#i need them to hate each other and love each other and be each other's everything

[holyblonded]

beggin’ | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: you beg alexia for a dog but she doesn’t believe your responsible enough

warnings: dog slander, hurt animal

notes: eagles won and i have been on a high 😭 but classes are canceled this week cause of the snow so enjoy

“So you hate me? Because that’s all I’m hearing,” you argued, trailing after Alexia as the two of you walked into the weight room.

The gym was already buzzing with activity—Aitana and Patri doing resistance band workouts, Mapi and Ingrid spotting each other on the bench press, and Vicky and Ona lazily stretching while gossiping about God knows what. You, however, were too focused on your current battle.

Alexia exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was already exhausted. “Estrelleta, no vuelvas a decir eso. Te quiero con todo mi corazón, pero no. (don’t say that again. i love you with all my heart, but no)”

The finality in her voice crushed your hopes… Again.

With a defeated sigh, you dramatically slid yourself down the nearest wall like your world had just ended. Ona and Vicky immediately burst into laughter at your theatrics.

“Oh no, she’s gonna start monologuing,” Vicky teased.

“Tragic,” Ona added, shaking her head.

Before you could hit full sulking mode, a tattooed hand appeared in front of your face. Lucy.

“Come on, drama queen,” she said, effortlessly yanking you off the floor and throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Still trying to convince La Reina?”

“She’s immune to my suffering,” you mumbled, allowing yourself to be guided toward the treadmill.

“What is it now?” Lucy asked, already looking amused.

“The puppy,” Ona answered for you, smirking. “She’s been denied again.”

Lucy clicked her tongue. “Rough.”

“Right?” You sighed as you climbed onto the treadmill, setting it to the slowest possible speed. “She doesn’t understand how much this means to me.”

“I understand perfectly,” Alexia called out from across the room without even looking at you. “I also understand that I do not need a dog destroying my apartment.”

“But I’d train it so well!” You protested, turning dramatically in her direction, which nearly sent you stumbling off the treadmill. Lucy had to grab your arm to keep you upright.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucy chuckled. “You can barely train yourself.”

Vicky and Ona snickered from their mats.

“Et tu, Brute?” You gasped at Lucy’s betrayal.

“I’m just saying, if Alexia says no, you’re not winning that battle,” Lucy shrugged. “She’s got the stubborn gene.”

“No one’s ever won an argument against her,” Ona added.

“Except Irene,” Vicky pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s because Irene fights dirty,” Lucy laughed.

You crossed your arms, still pouting. “I refuse to give up. She can’t resist me forever.”

Alexia, now stretching with Aitana, turned to glance at you. “Try me.”

The weight room erupted with laughter, and even you couldn’t help but grin. You weren’t giving up, though. One way or another, you were getting that puppy.

The apartment was dimly lit, candles flickering on the coffee table, giving the illusion of an intimate, important gathering. Alexia and Olga sat on the couch, arms crossed, faces unreadable, as you stood in front of them, remote in hand, ready to present your magnum opus.

A massive title slide was projected onto the TV screen:

“WHY I, ESTRELLITA, DESERVE A DOG (AND WHY YOU SHOULD LET ME HAVE ONE)”

You cleared your throat dramatically. “Ladies and, well, just ladies—thank you for coming tonight. I know you’re busy, Alexia with captaining, Olga with being very sexy, but this is a matter of utmost importance.”

Olga smirked, clearly enjoying herself. Alexia, on the other hand, was already rubbing her temples. Not a great start, but you pressed on.

“Slide one, please.”

You clicked the remote, and the next slide popped up. “REASONS I NEED A DOG” was written in bold letters, accompanied by an image of the saddest, most heartbroken puppy you could find on Google.

“Point one,” you began, pacing like a lawyer in a high-stakes courtroom drama. “Companionship. As a hardworking footballer and occasional agent of chaos, I deal with immense stress. A dog will provide me with emotional support, cuddles, and, most importantly, unconditional love.”

“You literally live with us,” Alexia interrupted.

“Exactly,” you shot back. “And yet, somehow, I still feel alone.”

“Wow,” Olga muttered, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“Moving on,” you said quickly, clicking to the next slide.

This one had a picture of you edited into a stock image of someone running with a golden retriever. “EXERCISE AND FITNESS!”

“A dog will encourage me to stay active outside of training! Long walks, jogs, and playful activities will not only keep me fit but also keep me in peak condition for Barça. You both want me in peak condition, don’t you?”

