound like this" he says, more intensely this time.

"please luigi, just fuck me."

"not yet." he says, continuing to finger you and using his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

"lu," you whine, squirming and bucking your hips.

"so fuckin' needy," he says, a smirk spreading across his face.

you whimper, biting your lip and grabbing his shoulder, desperately clinging to him.

he keeps working his fingers, and you can feel your orgasm building. you can barely breathe, the feeling of his fingers inside you is so intense.

"fuck, lu," you pant, your nails digging into his skin.

he speeds up his pace, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

"lu, i'm so fucking close," you say, the words slightly catching in your throat as he sends you over the edge.

you cry out, the sensation overwhelming you. he holds you close, kissing you as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

you rest your head on his shoulder, panting and trying to catch your breath.

"i'm not fuckin' done with you yet." luigi says, gently pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.

he stands up, and you watch as he unbuckles his belt, pulls off his jeans and boxers, freeing his thick cock. you lick your lips, taking in the sight of him.

he sits back down, and you crawl onto his lap, straddling him. he takes himself in his hand, stroking his length and guiding himself inside of you.

"oh god," you moan, feeling him stretch you.

"that's right," he breathes, his voice low and husky.

he begins to thrust into you, and the feeling is incredible. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair and breathing in his scent.

"fuck," he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you onto him.

you feel the pressure building again, the heat in the pit of your stomach growing with each thrust.

"lu," you whimper, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"tell me," he says, his voice strained. "tell me how much you fucking miss this."

"i miss this so much," you say, your breath ragged.

"tell me," he pants, his rhythm getting faster and more erratic. "tell me you want this, tell me you need this."

"i need this, lu, fuck, i need you," you moan, the heat in your stomach growing.

"say it," he demands, his voice tight and strained.

"i'm yours, lu, i'm fucking yours," you cry, the pressure becoming unbearable.

he moves mercilessly, and with every thrust you feel him stretching you out, your slick spreading up and down his cock. he grabs your ass firmly with both hands, moving you up and down roughly, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room.

"where do you want it, baby?"

"fuck, please cum in me" you beg, your legs wrapping around his torso as he continues using you, roughly gripping your ass as he fucks you.

"good fuckin' girl. want me to fuck a baby into you, huh?" he says breathlessly. luigi groans deeply, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts up into you one final time. you feel him pulsing inside you as he finishes, filling you with his warmth. you come undone, the intensity of the orgasm tearing through you.

he buries his face in your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he releases inside you. you both sit there, breathing heavily, holding onto each other.

he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a smile playing at his lips.

"i guess this means i'm not getting rid of you, huh?"

[yourauthorjen]

| GOLDEN HOUR | — joaquin torres

(requests open)

masterlist

| synopsis: | it was just two lovers, sitting on the car listening to Blonde, falling for each other.

| includes: | joaquintorres x fem!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, flirting, sunsets, use of nicknames/pet names, mention of reader being bullied, alcohol consumption

| word count: | 2.1k

| a/n: | so i was listening to golden hour by jvke (if you couldn’t tell and i felt like i really had to write a scene of this. and i feel like this turned out a lot better than expected. the ending was lowkey rushed because i wanted to get this out asap.

FALL HAD JUST settled in, meaning that bonfire season had finally begun. Invitations to beach bonfires were handed out like party favours, alcohol and beer aisles had been stripped clean, and everyone was now making a beeline to their nearest beaches.

Unfortunately, Joaquin had also persuaded you into joining their shenanigans, which was why you were now stuck in his passenger seat, sulking with several cans of beer that had already become lukewarm.

“Admit it asshat, we’re lost,” you grumbled, watching him furrow his eyebrow at a passing highway sign.

"We're not lost," he said though he didn't sound too sure. "We're just... taking the scenic route."

"What you're saying is exactly what someone who's lost would say."

He didn't argue, just grinned like he always did, so full of himself but in a way you absolutely adored.

You sighed, staring out the window. The sun was dipping lower as you drove, shadows stretching across the road, painting he sky with golden and orange hues. You ripped apart one the plastic rings holding the beer cans together, and cracked the drink open.

"This is not the way to the beach," you mumbled, taking a long swig of beer, "Look, we're driving across a highway on a cliff, meaning the elevation is higher and we’re no where near getting down to the sand and water."

"C'mon mi vida,” he said “Don't be so grumpy. Consider it quality time with me."

You pretended to gag, but your heart skipped a beat at the nickname. "It's not quality time when you practically begged me to go with you. Why couldn't you go with someone else?"

He mocked a hurt face, "Because deep down you love me, and you still agreed to come with me in the end."

You jabbed a finger into his arm, "It’s called tolerating you, Joaquin. And don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," he hummed, and you let out a more than dramatic exhale. He was your closest friend the two of you glued to each others side ever since high school, and now through college. He was the person you found yourself running towards to no matter the occasion. He had taken you to prom when no one else asked you, he had picked up your broken pieces when everyone you know left you. He had lived through bruised knuckles and broken fingers when you couldn't muster the courage to defend yourself from people you called friends.

And as much as you wanted to tell him the words you spent years locked up in your chest, you couldn't tell him, because you were too afraid of what the consequences could lead to.

Instead you turned back to the window, and as you stared you couldn't help but notice the way the sky spilled in different colours across the horizon, the clouds gradient shades of lavender and peach, which if you were being honest was stunning.

Eventually, the road dipped and twisted again, taking you farther away from any recognizable landmark. The highway was secluded and silent, and as your fingers fidgeted nervously you finally decided to flick on the radio, humming as it turned to life.

"Frank Ocean? Really?"

"Hey," you interjected, "You don't get a say on this, not after you threw away my perfectly fine Spotify gift card."

"It was an accident!" he protested, “Besides I bought you a new one right after."

"Okay soldier, eyes on the road."

After a few more silent minutes of driving and twisting back and fourth around turns, Joaquin slowed the car and pulled off onto a gravel shoulder near a bend in the road that looked out over the sprawling ocean bathed in the last warmth of the day.

He cut the engine as you turned to him bewildered. "What're you doing?"

"Taking a break," he said, eyes glittering, "I'm gonna try and get some cell service."

The GPS on both your phones had long since stopped offering any useful guidance, opting instead to chirp the same same "GPS Signal Lost" every few miles.

You sighed, though your lips still twitched upwards against your will. He wasn't wrong, it was cooler up here, the wind catching your hair as you propped yourself onto the hood of Joaquin's car, letting yourself shut your eyes and enjoying the soft glow of sunshine casting onto your face.

"Well, that's one hell of a view." Joaquin said, joining you as he sat on top of the car, his shoulder brushing yours. "What do you think? This better than the bonfire?"

You cracked one eye open, pretending to ponder. "I don't know Joaquin, with the distinct possibility that we might be stranded here all night instead of me drinking beer until I fall face first into the sand really sounds a lot better."

Joaquin let out a laugh, deep and heartfelt, his dark curls falling into his eyes as his amused smile widened. It made your chest ache, seeing him so carefree and untroubled, the sunlight bringing out the gold flecks in his brown eyes. He smelled like spices and a hint of pine and with his hair tousled artfully, it made your resolve wobble just a little.

"Fine," you admitted, "I guess this is pretty okay."

"Just okay?"

You rolled your eyes. “Do you want me to take it back?"

“I’m just saying,” he replied, his lips curling into a smirk, “if this were a date, it wouldn't be bad.”

Your breath caught a little but you tilted your head toward him, trying to keep your voice light. “Is it a date?”

He looked back at you, his smile faltering in a way that told you for once there wasn't some ridiculous joke waiting behind it. “Would it be the worst thing if it was?”

The world seemed to still for a moment- a change shifting your world drastically, as his eyes found yours full of love and admiration she hadn't seen before. He waited for a response, but the only thing you could muster was a weak shake of your head, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

The silence between the two of you was palpable, and the music that was still playing in the car faded into nothing. Instead you were filled with the pounding of your heart crashing louder than the waves below.

"Friends don't usually go on dates, right?" you attempted meekly, taking a shaky breath.

His jaw ticked as he shifted towards you, his body facing yours and his eyes flickering with an expression that you couldn't tell if he was about to cry, laugh, or say something sarcastic. But when he finally spoke his voice was raw, painful, and quiet in a way that made your throat constrict.

"No. No they don't."

"Joaquin..." you tried, eyes pleading as you realized your mistake, "I didn't... I-"

"It's okay," he said softly, "I get it."

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes, before you grabbed his hands. They were warm but rough, his fingers curled around yours as you squeezed them tightly, silently begging for him not to leave.

He seemed to understand as you moved closer to him, close enough that your faces were only a few feet apart. You were close enough that your noses were almost touching, and close enough that you could see your reflection in his pupils. His eyes widened as your hair fell into your face, almost like a curtain hiding you away from the world as you leaned your forehead against his.

"No,” you pleaded again the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I love you, and I love you so much that I don't want to mess this up for the two of us."

His own eyes turned glassy as his forehead tipped forward to press more firmly against yours, like he needed to feel every inch of you, like just being that close wasn’t quite close enough.

“I don’t care if we mess it up,” he whispered, “I care if we don’t try.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers wrapping tighter around his. "I don’t… Please don't let me mess this up."

“You the part where I pretended I haven’t been in love with you since the first time we met?"