“Or,” Alexia said, unimpressed, “you could just… go on a run.”

“Who am I, Eliud Kipchoge? No. I need a motivator.”

Alexia sighed. Olga, to your delight, nodded thoughtfully. “She makes a good point, Ale. Running with a dog is more fun.”

You gasped dramatically. “Thank you, my ally!”

“Don’t call her that,” Alexia warned.

Next slide.

“RESPONSIBILITY & MATURITY”

“With a dog, I will develop a deeper sense of responsibility,” you declared proudly. “I will wake up early to feed it, I will train it, I will clean up after it—“

Alexia held up a hand. “You literally leave your socks in the living room for days.”

“That’s different,” you argued. “A dog is a living being. My socks are… just socks.”

“You also ‘forget’ to take to take the trash out,” Alexia finished for you, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, but in my defense, the trash doesn’t wag its tail and look at me with big, adorable eyes when it wants to go outside,” you shot back, clicking to the next slide before she could counter.

This one was titled “LOOK AT THESE DOGS AND TELL ME YOU DON’T WANT ONE” and featured an entire collage of the cutest, most heart-melting puppy pictures you could find.

Olga audibly gasped. Alexia, despite her best efforts, blinked a few too many times at a particularly fluffy golden retriever puppy in the center.

“You like that one, don’t you?” you asked smugly, pointing at the screen.

“No,” Alexia said quickly, looking away.

“She totally does,” Olga whispered, nudging her.

“Fine,” Alexia huffed. “Yes, it’s cute. But cuteness is not a reason to adopt an animal!”

“That is literally the best reason to adopt an animal!” you argued.

Alexia groaned and slumped back into the couch. Olga, however, was still staring at the pictures, and you knew you had her right where you wanted her.

Click. Next slide.

“POSSIBLE NAMES FOR OUR FUTURE DOG”

“What do you mean ‘our’ future dog?” Alexia interrupted, sitting up again.

“Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue!” you said quickly. “Now, first name option: Messi.”

“Absolutely not,” Alexia deadpanned.

“Fine, fine. Option two: Little Estrella, or Estrellita Junior.”

“Pass,” Olga snorted.

“Okay, okay,” you sighed dramatically. “Final suggestion: Captain Paws or Captain Culer.”

Olga nodded her voice breaking the silence. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Thank you!” you beamed.

Alexia groaned, rubbing her face. “This is ridiculous.”

Click.

The final slide appeared, in all its dramatic glory: “WHY YOU SHOULD SAY YES – AN EMOTIONAL APPEAL” with a giant photo of you, making your best sad, pleading puppy eyes.

You turned to them, arms spread. “In conclusion, I am but a simple footballer, yearning for the love of a small, fluffy creature. I ask for nothing—except this one thing, this one chance at happiness. Will you grant it?”

Silence stretched in the room. You held your breath.

Olga exhaled, turning to Alexia. “You know, I think she’s really thought this through—”

“Don’t encourage her,” Alexia muttered.

“Alexia,” you said, your voice trembling dramatically, “are you really going to stand in the way of my happiness? My growth? My dreams?”

Alexia pinched the bridge of her nose, then finally groaned in defeat. “If—IF—we get a dog, it’s on you. You feed it. You walk it. You clean up after it. And the first time you forget, it’s my dog. Understood?”

Your eyes widened. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m considering it,” Alexia sighed.

You let out an ear-splitting cheer, immediately lunging at her and wrapping her in a suffocating hug.

“Best decision of your life, Cap!”

“I already regret it,” Alexia muttered, but you could see the tiniest, smallest smile on her lips.

Olga clapped, laughing. “Well, I guess we’re getting a dog.”

You turned, grinning mischievously. “Now, about getting two—”

“Don’t push it,” Alexia warned.

The moment the final whistle blew, you sprinted over to Alexia like a woman on a mission. Your captain barely had time to process what was happening before you clung to her arm like a koala, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“Did you see? Did you see?” you exclaimed, practically vibrating with energy.

“I saw that we won and you scored a goal,” Alexia responded dryly, trying (and failing) to shake you off.

“Not that! That!” You pointed wildly into the stands, where a fan was proudly holding up a neon pink sign that read in massive, glittery letters: “LET ESTRELLA GET A DOG!”

Alexia stared at it, then slowly turned to look at you.

“You didn’t,” she said.

“Oh, but I did,” you grinned. “Posted it on my story this morning. The people have spoken, Ale. The movement has begun.”

“Estrelleta.” Alexia pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling like she was gathering the last ounce of patience left in her body.

Aitana jogged over, took one look at the sign, and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re actually rallying the fans?”

“Absolutely,” you said proudly. “Strength in numbers.”

Alexia rubbed her temples like she was fighting off a migraine. “You are unbelievable.”

“But lovable,” you shot back.

“That is debatable,” she muttered, but you could see the tiniest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

As you all made your way off the pitch, you continued your relentless campaign.

“You know, Ale, dogs are great stress relievers,” you pointed out. “And I know how much stress you have. Wouldn’t it be nice to come home to a happy little fluffball that loves you unconditionally?”

“I already have you for that,” she deadpanned.

“Okay, rude,” you huffed. “But imagine—just imagine—a tiny puppy running towards you after a long day. Tail wagging. Ears flopping. Looking up at you with those big, round eyes—”

“You are not winning me over with emotional manipulation,” Alexia interrupted, stepping into the tunnel.

“Okay, but what if I told you I already have a list of shelters we can visit?”

“Of course you do,” she sighed.

Back in the locker room, you continued your noble mission. Even while changing out of your kit, you pestered her.

“Alexia, picture this: me, walking a dog in our neighborhood. Think of the aesthetic.”

“Alexia, a dog would be great company when you’re watching game footage.”

“Alexia, if we get a golden retriever, we could name it Oro! Like gold! Get it?”

“Alexia, please—”

“Y/n,” Alexia finally cut you off, slamming her locker shut. “I love you. But if you mention a dog one more time today, I will personally call Nike and have them cancel your entire cleat line.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest like she had just stabbed you. “I thought you cared about my happiness!”

“I do. Which is why I am going to shower in peace now, without hearing the word ‘dog’ for the next ten minutes,” she said, pointing at you warningly before walking off.

You pouted, watching her go.

Ona and Vicky, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, exchanged amused glances.

“You’re really not giving up on this, huh?” Vicky asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said with determination. “She’ll cave. She always does.”

Ona grinned. “I give it a week.”

“Ale will last at least two,” Vicky countered.

You smirked. “She’ll break in five days. Maximum.”

And with that, you pulled out your phone and posted another story: “THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES. #LetEstrellaGetADog”—complete with a picture of the fan sign from the stands.

Because if Alexia thought this battle was over, she had another thing coming.

The storm outside was relentless, rain lashing against the windows as thunder rumbled through the streets of Barcelona. The second you slipped through the front door, you knew you were in trouble.

You weren’t exactly subtle about it.

For one, you were soaked—dripping water all over the floor like some stray cat who’d just climbed out of a sewer. Your shoes squelched with every step as you walked to the stairs, and to make matters worse, you were gripping the straps of your suspiciously bulky backpack like your life depended on it.

“Estrelleta.”

You froze mid-step, eyes darting toward the living room.

Alexia stood there, arms crossed, her expression radiating ‘I am fed up with everything what have you done.’ Behind her, Olga was peeking over the couch, squinting like she was a detective in a crime drama.

“Uh… hey,” you tried, flashing a completely innocent smile.

Alexia’s eyes narrowed immediately. “What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing!” You answered too quickly.

Olga sat up straighter. “Then why do you look like you just robbed a bank?”

“I—what? That’s crazy!” You let out a nervous laugh, gripping the straps even tighter. “Can’t a person come home after a refreshing walk in the rain without being accused of high-level felonies?”

“In a thunderstorm?” Alexia deadpanned.

“…Hydration is important?”

Alexia didn’t even blink.

You took a careful step backward toward the stairs. “Anyway! I am so tired. I’m just gonna go upstairs—”

“Give me the bag.”

“Ale, let’s be rational about this—”

Alexia was already walking toward you, and before you could flee for your life, she snatched the zipper and yanked it open.

Immediately, a tiny, miserable whimper came from inside. Olga gasped as Alexia’s soul left her body.

Very, very slowly, you reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny, soaked, shivering puppy.

The little Presa Canario pup blinked up at them with big, glossy eyes, looking like the saddest little gremlin on the planet. One of his tiny paws was wrapped in a bandage, and his whole body trembled as he let out a soft, tragic little huff.

Olga? Immediate meltdown.

“Oh my god!” she squealed, grabbing his tiny face. “HE’S A BABY!”