You cracked a watery smile as he pulled his hands out of yours, and gently cupped his hands to your face as he dipped his head and began pulling you closer and closer until—

His lips found yours, sweet with a hint of salt, and a taste that felt raw but so true. Your heart collided with your chest, as your hands found a way up to his jacket, fingers scrunching up around the fabric as he deepened the kiss.

This wasn't a drunken kiss you had once shared after a night out at the bar, nor was this the sisterly peck on the cheek you sometimes gave him for fun. This was something that you had never felt before, the warmth, the passion, and the love that you both felt so strongly for each other.

Your hands glimpsed the outline of his broad shoulders, as you both finally pulled away from each other. Your eyes darted over his sun-kissed face, and you couldn't help the stutter in your chest as his eyes softened.

"I love you too,” Joaquin breathed, "And if we’re stuck here for the rest of the night than so be it.”

You smiled—really smiled—and the heavy weight that had weighed you down for so many years finally lifted off your shoulders. It was the kind of feeling that no beach party or crowded bonfire could’ve given you.

“Then let’s get stranded,” you said, voice hoarse, as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Below you, the ocean stretched out endlessly, waves brushing the cliffs with a rhythm older than any map or compass. The sky had darkened to indigo, with just barely visible streaks of orange dotting the horizon. The stars were beginning to prick through the veil of night, and you could still hear the music from the radio playing low through the speakers—melancholy, and soft.

You felt the time slow down around you as you let Joaquin circle an arm around your waist. You let yourself be engulfed in this content moment, carefree and abiding.

You had Joaquin now.

And somehow, that felt like the way home was always supposed to look.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Evenfall

Imagine you wake up in Twilight as a random side character. (Part 7)

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

Previous -

It was strange to see the Cullen house empty. The setting sun casted a glorious, glow over the house. The white walls of the interior were incandescent with a reddish hue. The ornately decorated house was stunning as ever.

‘I really love your house.’ Y/N looked around slowly in awe. 

‘Y’know how to make your permanent residence here.’ Edward threw the keys into the bowl on the cabinet.

‘How scandalous! Proposing on the second date!’ Y/N jeered.

‘Ah this is a date?’ Edward raised his eyebrows in mirth, taking Y/N in by the waist. He smelt of lilac, honey and the sunlight. An intoxicating composition.

‘Guh…’ Y/N said intelligently, peering into Edwards' faultless face. The sunset was doing wonders for his skin, displaying a brilliant shimmer that danced across his face. ‘It's so unfair how pretty you are. I can’t form sentences.’ 

‘At least I have that going for me don’t I?’ Edward laughed, slowly leaning in. Y/N flickered her eyes closed, lacking the will to stop him. She really was only human after all.

The lack of pressure on her lips caused her to flutter her eyes back open, just as the cool forehead of Edward, met hers. His eyes were closed, perfectly full lips curved into a wistful smile as he breathed in deeply. Y/N gave a quiet laugh, placing a hand on Edward’s steady chest.

‘I wonder, if your heart was still beating, what would it feel like right now.’ She gave him an unintentionally sweet smile.

‘It’d be racing.’ He brushed a thumb over Y/N’s warm face. ‘I may not be a human Y/N but I still am a man.’ 

‘Men can be fickle creatures.’ Y/N noted, looking into Edward’s eyes, mesmerised by the subtle flecks of brown and gold.

‘That is true. Human men. I’m not human, remember?’ Edward pulled back looking smug. He reached for her hand, clasping his fingers over hers and led her toward the kitchen.

‘So, are you going to cook for me today?’ Y/N sat down on the barstool, holding her head up with her hands. The cool marble countertop was spotless, decorated with a basket of oranges and two bottles of wine that Y/N knew, cost more than her house.

‘That's right.’ He took off his overshirt and pushed up his sleeves. ‘I spent the entirety of last night watching the Food Network just in case you’d ever ask me to cook for you.’

Edward frowned slightly, opening the fridge and staring blankly into it. 

‘Though I had no idea it would be this soon.’ He muttered, looking adorably confused.

‘Was the Food Network helpful in your learning endeavours?’ Y/N chuckled, slipping off her seat and skipping over to stand beside Edward.

‘No.’ He grumbled, moving aside to let her see. ‘What the hell does season to taste mean? I don’t need to taste food. I don’t even eat it.’ He rolled his eyes goodnaturedly with a grin.

‘True, I always hate it when they say that. Just give me a measurement, right?’ Y/N pulled out some tomatoes and a packet of beef mince. ‘Where do you keep your herbs?’ 

‘On the windowsill, that big one over there. We grow them but it's not like we ever get to use them.’ Edward pointed.

‘How hard it must be for you my dear cold one.’ She rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Never need to eat other than to occasionally hunt animals. Why would anyone ever want to be a vampire?’ 

‘You never get to age. I’ll never know what it’s like to become old, be a father or a grandfather.’ Edward looked upset, leaning on the counter.

‘So you’d be against me becoming one of you if I asked?’ Y/N looked up, placing down the tomatoes, moving to stand opposite Edward. The look on his face looked like a wounded animal, conflicted and yearning.

‘Well, I…’ He began, his eyes darting around her form, as if trying to ingrain every last detail of her into his brain.

‘I don’t think it’s in me to deny you anything you ask for.’ He sighed, looking back down at the counter and picking up the tomatoes.  ‘So let's make you some pasta.’

‘You’re really good at cop out answers huh?’ Y/N snickered, moving to help him.

‘Yeah well, that's what boys do to stay out of trouble with their girlfriends.’ He smiled, turning on the tap and washing the tomatoes. Y/N noticed his slip in, and couldn't find it in herself to correct him

The pair ended up cooking together, Edward made sure that Y/N wasn’t anywhere near the chopping knives, instead putting her in charge of boiling and salting the water for the pasta. It was homely, domestic even.

Was this what life would be like if they were a married couple? Cooking, chatting for the rest of their lives? It didn’t seem too bad. Edward was a great conversationalist and Y/N’s past memories were able to bring some nuance in perspective.

Finally, the pasta was finished. The kitchen smelt wonderfully of warm, herbaceous, and meaty sauce.

‘Well, looks like we make a great team’ Y/N beamed, grabbing a fork as Edward set down a plate in front of her.

‘I concur.’ Edward smiled, setting down a glass of juice for Y/N.

‘Where’d you get this from?’ Y/N looked puzzled, she hadn’t spotted a carton of juice in the fridge.

‘Esme likes to grow orange trees and sometimes apples too. It’s one of her hobbies to pass the time other than interior decorating and architecture.’ He sat down next to her, swivelling his chair so he could watch her eat.

'Your family has a ton of cool hobbies.'

'That we do.'

‘Do you have to watch me chew?’ Y/N wrinkled her nose, pointing her fork accusingly at the boy.

‘Well I can’t watch you sleep so..’ He jested, raising an arm to defend himself from the imminent smack that the object of all his affections inflicted.

‘Why would you want to watch me sleep?’ She twirled around the pasta on her fork, lifting it to her lips to eat whilst Edward looked on, sighing before answering.

‘It’s not that I want to watch you sleep.’ He began, pushing back a strand of stray hair behind Y/N’s ear. ‘It’s just that, those are the only hours that I’m away from you. I can’t protect you, I can’t see you and it drives me nuts.’ 

‘I mean, I’ve survived this long.’ Y/N shrugged before eating another forkful of pasta.

‘Yeah, we see how that went with the van and everything.’ 

‘Touche.’

The rest of the conversation wasn’t remarkable enough to recount. Small talk filled with questions that were fired back with more questions. By then, the sun had fully set, the house no longer cast in a beautiful glow.

They had spent their time cleaning up the kitchen, talking about what foods they’d try to cook together next and possibly bake something too. 

It was getting late and Edward knew that he’d have to send Y/N home. It wasn’t something he wanted to do but he was quite sure that Charlie Swan would show up with his gun. Y/N had agreed so they both left the Cullen house reluctantly. 

The ride back home went quickly. Almost too quickly. 

As they pulled into the driveway, she could see the lights were still on (it being only around half past seven) in the kitchen. Something in Y/N’s chest fluttered when Edward leaned over to unbuckle her seatbelt for her.

‘I guess this is where we part ways.’ Edward smiled forlornly, his eyes tracing her face. 

‘Drive home and then come say goodnight. Charlie will think it's weird if your car doesn’t leave the premises.’ Y/N whispered, hoping that the darkness would cover the way she was fiddling with her fingers nervously. It didn't.

‘Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Leave your window open for me?’ Edward’s smile had become radiant, almost blinding. 

‘Yeah. Go, I’ll shower in the meantime. Don’t peek.’ She emphasised, opening the door hurriedly, not wanting Edward to sense her jitteriness. However, Y/N’s heart beat betrayed her, speeding up like music to Edward’s ears.

‘Be back soon Y/N/N.’ He murmured, just before Y/N closed the passenger side door. She waved as he pulled away, all but running up the path and opening the door with her keys.

Y/N greeted Bella and Charlie on the way in, waving at them whilst explaining that she was tired and was going to shower and then sleep after. 

Charlie had asked if Y/N had eaten dinner yet to which the girl nodded and Charlie in turn looked pleased. Bella however looked slightly jealous. 

‘Tomorrow night, do you want to come with me and dad to the diner?’ Bella gave a hopeful smile, turning her body toward Y/N.

‘Yeah that sounds good! You and I can head there after school!’ Y/N agreed easily, whilst taking off her shoes.

‘Okay, I’m going to go shower and then head to bed. Good night guys!’ 

To which a quick duet of ‘Goodnight’s’ was replied with.

Rushing upstairs she headed into her room, skipping every second step. Y/N opened up her window and then grabbed clothing from her already open closet and stepped into her ensuite. 

The warmth of the shower eased the tension of classes and soothed the way her muscles ached, just for being human.

When she finished drying her hair with the blow dryer, she was already clad in her pyjamas. She yawned as she opened the door back to her room. She was met with Edward sitting down on the edge of her bed, one of her pillows in his lap.

‘You got here fast.’ She noted, checking to see if her door was closed.

‘Well, its not polite to keep a lady waiting.’ He said in a hushed tone, taking in her newly washed appearance. ‘I got changed into clean clothes when I went home.’ 

‘Yeah, I noticed.’ She smiled, sitting down next to him and laying her head on his shoulder.

‘Your hair’s still a little wet.’ Edward brushed his fingers through her damp hair, making sure to detangle any rare knots that he found. Y/N hummed in approval, closing her eyes at the sensation.

‘I’m sleepy already.’ She sighed, blinked her eyes open to look at the man playing with her hair.

‘Do you want me to go?’ He whispered back, lifting up a strand of her hair to his lips.

‘Do you wanna have a sleepover?’ Y/N whispered, ‘But you have to close your eyes the entire night.’

‘You want me to stay?’ Edward sounded exhilarated, it were as if someone had just offered him a large sum of money. 

‘But only if you close your eyes. You can lay down with me but no funny business okay?’ Y/N whispered, getting up to turn off the lights.

‘My lady, doth thou asketh me to lay with her before we are wed?’ His tone was hushed and playful, standing behind her with an arm wrapped around her waist.

‘Kind sir, I merely ask for your accompaniment whilst I slumber tonight.’ Y/N answered, turning to go close the window whilst Edward moved along with her.

‘What a scandalous request young miss.’

‘Is this gonna be our thing? We talk like you did back in the 1900’s?’ 

‘Are you calling me old?’

‘If the coffin fits.’ 

Edward spun her around just as she shut the window, the edges of his eyes were crinkled.

‘I can stay?’ He breathed, his tone was one of absolute disbelief .

‘Yes.’ Y/N nodded slowly, ‘The bed’s big enough for both of us.’ 

‘I promise I’ll keep my eyes closed when you’re asleep.’ Edward led her toward her bed by the hand, waiting for her to slide into her sheets before following. Y/N lifted her sheets so he could slip in as well, resting his arm under her head whilst she faced him.

‘I know you will.’ Y/N muttered, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with sleep.

‘Good night love.’ Edward breathed out, fluttering his own eyes shut. He listened to the comforting ‘thump thump thump’ of Y/N’s heart beat slow down as she drifted into slumber, smiling at the sound.

He brought himself closer by a hair, just so he could filter out the other smells of the house and focus purely on Y/N’s scent. He breathed in, feeling his throat burn slightly at her fragrance yet, he felt himself being refreshed all the same. 

If he could freeze a moment in time, it would be this in a heartbeat. 

It was the first time Edward had truly rested in over eighty years. Maybe even the first time since he had been turned, that he felt the strain and melancholy of his eternal life ebb away.

The gentle breathing of Y/N fanned over his face, bringing a much needed warmth into his lungs. Not all of the blood or gold in the world would have been able to tempt him from this moment.

The night passed, Y/N waking up to chirping birds outside her window. The clock read Five forty five am. It was early even for her. She turned over in Edward’s hold to see his eyes still shut but darting around under his eyelids.

‘Good morning Edward.’ Y/N poked his nose gently, watching his eyelashes batter open. 

‘Good morning Y/N.’ He sighed with a content smile, bringing his free hand cup to her face, using his thumb to rub over her cheeks.

‘What were you thinking about whilst I was asleep?’ She closed her eyes, relishing in the coolness of his hand.

‘You.’ He murmured, gazing at her lovingly. ‘I’m always thinking about you.’

‘Sure you are.’

‘When you first walked into class, you were wearing a hoodie, you sat down next to me and I couldn’t hear anything.’ He closed his eyes again, smiling wistfully.

‘You looked at me and suddenly everything was silent and I could only see you. The earth ceased to spin, and time itself stopped, just for that moment when our eyes met.’

‘Okay, okay I believe you.’ Y/N covered her burning face with both her hands.

‘It’ll always be you Y/N.’ He whispered, opening his eyes. ‘Even when you aren’t around, I’m thinking of you.’ 

‘What, do you have a crush on me or something?’ Y/N teased quietly, her smile bashful.

‘Something like that.’ Edward replied, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. ‘No one’s awake yet.’

‘It is quite early…’ Y/N hummed, closing her eyes while she stretched. ‘Oh right, I said I’d let Bella drive me home from school and we’d hang out at the diner for dinner.’

‘Then do I get to drive you to school?’ Edward pouted, pressing his forehead on hers. Y/N laughed and pushed his head back gently.

‘Yes you do, pretty boy. And if you behave today, maybe we can have another sleepover.’

‘You think I’m pretty?’ Edward beamed as a ray of morning sun caressed his cheek, illuminating his diamond skin.

‘As if I haven't said it before.’ Y/N rolled her eyes before turning to roll out of bed. ‘Now go home and get changed. You can drive me to school after breakfast okay?’ 

Edward had groaned out an agreement whilst sitting up in her bed. He had spun her by the hand back into his chest. 

‘I’ll see you soon?’

‘It’ll be like an hour at most.’ Y/N laughed, giving him a quick hug.

‘That’s an hour too long.’ he whined, wrapping his arms slowly around her waist.

‘Okay you big sparkly baby. Go home. I’m gonna make waffles for breakfast.’ Y/N unwound her hands from his torso and waited for Edward to do the same.

‘Just another minute.’ Edward brought his forehead down to her’s, inhaling deeply through his nose.

They both stood there in a comfortable silence before a cellphone in the house started ringing. 

Y/N and Edward’s eyes flew open, both their heads snapping to the direction of the sound.

It was Charlie’s phone, meaning he would wake up soon.

‘Okay, go, go!’ Y/N whispered, shoving him towards the window.

‘Wow, you really want to get rid of me huh?’ Edward sniffed haughtily.

‘Do you wanna get shot by a gun and then be asked why it bounced off you?’ Y/N stopped to cross her arms.

‘Good point.’

‘See you soon.’

‘Can’t wait.’ Edward gave her a quick kiss on the crown of her head before opening the window and jumping out of it. Down the corridor, Y/N could hear stumbling and a small crash.

‘Charlie? Are you okay?’ She opened her bedroom door and peered out.

‘Yeah ‘m fine. Sorry, did that wake you?’ He flung open his door, rubbing a hand over his somehow charmingly, sleepy face.

‘No I woke up early to make waffles for breakfast.’ Y/N shrugged, watching Charlie’s tensed brow relax.

‘What did we do to deserve you?’ The older man smiled, before the moment was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the home telephone.

‘Looks like it’ll be an early start today.’ Y/N laughed, watching Charlie’s brow set again in an annoyed stare.

‘I’m meant to be off today.’

‘Yikes.’

Y/N stepped back inside her room to change as Charlie trudged down the stairs to pick up the early morning call.

It was sunny today so it would also mean Edward wouldn’t be going to school. He'd be joining the rest of his family in whatever national park playing aggressive tag with bears after he dropped her off.

She slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It’d be one of the rare, warmer days so she tied the jacket around her waist. Smoothing her outfit down, she started down stairs, swinging her backpack loosely around her shoulder.

By the time Bella woke up and had gotten dressed, Y/N had already made a plateful of waffles and bacon ready for Bella. 

‘Y/N, can we get married?’ Bella laughed, sitting down at the table. Before Y/N could answer, the door bell rang.

‘That must be Edward. He has to go out of town today but he said he wanted to drive me to school.’ Y/N explained, turning off the stove to rush over to the front door.

She flung open the door, met by Edward’s smiling face. He had his sunglasses propped up, wearing just a t-shirt.

‘Can you walk around like that?’ Y/N looked around, checking to make sure no neighbours were snooping around.

‘It’s only until I drive you to school. Go eat your breakfast, I’ll wait.’ Edward stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

‘Edward.’ Charlie grunted, looking irritated. ‘We’re seeing a lot of you lately.’ 

‘Yes sir.’ Edward nodded, seemingly amused by the thoughts in Charlie's head. ‘‘Trying to impress Y/N is hard work so I’m doing my best.’ He added for good measure.

‘Huh.’ Charlie sniffed, looking disgruntled. ‘Well you two stay out of the woods. Waylon Forge was found dead this morning. We don’t know what it is yet.’

‘Oh dear.’ Y/N winced, turning to look at him, walking over and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.  ‘I’m so sorry Charlie, I know he was your friend.’ 

‘It’s alright. I’m going to go ahead early. Least I can do is find out who or what it was.’ He pushed his chair back with a scraping noise and went upstairs to change into his uniform.

Y/N turned to look at Edward but found that he had an alarmed look on his face. She grabbed two waffles and gave Bella a side hug before waving goodbye. 

Dragging Edward to the car, she asked, ‘What, what is it?’ 