Alexia on the other hand… immediate crisis.

“Estrelleta.”

“Before you say anything.” you blurted, clutching the puppy to your chest like a newborn child, “he was alone in the rain, Ale! He was limping, and he looked so scared, and I couldn’t just leave him!”

Olga was already cooing at the puppy, rubbing his ears. “Look at his little nose!”

“Look at his little future as a massive security risk,” Alexia countered, rubbing her temples. “Do you realize how big Presa Canarios get?”

“Big enough to protect our home!” you argued immediately. “It’s like free security! We won’t need an alarm system anymore!”

“You don’t even lock the front door half the time.”

“Because I’m trusting!”

“Because you’re an easy target for burglars.”

The puppy, sensing tension, let out a tiny, heartbreaking sneeze and rested his head on your arm like some kind of Oscar-winning performance in sadness.

Olga audibly gasped. “Ale, LOOK AT HIM. He’s one of us now!”

Alexia sighed like a parent catching their kid trying to sneak dessert before dinner. The puppy lifted his injured little paw like he was saying ‘help me, ma’am.’

Alexia groaned, rubbing her face. “I hate both of you.”

“So that’s a yes?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s a ‘we’re going to the vet first thing in the morning’,” Alexia muttered. “Then we’re going to the pet store, because we don’t have a single thing for a dog in this house.”

You and Olga erupted into cheers, bouncing the puppy happily between you.

“Thank you, Ale!” you beamed. “You won’t regret this!”

“I already do,” Alexia muttered, but her lips were twitching upward anyway.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Real Man"

Older Au Chapter 3.

THIS IS A MATURE STORY. IT HAS SOME SEXUAL SENCES, IF YOU DONT LIKE DON'T READ. Ok yall ik i said i was gonna post this last night but i hated it so i rewrote it! if it sucks don't say anything pls. sorry if it's repetitive, lmk whose team ur on!!! And what you want to happen next. comments, reblogs, likes and kind asks are always appreciated. If this one random anon keeps sending theses crazy things, i'll have to remove anon asks, which I dont want to do. I love my anons, so pls be nice. Send in asks, I miss yall, I've been sooooo busy with school lately and I havent had time to get on here. THIS IS MY 1ST TIME WRITNG ANYTHING LIKE THIS SO LMK HOW IT ISSSSS

WHY AM I GETTING THE FEWLINF EVERYONE HATES THIS??? IM ABT TO DELEYEB TS NGL 😭

Six months had passed since that night—the night you let Slade’s words sink into your skin like venom and made the choice that changed everything. For better and worse.

You hadn't accepted his offer easily. Not after what happened with Two-Face. That betrayal still sat in your chest like a dull ache, a constant reminder of how easily people could take what they wanted and leave you with nothing. You had sworn not to trust so easily again, not to let yourself fall into another cycle of being used and discarded. So when Slade made his offer, you hesitated.

"You're smarter than this," you had told yourself that night. "You know what happens when you trust the wrong person. You know what men like him want."

And yet, here you were. Living in his world.

Not as a prisoner, not as a puppet, but as something more. The lines were blurred, shifting with every glance, every order he gave that you didn’t question, every moment that stretched too long in the dim glow of your shared space. Because that’s what it was now, shared.

The apartment Slade had set up was far from a safe house. It was huge and spacious, Slade wasn't a cheap man. It felt lived in. Your things mingled with his, your scent lingering in the air. You bought vases and filled them with flowers, you organized the kitchen and bought him real groceries, not just canned food. You hung pictures you developed of you and him. Ones he didn't know you took. You roped him into painting your room a baby blue, a color he swore he hated, yet he still slept in your room every night. It was comical to see such a large man laying in a pastel colored room on your floral bedsheets, the last man you let into your bed was equally large. But we don't talk about him.

Slade cared for you deeply, or at least tolerated you. At first you were always at each others throats, each person throwing a more cutting remark than the other. When your arguements got so bad that you began to ignore him, he brought home women, made sure he heard them moaning through the walls till you snapped and began screaming.

You hated Slade Wilson

But after the first month things began to change, Slade never said anything about it, but you caught the way his eyes would darken when he returned from a mission, his gaze sweeping over you like he needed to confirm you were still here. Like he expected you to disappear.

You leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye as he cleaned his weapons. The rhythmic motion of his hands, the way he handled each blade with the kind of care most reserved for something fragile, it was almost mesmerizing. Everything he does is.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up. God, he's so smug.