‘Charlie’s mind is hard to read but the phone call said it was likely an animal attack.’ Edward said, opening the car door for Y/N whilst reaching for his own cell phone.

‘It wasn’t just an animal, was it?’ Y/N looked up at him.

‘No. It wasn’t’

-----

Edit: I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS! I think 3k words per chapter is okay, i hope its not too short for you guys :c

BUT ANWYAYS PLS RMBR TO COMMENT IF YOU WANT ME TO TAG YOU IN THE UPDATES EACH CHAPTER! UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN NEXT!

[servicpop]

CURRENTLY VIEWING : slightly obsessive deliquent oc x good student male!reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤbandaging up your (almost) bf adrien after a bad fight!

✙ warnings — mention of violence / blood / slight homophobia / slight suggestions of stalking or obsession

notes ,, first actual writing post... hope you guys like it "

Adrien and you lived two worlds. You were a model student, perfect in every way, whereas Adrien was nothing but a deliquent who skipped all his classes and failed all of his subjects (except for sports). If you two were so different, how did you end up together?

It started with an exchange of glances when you both started your first year of being a senior, somehow your presence was never known by Adrien until that one glance turned into never ending eye-contact, briefly smiling at eachother as you two met eyes from across the courtyard. His heart felt like it was about to crumble whenever you smiled at him. Your lips, your perfectly imperfect teeth shining at him. He had definitely fallen for you.

But how would his friends feel if they knew he was crushing on another guy?

As much as he wanted to hide it he couldn't. Everytime he went home and sat down in his chair, he would be welcomed with your face in the form of printed pictures stored in his top drawer. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help it, you were so attractive you reeled him in like a fish. But somehow. Somehow. You and him talked more and more, exchanged numbers, hung out a few times and even brushed hands once! Adrien for sure didn't wash his hand after that. You weren't confirmed to be dating but it sure seemed like it.

And that was the start of Adrien's fall for you.

It was around 5:00pm, the sun still shining brightly but casted a slight orange hue into the empty council room, indicating that sunset would near. You were currently in said room, sorting the books, cleaning the tables, finishing off the work your teachers assigned you because you were such a good student. Yeah it was nice for them to rely on you but to be honest, all you wanted to do was go home but alas you couldn't.

Almost as if the universe pitied your unbearable boredom, the door to the council room clicked opened. At first you thought it was a teacher, but turning around you met the deep eyes of Adrien. His soulless eyes bore into yours, his knuckles dripping with blood as he stumbled into the room, almost collapsing on the couch.

"Got into another fight," He grumbled, his deep sultry voice reverberated in the room. Shit, his voice was hot. Snapping out of your thoughts, you quickly rushed over to him, viewing his bloody and bruised knuckles. It looked bad. Probably from beating the shit out of someone but you wouldn't question it. After some rummaging around you finally found the first aid kit, clicking the white box open before kneeling down infront of Adrien, a small smirk plastered his face.

"You don't have to you know? I just wanted—" Adrien's voice was cut out by a sharp hiss as you applied the alcohol to his wounds.

"Let me be a good friend to you."

Ooh... friend? That hit Adrien straight to the gut

"I just wanted company."

"Then your not allowed to hold my hand with those bloody knuckles."

"..."

"please bandage my fingers."

A wholehearted chuckle left your throat as you fished out the puppy patterned bandages around his knuckles, making sure you kissed each and every knuckles after. Just to make sure that there was no lingering pain of course, not because you two were had something for eachother or anything. You looked up at Adrien to see a small smile on his face, he was always so serious looking and whenever he smiled it was usually the shit eating grin type of smile. You had only really grown closer with him for a few weeks now so... why were you already hooked on him?

"You lost in thought?" He asked, snapping you out of your little trance. You shook your head, and he brought your chin up to meet his in a light kiss, his calloused fingertips gripping your chin lightly while his other hand found solace in your own. It was something straight out of a romance movie, his warm fingers against yours, his lips against your soft ones in such a gentle kiss. You never knew deliquents could be this gentle. Pulling away you wiped your lips and tugged your hands from Adrien's. You weren't dating him. You can't do this. You turned your head a pout adorned your lips, "Don't just casually kiss me," you huffed.

"But I know you liked it." Adrien hummed.

extra notes ,, I didn't have a full goal for what relationship reader and Adrien would have but i really liked the enemies to lovers sort of denial trope. I also experimented with the colour coding of the text, I find it easier to identify when they're speaking but let me know your preferences! I'm a bit nervous posting this since its my first time ever posting on tumblr but yeah! Also no smut yet, still getting warmed up you know

[dramagodesss]

seventeen : old love

playin' the players

a/n : slowly getting my inspiration back— to my winscam girlies, this is for you. and for my winsbank girlies... stay tuned. next chapters boutta be... well i aint gon say it. you'll see when i post it 😛

The sun's still high in the sky, casting everything in a buttery gold glow. The beach is quiet, just the whisper of waves and the crunch of sand under bare feet. The crew’s a few yards off, cameras ready, but out of frame it feels like it’s just you two. or them.

Josie’s already laughing — something about Eddie’s attempt at skipping rocks turning into a full-on splash.

“you’re so bad at that,” she grins, shielding her eyes from the sun as she watches him fumble with another stone.

“you wound me,” eddie says, mock-offended. “i was trying to impress you.”

“well, try twirling me around or something,” she teases. “you’re better at that.”

so he does.

he catches her hand and spins her gently, her laugh catching the morning air like music. she nearly stumbles into him, and he steadies her with a hand at her waist.

they’re close now. breathing the same soft, salty air. she looks up at him, cheeks warm, and the sunlight catches in her hair like fire.

“you’re kinda dangerous when you’re like this,” josie murmurs.

“like what?”

“like… happy.”

eddie blinks. “you make me happy.”

her smile falters for just a second — something unspoken passes between them — but then he leans down and kisses her. slow. sure. like he’s sealing the moment in time.

it tastes like sunshine and sea spray and something that hasn’t fallen apart yet.

and the cameras keep rolling.

not that you two notice.

the day passes quickly.

on the picnic scene, eddie and josie sit tangled in blankets and pillows, sharing strawberries from a plastic container. they talk about nothing — books, dumb dreams, their favorite songs — but it's the way they look at each other that says everything. josie confesses she's scared of how much she feels for him, and eddie, half-laughing but sincere, tells her: “good. that means it’s real.”

later that day, they both find each other being filmed in the early afternoon, light pouring through the white curtains, josie wakes up first. she watches eddie sleeping beside her, peaceful and soft. there’s a brief, quiet moment where she touches his hair, smiles, then tucks herself closer. he stirs, murmurs something sleepily, and pulls her in without opening his eyes. it’s tender. intimate. real.

like that day when you climbed up to rafe's window.

the breakup is shot last, just before sunset — the same apartment, but now it feels colder, dimmer. the bed is unmade behind them. josie stands with her arms crossed while eddie, pacing, tries to explain himself. there's no yelling. no big fight. just raw emotion. she says she can’t trust him anymore. he says he wishes she could. when she walks out, eddie doesn’t stop her. the door clicks shut, and the camera lingers on his face — wrecked, silent, still.

and after all that long day of filming, rafe keeps his word and takes you out to dinner.

when you two get out of the restaurant, he asks you if you wanna come over to the aparment, where you've filmed all those scenes.

and, ofcourse, you can't say no.

so you end up curled on the apartment’s worn couch, shoeless, jackets tossed somewhere by the door. you’re both full, warm from food and the low hum of some old movie you’re not even watching.

when you shift to grab your phone from the coffee table, he stops you gently—fingers brushing your wrist.

you turn, brows raised. “what?”

he looks nervous. like something in his chest is rattling loose and he doesn’t know how to hold it in.

“stay,” he says quietly. “tonight.”

your breath catches.

he sees it, quickly adds, “i don’t wanna do anything. i just…” he trails off, then exhales, softer, more certain: “i wanna fall asleep with you by my side.”

you search his face. it’s open. tired. a little scared.

but there’s no expectation in his voice—just hope.

you nod slowly. “okay.”

his shoulders drop with relief, the tiniest smile tugging at his mouth.

and then—before you can think twice—he leans in and kisses you. slow and unhurried. not for the camera, not for the characters.

it's not josie and eddie.

it's just rafe and you.

his hand finds your cheek. yours tangle in his hoodie. the kiss deepens just a bit—warm and familiar.

when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours.

“you sure?” he murmurs, eyes closed.

you nod again. “yeah. i’m sure.”

and his biceps wrap around your body, pulling you close to his warm frame as he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

was this still all about that stupid bet?

taglist : @beewritess @davinashifts333 @lanasangelsz @littlefreak-liz @drewstarkeyswife0 @lalaloopsieparty @ethanthequeefqueen @wtfisastiles @angelicameron @moth-feeet @drewstarkeyswife-7 @hiphopstar @cokewithcameron @cameronsbabydoll @chillgal135 @ayy1234567 @pogueprincesa @isinpfortvdmen @iheartrosalia @luvrclub @yesshewrites1 @sideboobrry11 @espressh0e @mysticbby2009 @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @hwaaholic @aves05 @thecolorpearl05 @dreamybabbyy @wintercrows @lesbiana2 @chillgal135 @verycherryblossomhideout @daddyrafeslittleslut @pillowprincess4him @xoxobellamy @dylsdaily @at-todds-heart @nonbeliever1@rafes-honey @lilithblackkk @isktfguhn @rafecamssfavgirl @mirellef2001 @jennieonline

[rootedinrevisions]

Off the Red Carpet

SUMMARY: You accompany Glen to a red carpet event, and you get to watch him be in his element- the chaos of flashing cameras and the glitz of the red carpet- firsthand. As Glen navigates the spotlight, you remain behind the scenes, quietly proud of the star he's become, all while cherishing the connection between you that exists when the cameras aren't on.

A/N: This idea was originally from @hunterthecharmer thank you for the idea and for giving me the okay to try my hand at writing this! Hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: None. This one is pretty fluffy.

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

The hotel suite hummed with quiet activity, a mix of soft music playing, and the occasional murmur of conversation from the main room.

The golden hues of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm light across the space. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the gown over your hips. The fabric felt luxurious under your fingers, flowing softly into a gentle train. The way it hugged your figure made you feel like you belonged on the arm of someone like Glen, even if the thought of stepping into the spotlight still set your nerves on edge.

You took a deep breath, adjusting one of the delicate straps before reaching behind you to zip up the dress. Your fingers fumbled, unable to grasp the tiny pull. Frustration mixed with your growing nervousness, and you let out a soft sigh, glancing toward the closed door.

As if on cue, there was a knock.

“Babe? You almost ready?” Glen’s voice carried through the door, warm and familiar, a grounding force amidst your swirling thoughts.

“Almost,” you called back, your voice a little breathless. “But…I might need some help.”

The door creaked open, and Glen stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding you. The room seemed to still for a moment as his gaze swept over you, his usual easy smile softening into something more profound.

“Wow,” he said quietly, the word barely more than a breath.

You felt your cheeks warm under his stare. “Think you can help me with this?” you asked, turning slightly to show him the unzipped back of your dress.

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried, and gently brushed your hair to one side. “Of course,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he took hold of the zipper.

The soft tug of the fabric and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. When he finished, his hands lingered for a moment, resting gently at your waist before he turned you to face him. His eyes roamed over you, and the quiet awe in his expression made your heart skip a beat.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step back, as if needing to take all of you in, and shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “I think,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, he reached up, his thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek. “Seriously,” he added, his tone soft but earnest. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

The emotion in his words made your chest tighten, and when he leaned in to kiss you, it wasn’t just an affectionate peck. It was slow and deliberate, his lips lingering on yours like he wanted to make sure you felt every ounce of what he couldn’t put into words.

“Glen,” his manager called from the other side. “We need to get going.”

Glen pulled back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Guess that’s our cue.” He smiled down at you, taking your hand in his. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, though your voice carried a hint of uncertainty.

The soft click of the hotel room door echoed as you and Glen stepped into the hallway. The plush carpet muffled the sound of your heels, but walking in them while managing the delicate train of your gown was proving to be a challenge. You tried to discreetly gather the fabric in one hand, balancing it while taking careful steps, but the effort was less than graceful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Glen glance down, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. Without a word, he slowed his pace, gently reaching for the trailing fabric of your gown.

“Here,” he said softly, gathering the train in one hand with practiced ease. “Let me take care of that.”

You blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Glen, you don’t have to—”

He cut you off with a small shake of his head, his lips curving into a warm smile. “I know I don’t have to,” he said, his tone light yet sincere. “But I want to. Can’t have you tripping before we even make it to the car.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the sound easing some of the lingering nerves in your chest. As you resumed walking, you felt the gentle pressure of his other hand resting lightly at the small of your back, guiding you with an ease that felt so natural, so him.

When you reached the elevator, Glen shifted slightly, keeping hold of your gown as he pressed the call button with his free hand. The doors slid open with a quiet chime, and he gestured for you to step inside first, his hand never leaving its spot at your waist as you did.

Inside the elevator, you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. The golden lighting highlighted the soft yet focused expression on his face. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said simply. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, and you found yourself leaning into his touch ever so slightly as the elevator began its descent.

Glen caught the movement, his thumb brushing lightly against your back in response. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and just for you.

You nodded, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. “Yeah,” you replied softly. “I just…I feel lucky.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to your temple. “Funny,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of playful charm. “Because I was just thinking the same thing.”

The elevator chimed again, signaling your arrival at the lobby. Glen stepped aside to let you exit first, but not before giving your waist one last gentle squeeze.

The lobby was alive with a low hum of activity, hotel staff bustling about and the faint chatter of guests mingling in the background. As you and Glen approached the doors, the distant sound of cameras clicking and voices calling out his name grew louder. Paparazzi were stationed just beyond the entrance, their flashes already bouncing off the glass.

Glen’s security team, always a step ahead, intercepted you both before you reached the main doors. One of them leaned in to speak quietly. “The parking garage is clear. We’ll take you through there to avoid the crowd.”

Glen nodded, his hand still resting lightly at the small of your back as the team led you toward a side corridor. The bright, polished floors of the lobby gave way to the dimmer, utilitarian lighting of the garage. The quiet hum of fluorescent lights above and the occasional echo of footsteps replaced the buzz of the crowd outside.

As you stepped into the cool expanse of the garage, your heels clicked softly against the concrete. You walked side by side with Glen, his presence steady and reassuring, until you came upon a patch of water glistening under the overhead lights. It stretched across the pathway, and your gaze dropped to the delicate hem of your gown, worry flickering across your face.

Before you could even voice your concern or attempt to maneuver around it, Glen reacted instinctively. “Hold on,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Without hesitation, he bent slightly and swept you up into his arms as though you weighed nothing. A surprised laugh escaped your lips, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he carried you effortlessly around the puddle.

“Glen!” you exclaimed, though your tone was more amused than admonishing. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

He glanced down at you, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let your dress get ruined before you even make it to the event?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Still, I could’ve managed.”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk as he set you gently back on your feet, his hands lingering at your waist to steady you. “But why make you do it when I’m right here?”

You shook your head, still smiling, as you adjusted your gown. Just then, his security team opened the back door of a black SUV with tinted windows. 

“Milady,” Glen said with a playful smile, gesturing for you to step in.

“Thank you,” you replied, matching his tone as you carefully slid into the plush leather seat, mindful of your dress.

Glen followed suit, settling in beside you and closing the door behind him. The faint hum of the engine provided a soothing background noise as the driver pulled out of the garage and onto the city streets.

For a moment, you were quiet, staring out the window at the lights of the bustling city. Glen shifted beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

You glanced at him, offering a small nod. “Just…nervous, I guess. It’s a big night for you, and I don’t want to—”

“Be ridiculous,” Glen interrupted gently, flashing his trademark grin. “You’re not going to ruin anything. Trust me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“There she is,” he said, nudging you playfully. “See? You’re going to be fine. You’re not even walking the red carpet, anyway. You get to stay behind the cameras and sip champagne while I do all the work.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call posing for photos and answering questions work,” you teased, arching a brow.

“Oh, it’s brutal,” he said, feigning seriousness. “All those flashing lights, having to keep this face from looking too shiny…”

You shook your head, smiling, but the fluttering in your stomach didn’t entirely subside. Glen seemed to notice.

His hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours with ease. His thumb began to graze over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer now, his teasing dropped. “You don’t have to be nervous. I’m really happy you’re here with me tonight. It means a lot.”

You looked at him, his expression earnest and filled with something deeper than you could put into words.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I’m happy to be here with you, too. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Glen’s lips quirked into a small smile, his thumb continuing its comforting motion. “Well, don’t make me cry before we even get there.”

As the car slowed to a stop outside the venue, the energy in the air shifted, electrified by the flash of cameras and the distant sound of fans calling out names. You could feel the thrum of excitement radiating through the air, reverberating in your chest.

Glen adjusted his bow tie, his jawline sharp under the streetlights. He turned to you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “Ready for the madness?”

You nodded, even though your nerves had returned. The line of cars ahead crawled forward, one by one releasing a parade of celebrities who were met with the cheers of the crowd and the blinding strobe of camera flashes.

When it was finally your turn, Glen stepped out first, his polished shoes meeting the pavement. The crowd erupted, calling his name as the flashes intensified. He turned to wave, flashing that Hollywood smile that had charmed audiences all over the world.

Then, as if the chaos around him didn’t exist, Glen turned back to you. He leaned down, extending a hand through the open door. “C’mon,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise.

You took his hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you as you stepped out. For a brief moment, the two of you stood together, a quiet connection amidst the frenzy. Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, his thumb brushing your skin in a silent promise before he stepped toward the red carpet.

“See you inside,” he said, and then he was gone, the lights and cameras swallowing him whole.

His manager appeared at your side, her touch gentle as she guided you away from the chaos and toward the media’s edge. Here, you were safely tucked behind the lines of reporters, photographers, and onlookers, shielded from the prying lenses but still close enough to see everything.

From your vantage point, you watched Glen stride onto the red carpet like he owned it. His confidence radiated with every step, and the cameras adored him. He paused in front of the wall of flashing bulbs, effortlessly shifting his stance to give them what they wanted—his signature smile. He turned slightly to the left, then to the right, his jawline sharp under the bright lights. The tailored suit he wore fit him perfectly, exuding the kind of polished charm that only he could pull off.

He looked every bit the Hollywood Leading Man, and for a moment, you found yourself caught between awe and adoration. Glen was always himself with you—gentle, playful, sincere—but here, he embodied the star the world had come to know. And yet, there was a thrill in knowing that beneath the flawless exterior was the man you knew better than anyone.