You scoffed. "No, you are. I don't stare at creepy old men. In fact, it's usually the opposite."

His lips curled into that knowing smirk, the one that made something tighten in your chest. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

The nickname used to irritate you. Now, you weren’t sure what it did. All you knew was that it made your heart race the way only one person had before. He used to call you sweetheart too.

Slade’s presence in your life was suffocating, an unshakable force that wrapped itself around you, squeezing tighter with every passing day. He was cruel in the way he trained you, brutal in his expectations. If you failed, he had no patience for it. Slade trained you for greatness and he wouldn't tolerate anything less.

“You call that a punch?” he sneered one evening in your early days of training, after you had barely managed to land a hit on him. “Pathetic. I’ve seen senior citizens put up more of a fight,"

Gritting your teeth, you launched at him again, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. A sharp pain bloomed across your ribs as he shoved you down, hard. The thing that you loved and hated most about Slade was that he treated you like an equal. He didn't see you as his younger, fragile, kind-of girlfriend; he saw you as an equal opponent.

“You hesitated,” he said, standing over you. “That hesitation will get you killed.”

You spat blood onto the mat and glared up at him. “Or maybe I just don’t care if I live or die. Nothing is ever really this serious.”

Something flickered in his eye, dark and unreadable, before he crouched beside you. His fingers dug into your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He didn't understand your humor sometimes, considering he's old enough to be your father.

“Oh, but you do, you want to survive. To be great, ” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He let go of you with a sharp shove and stood. “Get up. We’re not done.”

The tension between you both had only grown over the months. Slade had a way of pressing in, invading your space without ever needing to touch you. Sure you guys fucked almost twice, sometimes three times a week, but there was that small sliver of confusion and hesitation.

Sure, he slept in your bed ever night now, called it "our room," and sure you stayed up waiting when his missions would take too long. Yeah, you would run and jump into his open arms, feeling nothing but content as he kissed your forehead and took you to the bed, it's normal that ya'll didn't even have sex some nights, that you just cuddled.

Sometimes, you swore he was waiting, waiting for you to be the one to close that final inch between you. But you never did. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you fell into a rhythm. Training. Fighting. Learning with him and laughing with him. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had, demanding perfection, never letting you slip back into old habits. He didn’t coddle you like they did. He didn’t pretend you were something delicate. He made you strong.

Most nights, after an exhausting day of training, you would sit on the brown leather couch cuddled up to him with your head on his chest and his arms around you, the dim glow of the television flickering between you. Slade wasn’t much for small talk, you talked enough for the both of you, but the silence between you felt... comfortable, almost warm

“Why did you take me in?” you had asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

He had taken a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. “Because I saw something in you,” he finally answered. “Potential. Something you’re too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, you wondered if there was truth in his words. You liked that he believed in you, no one had done that before.

Then there were the other moments. The ones that made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge. The way he stood too close when showing you how to hold a blade properly, his breath warm against your skin. The way his hands lingered too long when correcting your stance. The way his gaze dropped to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

Neither of you ever acknowledged it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. It's completely normal for your teacher/mentor/enemy to sleep in the same bed as you every night. It'd be weird if you didn't make breakfast and dinner for the two of you. It'd be weird if you didn't know his favorite foods and if he didn't know how to braid your hair. It'd be even weirder if he didn't make you coffee exactly how you like it and help you put away the dishes.

Slade had become an inescapable presence, his control over you extending far beyond training. He knew where you were at all times, had a way of appearing when you least expected it, his eyes always sharp, always knowing. Some nights, when you tried to slip out for air, you’d find him already outside, leaning against a wall as if he’d been waiting for you. He let you do what you wanted, think you were free, but he was always watching you.

If you were singing at a bar, you could count on him to be in the crowd. If you met with Selina at a restaurant you could count on him to drive you home. Slade was always there. Selina thought it was strange, you took comfort in it.

“You really think you can go anywhere without me knowing?” he had mused once, a shadow of amusement in his voice.

It should have bothered you. Maybe it did. But part of you had started to crave it, the way he made you feel like you belonged to him, even if neither of you would ever admit it.

Slade had been… watchful lately. More than usual. He came back late from missions, missions he didn't let you come to, sometimes with a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. He was hesitant to let you go and preform at bars, sometimes convincing you to just play the songs on your guitar in the living room and run your fingers through his hair as you both laid on the couch.