Your attention lingered as he moved seamlessly into an interview. He leaned in slightly, his posture relaxed but engaged, as the interviewer asked their question. You couldn’t hear the words over the buzz of the crowd, but you could tell by the way his brow lifted and a small smile tugged at his lips that it was something lighthearted. And then it came—the laugh. His shoulders shook just slightly, and his expression softened in a way that made your heart swell.

As he finished his response, Glen straightened and glanced around, his eyes scanning the crowd. When they landed on you, a grin spread across his face. He gave you a quick wink, just enough to send your stomach fluttering before he turned back to shake the interviewer’s hand and move on.

Your smile grew as you watched him continue down the carpet, stopping now and then to interact with fans pressed against the barriers. He greeted each one with genuine warmth, signing photos and posters, crouching down for selfies, and even exchanging a few words with those lucky enough to catch his attention.

One young fan, no more than ten years old, handed Glen a scrapbook of drawings they’d made of him. He thumbed through the pages, his expression shifting to one of quiet amazement. You could see his lips move as he said something to the child, who nodded enthusiastically while clutching a pen Glen had just handed back.

“Thank you so much,” you heard him say clearly to another fan as they gushed about his latest role.

This was a side of him that always took your breath away—the way he gave so much of himself to those who supported him. He didn’t just exist in their world; he connected with it, leaving pieces of himself behind for everyone to cherish.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, his gaze found yours once more. This time, it lingered, a soft yet electric connection that sent a wave of warmth through you. His lips curved into a smile, not the polished one for the cameras or the fans, but one meant just for you.

You raised a hand in a small wave, your heart beating a little faster as he gave you a subtle nod before turning back to the next group of fans.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” his manager said, leaning toward you with a knowing smile.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on Glen as he moved gracefully through the crowd. “It’s surreal. But he… he makes it look easy.”

“That’s Glen for you,” she said with a chuckle. “Always knows how to work a room—or a red carpet.”

You laughed softly, but your attention never strayed far from him. He was magnetic, every movement deliberate yet natural, as if he’d been born for this.

This was his moment. After the whirlwind year he’d had—the long days on set, the relentless press tours, and the skyrocketing success—he deserved every bit of the recognition coming his way.

And while you were more than content to stay in the background, watching from the edges of his world, you couldn’t deny the pride and love that surged through you as you saw him shine.

The buzz of the red carpet faded the moment you stepped into the building. The quieter hum of conversation and the elegant glow of the interior lights replaced the chaos outside, offering a reprieve from the cameras and shouting fans.

Glen’s manager stayed close by, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she led you through the foyer. “He should be coming in right behind us,” she said, glancing back at you with a reassuring smile.

You nodded, your fingers fiddling with the delicate strap of your clutch as your nerves began to settle. But before you could think too much about the evening ahead, you felt it—a warm hand sliding around your waist.

“Miss me already?” he teased, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your lips curved into a smile as you looked up at him. “Always.”

There was a brief pause, and then Glen offered you his arm, his tone light. “Shall we?”

You accepted without hesitation, slipping your arm through his as he led you further into the building. The buzz of the outside world felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the quiet elegance of the venue's interior. The soft lighting and low hum of conversation seemed to make everything feel more intimate, even amidst the crowd.

“So, how did I do?” Glen asked with a teasing edge, clearly eager for your opinion.

“You were perfect,” you said honestly, giving his arm a small squeeze. “I’ve never seen you look more confident. Like you belonged there.”

He chuckled, his voice warm as he turned to face you. “Well, it’s a bit easier when I’ve got someone like you cheering me on.”

You couldn’t help the flush that crept up your neck, but you gave him a smile in return, silently grateful for how grounded he made you feel in the midst of the chaos.

“Seriously, though,” he added as you made your way through the foyer. “I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to do this without you by my side.”

As the two of you continued through the space, the evening ahead felt less intimidating, more like an opportunity to savor the quieter moments together. While the world outside might never fully understand the dynamic between you, it was moments like this—away from the cameras, just the two of you—that made it all worth it.

The night ahead would be full of attention and flash, but the most important thing was that, despite the world around you, you were right where you needed to be—by his side, without needing to make a spectacle of it.

[wingedhallows]

high silly kisses with martinez!fem!r x nat

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

🖇₊˚ෆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 pre crash! nat scatorccio x martinez fem!reader / 1k words 🖇₊˚ෆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 kissing, weed usuage 🖇₊˚ෆ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hey hey!! i've had a blast with this! i hope u like it ♡︎

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

“Gimme the lighter,” Nat demands, a lazy grin tugging at her lips, moonlight catching in the hollows of her cheekbones.

Her bleached hair falls in messy waves, framing her face like some kind of crooked halo. She nudges your knee again, a little firmer this time, pulling you out of your daze.

“The lighter, airhead.” Her voice is amused, teasing, warm.

You blink, like you’re waking up, and fumble to hand her the battered Zippo. She flicks it open with practiced ease, the small flame flaring to life. For a brief moment, the soft glow dances across her face like a dying sunset, casting golden edges on her sharp features.

God, she’s beautiful.

You try not to stare too long as she lights the blunt, but it’s hard not to when she looks like that — all edge and smoke and moonlight.

She holds it out to you without a word, and you take it, fingers brushing hers. The smoke curls from her lips like a phantom, pale and weightless, catching in the cool night air.

“You’re quiet,” she says, eyebrow cocked as she watches you. “Quieter than normal.”

You don’t answer right away. Just lift the blunt to your lips, take a slow hit, and hold it in. Let the smoke—and the question—linger for a while.

“Dad’s being overbearing again,” you finally say, the words heavy even in the hush of the night. You pause, searching for the right way to say it. “Travis and him were going at it again this morning. Yelling, slamming doors… I left before it got worse.”

You glance at her, expecting maybe a sigh or a sympathetic look, but Nat just takes the blunt back with that same calm detachment.

You catch the haze in her eyes — not just from the weed. There’s something else there, something soft and unspoken.

“They’re not here now.” Her voice is low, edged with smoke and something almost tender.

That’s the thing about Nat. She never pities you. She doesn’t try to wrap your pain in sugar or offer empty promises. She knows better. Life’s messy. People are mean. Fathers are complicated.

She just sits with you in it. Offers you a blunt, a moment of quiet, a night away from the noise. A distraction, maybe.

But it feels like peace.

Her gaze flickers back to you, slow and a little glazed, but you don’t mind. You probably look just the same — eyes half-lidded, limbs loose, thoughts drifting somewhere between her and the smoke.

“I could take your mind off things,” she offers, voice low and velvet-smooth as she takes another hit.

You watch the smoke pour from her lips in a slow, ghostly curl, and for a heartbeat your pulse skips. That voice of hers never promises anything sane — or remotely appropriate.

You tilt your head, raising a brow in lazy amusement. “How?” you manage, barely above a whisper.

Nat doesn’t answer with words right away. She hands you the blunt again and slides a little closer, her thigh brushing against yours. The warmth of her settles into your skin, and then her hand — god, her hand — lands gently on your knee, fingers curling like they’ve always belonged there.

Your breath catches.

“Lemme show you,” she murmurs, her voice thick, edged with smoke and something deeper.

Her tongue slips out to wet her lips and you watch, helpless. You swallow, hard, the air suddenly feeling too warm. You don’t move — won’t dare to — afraid that if you do, the spell might break and she’ll vanish like the smoke between you.

She leans in slowly, deliberately. The blunt now sits forgotten, propped beside the zippo. All that matters is the way her breath ghosts across your face, warm and intoxicating.

“Nat…” you whisper, hoarse and unsure if it’s admiration or desire that’s got your voice shaking. Probably both.

Her hand comes up, cradling your cheek, and you swear you let out the softest sound — a helpless, aching little thing — but you’re too focused on her to care. You’re looking at her like she’s gravity and you’re losing the will to fight it.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, voice small. Hopeful. Terrified.

Nat huffs out a quiet laugh, and her breath dances across your lips, scorching and sweet. “So fucking sure,” she whispers — and then she’s kissing you.

It’s uncoordinated, a little messy — her tongue finds your mouth too fast, too hungry — but you’re not complaining. Not even close.

She tastes like summer nights and trouble. Like the kind of distraction you don’t just want — but need.

And for the first time all day, your mind goes completely, blissfully quiet.

You break apart with a breathless giggle, foreheads resting gently together, your noses almost brushing. You steal another quick peck — just to hear that sweet little laugh spill from her lips. It had been a messy kiss, unpolished and far from perfect, but it was perfectly you and Nat.

“You still thinking about your dad?” she murmurs, her words feather-soft against your mouth. One hand comes up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your chest ache in the best way.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. I think you rewired my brain.”

Nat grins, her eyes crinkling as she plants another kiss to your lips — quick, playful. “That’s not the weed talking?” she teases.

You nudge her with your elbow, mock-offended, but there’s no real bite to it — just warmth. Pure, golden fondness.

“God, I love getting high with you,” you mumble as you nuzzle her, your nose brushing hers.

Nat smiles wide, easy and bright. “Me too.”

[https-lovvers]

honey honey

lando norris x driver!reader

summary: you, lily, alex and lando all go on a yacht trip through italy and you cannot get this one song out of your head.. so you and lily annoy your boyfriends!!

you and lily stand in the kitchen cutting up a watermelon as your boyfriends are fooling around on the deck of the yacht. the hot sun shining down on the coastal italian waters and you can see lando already tanning.

you smile to yourself when he spots you and waves joyfully.

"well he's a love machine isn't he?" lily nudges you and you giggle.

"it makes me dizzy sometimes you know??" and as soon as the words come out of your mouth you realise! those are lyrics in the abba song honey honey!!!

when you explain it to lily she smiles and shakes her head. "you and that mamma mia movie"

you both giggle and you take a bite of the watermelon.

"should we make a video to the song??"

you didn't need to hear it twice.

"honey honey how he thrills me" you wink into the camera, walking in front of lando

"honey honey nearly kills me" lily faints into alex's arms as he looks at lando with confusion and lando just shrugs.

"i heard about him before.." lily types alex's name into a search browser. "i wanted to know some moreee" she pretends to think and looks at alex.

"and now i know what they mean.. he's a love machineee" you smile into the camera and lando runs up behind you and picks you up, squeezing you tight.

"oh he makes me dizzy!!" you and lily say into the camera at the same time.

you and lily giggle and film a few more lyrics.

"the way that you kiss me goodnightttt" lily giggles as alex kisses all over her face

"the way that you hold me tightttt" you smile as lando hugs you from behind

you and lily giggle into the camera at the same time trying to not laugh, "i feel like i wanna sing when you do your.. thing!!"

as the lyrics fade into just the melody, you guys decide to document your day to the music. clips showing you and lily twirling in your pretty dresses on the front of the yacht, running down the streets of the beautiful town that you'd parked the yacht at, smiling with your boyfriends over lunch.

you smiled, nothing could beat your favourite songs and your favourite people.

as the music fades back in, it's nearly sunset so you and lily make the most of the daylight lipsyncing to the song.

"honey honey touch me baby" you wink at the camera and make a beckoning action and lily laughs from behind the camera.

you and lily force lando and alex to nod along to the "uh huhs" in the song and you and lily pop up for the "honey honey"

"honey honey hold me baby" lily giggles and wraps her arms around herself.

you decide to do the next scene together, "you look like a movie star" and you guys skip around your boyfriends in 2x speed and shrug to the camera as you say, "but i like just who you are."

"and honey to say the least.. you're a doggone beast" you brace yourself for impact as the plan was for lando to throw you over his shoulder.

however instead he pushes you off the yacht and you land in the cool, clear water fully dressed.

you smile and shake your head when you see lando, lily and alex all laughing at you from above you.

as the melody fades back in, you just film all of you jumping and playing in the water, spinning around on the deck and lando and alex piggybacking you and lily.

"honey honey how you thrill me uh huh" lily looks directly at alex with a smile. nodding as she says uh huh.

"honey honey" the camera cuts to you and lily peeking your heads out from a doorframe

"honey honey nearly kill me" you collapse into landos arms, a grin cracking on his face as he feels your body weight on him.

"honey honey" the same clip of you and lily in the doorframe

"i heard about you before... i wanted to know some moree..." lily grins wildly as her and and alex hold hands and swing them back and forth.

you smile at the cute couple as you and your boyfriend sit and watch the sunset "and now i'm about to see.. what you mean to me"

you glance up at your boyfriend and look at him lovingly as the song ends.

lily would post your silly little music video on her socials later, but for now you all enjoyed each other's company laughing together as the sunset.

guys lmk if you want to see social media reactions to the videos or anything like that <3 hopefully this whole thing kind of makes sense!

[zablife]

Being Benny's Girl Would Include

Benny Cross Masterlist

A/N: After creating a similar list for Johnny, I now have one for Benny. Ty to a lovely anon for requesting it!

Warnings: slightly nsfw, drinking, mention of injury, mention of a weapon

♡ There are many sleepless nights, worrying about him out on the open road. And you have good cause bc he's constantly returning to you bruised and bloodied.

♡ You learn how to dress wounds, even sew a few stitches, bc he's too stubborn to go to a hospital, preferring your gentle touch instead. "You're better than any damn doctor, sweetheart."

♡ If you pout when he returns, he'll try to make you forget how upset you've been with a bit of teasing that cleverly puts something else in the forefront of your mind. "Did you pray for me every night like a good girl? On your hands and knees? Let me see."

♡ When you're feeling clingy, he'll take you down to the bar with him, not giving a shit what the guys think when you leave lipstick on him or pluck the cigarette from his lips for a drag instead of lighting your own. In fact, he encourages your behavior, flipping his chair around in hopes your small hand will nestle into the back pocket of his Levi's.

♡ Benny's not much of a talker, but he opens up to you bc you're the first person who's ever really cared enough to ask the right questions. That makes him want to tell you things he's never said out loud. He confides the ring on his pinkie came from his granddaddy, the only real father figure he ever knew.

♡ He gifts the important possession to you as a sign of his devotion and his heart skips a beat when he thinks about how you wear it on a chain bc it would slip off your delicate finger too easily otherwise.

♡ You're his sweet girl, an angel so precious he has restless nights worrying about you amongst all the burly men in the rough bars and pool halls he frequents. His concerns over keeping you safe giving him full blown insomnia after Kathy is attacked at a house party.

♡ You'll prob find yourself in an empty field the next morning, caged in by Benny's muscular arms, holding his .38 in your trembling hands. Nodding toward the line of beer bottles in the distance as he softly instructs, "squeeze the trigger real slow as you exhale. You can do it, darlin'."

♡ You didn't see the need considering the protective way he drapes his arm over you, eyes cautiously scanning the room with a feral look in his eye. Everyone knows what it means. Touch her and you're a dead man.

♡ He's been known to take things too far, esp when he's drinking. Once a guy collided with you at the bar, spilling beer down your white dress and turning it sheer. The unlucky son of a bitch found himself on the street seconds later facing the broken end of the bottle inches from his throat.

♡ The novelty of having your honor defended loses its appeal with every trip to county. Benny senses it in your anguished sigh and furrowed brow when you come to bail him out, hanging his head shamefully the moment he catches sight of you.

♡ Since there's nothing he hates more than disappointing you, he tries to keep his impulses in check and focus on your needs. "You know I'd do anything for you, angel."

♡ Nothing made your heart race with excitement quite like the day he stole you away for a winding ride that ended under a magnificent orange sunset. When he removed his shirt to make love to you in the tall grass, you glimpsed your name freshly inked over his heart.

[meazalykov]

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood. 

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot. 

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. 

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills. 

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail. 

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh. 

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk, 

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m. 

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest. 

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily. 

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual. 

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual. 

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity, 

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab. 

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking. 

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty. 

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink. 

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice. 

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave. 

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets. 

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors. 

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london. 

masterlist

[littlelamy]

......we're gonna do some winter things

masterlist - 05

A week before Christmas, and not a single snowflake in sight. Instead, you were stuck in the middle of a tropical paradise, where the closest thing to winter was the air conditioning in the beach house. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to call it magical or downright ridiculous.

The sun blazed overhead, casting a golden glow on the white sand and the crystal-clear waves that lapped lazily at the shore. The only nod to the season was the pathetic little palm tree in the corner of the house, strung up with cheap Christmas lights and tinsel that looked like it came from a dollar store. It stood there awkwardly, like it was just as confused about the setting as you were.

“Hey, princess,” Rafe called from the porch, strutting by like he owned the damn beach. He was in nothing but his swim trunks, sunglasses perched low on his nose, and his cocky grin practically shining brighter than the sun.

You sipped your fruity drink, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re having way too much fun with this whole ‘Christmas on the beach’ thing.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” He shrugged, running a hand through his messy, sun-bleached hair. “Beats freezing my ass off in the snow, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.” You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “There’s something about snow that feels... right this time of year.”

Rafe snorted, dropping onto the chair next to you with zero regard for personal space. His knee brushed yours, his warmth spreading across your skin. “Snow’s overrated. You know what’s not overrated? This.” He gestured dramatically to the pristine beach and the endless ocean.

“Let me guess.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re about to tell me you’re the best part of this whole trip.”

His grin widened. “You said it, not me.”

“Jesus, you’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“And yet,” he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping, “you’re still here.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but he stood up before you could get a word out, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. “Come on. We’re making Christmas memories, whether you like it or not.”

“Rafe—what the hell are you doing?” you protested, but he ignored you, dragging you toward a small shack near the edge of the beach.

“Trust me, babe,” he said, throwing a smug glance over his shoulder.

That was always a dangerous sentence coming from him.

Inside the shack, he’d set up what could only be described as the most chaotic, half-assed attempt at recreating an ice-skating rink. Christmas lights were strung haphazardly around the walls, and in the middle of the cleared-out space, he’d placed two skateboards with poles attached to mimic skates.

You stared, dumbfounded. “Rafe. What the actual fuck is this?”

“It’s a rink,” he said like it was obvious.

“It’s sand.”

He shrugged, clearly unbothered by your disbelief. “You wanted winter vibes. This is what you get.”

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” you said, crossing your arms.

“And yet,” he repeated with a grin, “you’re still here.”

Despite your best efforts to stay annoyed, you found yourself laughing as he grabbed your hand again, pulling you onto his makeshift “rink.” It was ridiculous, but Rafe didn’t care, and somehow, that made it funnier.

“All right, all right,” you said between fits of laughter, stumbling as you tried to push off with your feet. “You win. This is... something.”