There were the calls—brief, coded. You were offended, Slade told you almost everything these days but somehow no amount of sweet talk and bedroom eyes could get him to budge this time. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in the city’s underworld. More movement in Gotham than usual. The quiet whispers of old ghosts stirring, names you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

Dick. Jason. Tim. Damian. Bruce.

You saw it in the way certain streets had too many eyes. As if waiting. As if listening.

And then there was the whisper of something else. Something darker, something clawing at the edge of your awareness. A name that had once sent a thrill through you, now only bringing unease and resentment.

Harvey Dent.

A name you hadn’t spoken in months, yet it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake. A man you couldn't bare to even think of. A drink left for you at a bar you hadn't performed at in weeks, a coat draped over the back of a chair that looked too familiar.

Slade noticed before you did. “You’ve got a ghost,” he murmured one evening, the flicker of a knife between his fingers. “One that doesn’t know how to stay buried.”

You didn’t ask him what he meant. You didn’t have to. You already knew. You just didn't know why. Had he finally seen through Tiffany, now that it was too late?

At first, you didn’t question it. Slade had always been territorial—watchful, overbearing when he wanted to be. He had a way of controlling things without seeming like he was. That was how he worked.

So when you first noticed the shifts, you didn’t react. Your schedule changed, but not because you changed it.

You used to go out when you wanted. Walk the streets when they were quiet, feel the Gotham night press against your skin, the air cold and sharp. Not anymore.

Things began to change this week. Now, every time you thought about leaving, something stopped you.

The fridge was always stocked, eliminating any reason to step outside. Your favorite food. Your favorite drinks. Little things appeared when you needed them; new clothes, supplies, anything that might have made you leave for even a moment. Things you mentioned only in passing, like the new lipstick you wanted or a pair of vintage heels or a new bag.

If you reached for your coat, Slade would speak before you even touched the door. Asking where you were going, trying to be casual.

It was never a command. Never outright control. But the implication was there. And every time you hesitated, he won. If you needed to leave or just wanted to go out, he would come with; a silent yet protective figure always in the shadows.

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been peaceful but wasn’t. The apartment smelled like old wood and gun oil, the faintest trace of smoke lingering from Slade’s cigar earlier. You had just stepped out of the shower, skin still warm from the heat, hair damp as you walked barefoot across the floor in your towel.

Your hand brushed against the pretty golden door knob absentmindedly.

And then you froze. Something was different.

Your fingers curled around the lock, tracing over the new ridges, the reinforced structure. The weight of it felt wrong.

It wasn’t your lock. Not the cute one you insisted on buying at the antique shop that Slade hated. It didn't match the walls.

Your stomach twisted. You turned slowly, your damp hair clinging to your skin as your mind raced. This wasn’t an accident. You hadn’t imagined it. Slade had changed the locks. The thought sent something icy down your spine. Alarm bells blared in your mind.

You tried to shake it off, tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was security. Maybe he just wanted better protection.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. Because he didn’t tell you. Because Slade never did anything without a purpose. Because Slade Wilson didn't need a lock to keep people out. And because you hadn’t noticed until now. You took a slow, steady breath and turned toward the living room.

Slade was there, like always, seated in his usual chair by the window, sharpening a knife. The sound of steel against whetstone was rhythmic, deliberate. His posture was relaxed, but you weren’t fooled. His fingers were too steady, his shoulders just a little too still.

He was waiting. Watching. Like he had already predicted this moment, like he was ready for an argeument. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, heart pounding too fast, not caring if you were in a towel.

"Planning on keeping me in a cage?" you muttered.

Slade didn’t pause. Didn’t even look up. “Planning on keeping you alive.” The words were so smooth, so easy, that your stomach turned.

Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t hiding it. He wasn't denying it. Not anymore. This wasn’t a mistake. This was intentional.

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow in your throat. “Right. Because I’m just so incapable of keeping myself safe. Even after all the training we've done. Even with my literal super-human abilities.”

Slade finally looked up. His eye locked onto yours.

There was no humor in his gaze. No smirk, like he usually had on while teasing. Just that slow, assessing stare that made your pulse stutter.

"If I thought you were capable of that," he murmured, voice quiet, too quiet, "we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Your chest tightened. Because the way he said it sent something sinking into the pit of your stomach. This wasn’t just about protecting you. This was about making sure you never left.