“Damn right it is,” he said smugly, catching you when you nearly fell into him. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you steady, and for a moment, you felt the world slow down.

The sunset cast a warm glow over the beach, turning the sky into a mix of fiery oranges and soft purples. Rafe’s grin softened as he looked at you, his fingers brushing against your side. “See? I told you I’d make it feel like Christmas.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat at the way he looked at you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked any real bite.

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning closer, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

This time, he didn’t give you a chance to fire back. His hand slid to your cheek, tilting your face toward his, and before you could even process what was happening, his lips brushed against yours.

It was soft at first—just the slightest hint of pressure, like he was testing the waters. But then, when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you seemed to disappear. It didn’t matter that you were standing in the middle of a makeshift “rink” on the beach or that it was the most un-Christmas-like setting imaginable. All that mattered was the way he kissed you—confident, warm, and just a little bit smug, like he’d known all along this was where the night was headed.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart racing as you looked up at him. His grin was back, softer this time, but no less cocky.

“See? I told you I’d make it feel like Christmas,” he said again, his voice low.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your forehead, “you’re still here.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[myjayisarockstar]

first date

boyfriend!hyung line x gn!reader

synapsis: quick scenarios on where the hyung line would take you on your first date together

genre: fluff; no warnings needed

wc: 693

a/n: this was written in like 20 minutes so i apologize if it is literally horrible

Heeseung

He would 100% take you to an arcade for your first date. With his love for games he thought what better of a place for a first date right. He will get competitive when it comes to certain games but most of the time I can see him trying to let you win unless you’re just god awful at it. If it was a one player game and you didn’t know how to play it, Heeseung would take the chance to show off a little by showing you how to play. This man is very playful and will definitely tease you if you’re really bad at a game. BUT he will find it so endearing when you start pouting at his words and will immediately apologize and tell you he was joking. The night would end with the two of you getting ice cream and talking about all the stupid arcade prizes each of you won. Heeseung WILL be getting you a plushie no matter what, even if it takes him an extra 1000 tickets he is determined to make sure you walk out of that date with something he won for you.

Jay

I can’t think of Jay doing anything other than a nice dinner date out for a first date. He’s a very classic type of guy and will take you out somewhere more upscale since he has the means to do so (he just wants to spoil you ). He also just wanted an excuse to see you dressed up in something pretty. Will be the perfect gentleman from the time he picks you up to the time he drops you back off at home: opening the car/restaurant door for you, pulling back your chair and pushing you into the table, if you’re walking on the sidewalk he will be walking on the street side, and so so much more because this man is so smitten by you. If you even think about paying for this meal he will quickly stop you and tell you that you never have to pay for a date as long as you’re with him (he loves to spoil his favorite person).

Jake

Picnic date. Jake is the type to love the outdoors and would LOVE to sit out in nature with you. He will also insist on making all the food himself so it can be more special (even though his cooking expertise is limited). On the day of your date he will show up with everything packed in a cute picnic basket and a picnic blanket in hand. He made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apple slices, and some crackers along with a couple thermoses of ramen because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook. Jake will take you to the prettiest park he knows to make sure the scenery is perfect for this date. You two will have such a lovely time enjoying each other's presence and talking about literally anything until the sun goes down. You two will watch the sunset together and it will make for the perfect romantic ending to this date.

Sunghoon

It would be a crime if I made Sunghoon’s literally anything except for ice skating. He genuinely would not know anywhere else to take you so his first instinct was to take you back to his own element. Sunghoon was fully prepared to be taking it slow with you while skating because not everyone has the same experience as him, so he will be holding your hands guiding you through the rink until you start to get the hang of skating (also sees it as an opportunity to be close to you). Fair warning he will laugh at you if you fall and eat shit, but will eventually help you up off the ice and back to your feet. And if you ask if you can simply sit and watch him skate how he used to, his heart would literally skip a beat. He would pretend to protest for a minute but would eventually oblige and show you some of his old tricks he used to do on the ice.

[sweetheartsnips]

Random DBZ characters x GN reader first date headcanons

Just dropping some HCs off for some underappreciated DBZ/DBS characters.

This is just some fluff, really. SFW but I am an 18+ blog so minors DNI as per usual. Gender neutral reader.

Enjoy!

Piccolo

Piccolo would take you somewhere peaceful and intimate, where the two of you could have some privacy. Probably to a remote waterfall or pond where he usually meditates–places that are comfortable and familiar to him that are unlikely to overwhelm either of you.

He would approach a first date with quiet intensity, almost as if it were a goal that needed to be overcome. Despite the outward air of seriousness, deep down he would be quite nervous and awkward, purely because he would want to do a good job and impress you. 

Piccolo would show his care in quiet yet practical ways. Ensuring that you’re comfortable outside, making sure you’re warm, or subtly positioning himself between you and anything that has the smallest chance of being a threat (death glaring a wasp).

Never one for small talk, conversation would be minimal at first, with long stretches of comfortable silence. However, do not be surprised if he tries to share some existential wisdom from his training, or try to teach you about the nature around you. There is also a chance he cracks a dry, sarcastic joke. Making you laugh would make his heart skip a beat.

If the date ends well, he might offer an almost hesitant, yet fond nod, or give your head a little pat before parting ways, until you meet again. 

Zamasu 

Zamasu would take you somewhere grand, somewhere he would consider ‘sophisticated’. Perhaps an elegant tea house (with all the flavours and sweet treats), or a floating temple: somewhere where he could flex his knowledge of the universes to you. 

He would have complete confidence in his ability to woo you, prior to your date. He is a divine being, after all. 

Zamasu would initially act polite and composed, displaying impeccable manners, but his arrogance would quickly reveal itself. Throughout your date, he would speak at length about his beliefs, monologing about justice and how transitory mortal life is.

However, he would consider you somebody ‘worthy of his caliber’, and this would be evident in his small gestures. Things like resting a hand on your back, or maybe even linking his arm with yours. All while trying to hide the blush on his cheeks and the glances he was sneaking at you. 

If you challenged or questioned his views, he’d laugh, intrigued yet slightly annoyed. He wouldn’t admit to enjoying his time with you, but he would find you intellectually stimulating, particularly when you point out that life being short can sometimes be a good thing. 

“You are… different from the other mortals.”

Whether that’s a compliment or a warning, time would tell. 

Android 17

17 would offer a date with a casual, adventurous atmosphere. Maybe a hike around the island, or a quiet walk along an empty beach in the stillness of sunset.

He wouldn’t get too carried away planning for the date or getting himself ready, he believes that less can be more, and doesn’t want to make you nervous with an extravagant arrangement. 

17 would not be one for flowery compliments, but he would show his interest through little acts, like letting you hold onto him while walking on uneven ground, or teaching you about all the animals on the island with a confident smile. He would love how your eyes would light up when he showed you an animal or plant you’d never seen before. Or when you’d ask him questions about nature, and he could sate your curiosity with his vast knowledge. 

If you asked him about himself to get to know him better, he would avoid answering directly and with a smirk. But if you were persistent enough, he might share something insightful that would linger in your mind (like hinting at the fact that he is an android!). 

When your date would come to an end, he’d give a short, genuine “This was nice,” before heading off, leaving just enough mystery to make you want to see him again. 

Caulifla 

Caulifla would treat her date more like a fun challenge rather than a traditional romantic outing. No flowers or chocolates here, folks. She would take you somewhere unorthodox like a bustling evening street market, a high-energy race, or maybe even invite you to come watch her beat somebody up. 

Whilst getting ready, Caulifla would act like she had you totally bagged, more so to convince herself so she didn’t have a nervous meltdown and call for Cabba. 

During your date, she wouldn’t openly admit she’s having a great time, but her excited grin and how she would linger close to you would be a dead giveaway. If you really rub off on her, she might give you a playful swat. “You’re not half bad. Don’t get soft on me, though.” 

She would tease you, poking at your cheeks and making fun of your blush. Not enough to actually upset you, of course, but enough to ruffle your feathers and make you swoon. Expect lots of light-hearted physical contact: hand-holding or resting her chin on your shoulder. 

Caulifla is not one for shy or coy goodbyes. If you’re lucky, she might just pull you into a hurried, impulsive kiss before dashing off with a cocky wink and a wave. 

Hit

The stoic assassin would like to keep things cool and minimalistic, choosing a location that is quiet but not too personal. Maybe a chill bar late at night, or a rooftop overlooking the city. Somewhere inconspicuous, where he can enjoy your company. 

Hit would approach your date with his usual calm, ignoring the flicker of nerves in his stomach. He was a successful hitman, but going on a date with you was seemingly enough to make him second guess himself.

He would not partake in a lot of small talk, content for there to be quiet between your conversations. But when he does speak, each word is deliberate and meaningful. He would keep tabs on your surroundings with a watchful eye, making sure that the two of you would not run into any situations that would endanger your safety. 

Hit would observe you closely, noting every small shift in your body language, every reaction and expression on your face. Not to be intrusive, but just calculating and analytical. He would remain respectful, but he would also admire your appearance quietly. If you could keep up with his cryptic, dry humour, he might give you a tiny smile. 

Afterwards, he would say something simple but meaningful. “I don’t usually make time for things like this, but I’m glad I did.” 

Then he would be gone, before you could even say goodbye. Not before he asked you out for a second date, of course.