Two days later, you decided to test it. Just to see what would happen. Slade had stepped out—or so he wanted you to believe. The moment you heard the door shut behind him, you moved.

Your fingers curled around the knob.

Turned it— but a large, scared hand beat you two it

"Going somewhere?"

Your entire body locked up. You gulped and licked your suddenly dry lips, he had you cornered with one hand on the knob and the other caging you in as he towered over you. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. You turned slowly, pulse thrumming in your throat. Slade stood right behind you.

The door was still closed.

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard him come back. Hadn’t even realized he was there. So much for super hearing. Nothing worked on Slade Wilson. You kept your expression neutral. Didn’t let him see the panic creeping up your throat.

"Didn’t realize I had a curfew," you muttered with an uneasy grin, trying to start your usual banter. Slade didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. Just watched you.

“You don’t.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t step aside. Didn’t let you leave. The silence stretched too long.

Finally, you forced a smile, tilting your head. “Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Nothing changed in his expression. But you could feel the weight of his stare. Then he tilted his head, eye dark and calculating.

“It's not safe out there anymore. Not for you.”

You blinked. Something in his tone shifted.Not amusement. Not control. Something else. Something darker. Like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

Your stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t even move.

Just let the question hang in the air, stretching the silence tight between you. And that’s when it hit you.

He wasn’t stopping you because he was afraid you’d leave.

He was stopping you because something else was waiting outside.

Something he wasn’t telling you about.

Your mouth went dry. Slade finally let out a slow, amused breath, pushing off the wall.

And then—

He stepped aside. A challenge. Daring you to open the door. You hesitated. And that was all it took.

The moment you hesitated, you lost. Slade smirked, shaking his head like he had already predicted every move you would make. "Let's get to bed." He rasped out, looking at you with dark, seductive eyes.

And then he turned, walking past you like the conversation was over. Because it was. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave now.

The next morning, the locks changed again. The windows were reinforced. Your pretty pink curtains replaced with black shutters. Your phone stopped working. You couldn't call Selina. Every excuse to leave was removed before you could even think about it. You tried not to panic. Tried not to question it.

But Slade was closing the walls in. And you weren’t sure if it was to keep someone out—

Or to keep you in.

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence.

You had slipped into a bar down the street, needing to breathe, needing something normal.

The moment you stepped in, your stomach turned. Something familiar. Cologne. Not just any cologne. Expensive. Sharply tailored. The scent of whiskey and authority.

You froze.

Your mind screamed at you. It’s just someone else wearing it. It’s just your imagination. And then you saw it. A glass at the bar. Untouched. Neat. No ice. A double pour. your breath hitched.

Harvey’s drink.

It wasn’t until you came home that you truly realized. Because that’s when you saw the rose.

A single red rose on the kitchen counter.

Waiting for you. Your entire body went cold. It wasn’t from Slade. It couldn’t be from Slade. Slade would never bring you roses, he wasn't a gentleman. And he knew you liked hydrangeas and peonies now.

You turned slowly and nearly threw up.

Slade was already standing there. Watching. Waiting. His jaw was tight. His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t say anything. And that’s when you knew,

He had seen this coming.

“Where did that come from?” you asked, voice thin. Why was he doing this? Was shattering your heart not enough? Did he want to ruin things with you and Slade?

Slade didn’t answer. Instead, he walked forward, plucked the rose from the counter, and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly. Deliberately. Then, he crushed it.

Your stomach dropped. The petals crumbled to the floor. His voice was dangerously calm. "You tell me, sweetheart."

For the rest of the night, he didn’t let you out of his sight. Not directly holding you hostage, but you felt it. The way he lingered in doorways. The way his hand ghosted too close when you passed him.

Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to ask. Waiting for you to figure it out. Waiting for Harvey to stop playing games and make a real move.

You weren’t sure when it had happened; when you had stopped keeping track of time, stopped caring about the difference between one night and the next. Slade made sure you had no reason to count the days. He made sure you had no reason to want anything. You woke up every morning in his arms and went to bed satisfied and well loved. It wasn’t a prison but it wasn’t freedom either. It was something in between. A limbo of his design. A small slice of heaven in hell.

You were happy. But something was off, Slade was being more paranoid and he got less subtle about it each day.

You weren’t trapped, not physically. Slade let you leave the apartment. You weren’t chained to the walls, weren’t locked in a room. He took you out on missions, let you get your hands dirty alongside him, let you breathe in the crisp Gotham air under the cover of night. In some ways, those nights were the only times you felt alive, other than when you were with Slade. The weight of a blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from the chase, the sharp adrenaline rush of the fight, of using your powers on someone they affected; it reminded you that you still existed outside of this quiet game he played with you. Because that’s what it was. A game.

Slade never said it outright, never told you he was keeping you on a leash, but you could feel it tightening with every passing week. At first, it was small things. The way he subtly redirected missions away from Gotham’s city center, keeping you to the outskirts, where the shadows were deeper and the chances of running into familiar faces were slimmer. The way he always made sure you stayed close during a job, always just within arm’s reach. It wasn’t just protection. You knew better than that. It was control. He was testing you, waiting to see if you would try to slip away, if you would give him a reason to remind you just how easily he could pull you back.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the real test wasn’t in the field. It was what happened after.

After the job was done, after the adrenaline had settled into exhaustion, after the long, banter filled walk back to wherever Slade had decided to keep you that night. It was in the way he never let you wander too far. The way his hand would hover at the small of your back without quite touching, guiding you down the streets like he was the one who decided where you went. It was in the way he never left you alone for too long.

At first, you told yourself it was coincidence. Slade was always working, always had something that needed his attention. But then you started to notice the patterns. You ate together, you slept together, trained together, hell; you even showered together. You were never alone for more than a few hours. If he had business elsewhere, you were given something to occupy your time—training, surveillance, a task that kept you exactly where he wanted you.

You tested it once again, just to see what would happen. After he had left for what you thought was a routine meeting, you had grabbed your coat and made your way to the door. You weren’t even thinking about leaving him, not really. You just wanted to see if you could. If there was still a part of you that could step outside without feeling the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your fingers had just curled around the doorknob when you heard his voice. Low. Even. Inevitable.

“Going somewhere?”

You were getting de ja vu. This happened last time too. You had swallowed hard, pulse spiking in your throat as you turned. He was standing right behind you.

You hadn’t heard the door open. Hadn’t heard his footsteps. He was just there, watching, waiting. The worst part was that he wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, wasn’t raising his voice or blocking your way. He didn’t have to.

Slade had simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eye scanning you with that sharp, unreadable expression that made your stomach twist. “Didn’t realize I needed permission,” you had said, forcing your voice to stay steady. You wouldn't let him control everything, not another man would be in charge of your life.

“You don’t.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he had already solved. “Just wondering if you really think it’s safe out there.”

Not this odd shit again.

That made you pause. The way he said it. Not like a threat. Not like he was trying to scare you into staying. He said it the same way as last time. Like he already knew something you didn’t.

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “What are you talking about? You said this last time.”

Slade didn’t answer right away. He just let the silence stretch, let you feel the weight of your own hesitation. Then, slowly, he took a step back. Another challenge.

“If you want to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door, “go.”

Your breath caught. You should have. You should have walked out.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew that if you did, if you stepped outside now, you wouldn’t just be walking into Gotham. You would be walking into something else. Something waiting.

Slade knew it. And now, so did you.

You swallowed hard, stepping back from the door. Slade huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head like you had just proven his point. Then, without another word, he walked past you and disappeared into the other room. That was the moment you knew, whatever was waiting for you out there was worse than what was waiting inside. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

You found out a week later. A part of it, at least.

The envelope was waiting for you when you returned from a job with Slade, slipped under the apartment door like a whisper of something you had tried to forget. You had bent down, fingers hesitating just for a second before picking it up. The paper was thick, expensive. No return address. No markings. But you didn’t have to open it to know who it was from. The sharp smell of cologne gave it away.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in the back of your throat as you tore it open, your hands gripping the edges a little too tightly. The letter inside was simple. Only four words.

You won't forget me.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. Because the worst part was, he was right. No matter how much Slade consumed you, or your occasional fantasy about Clark; he also stayed on your mind

You barely had time to process it before you heard the apartment door shut behind you. Your fingers snapped the letter closed, chest tightening, but it was too late.

Slade had already seen.

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel it. The shift in the air. The way his shoulders set just a little too still, the way his single eye flickered from your face to the envelope with something dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance between you with the kind of inevitability that made your breath come short.

You turned, but before you could move, his hand shot out. Not rough, not gentle like usual, just firm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting you in place.

“Let go,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for the letter.

You pulled back.

Slade’s grip tightened. “Let me see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. He wasn't used to you denying him these days, not when you loved him.

Your stomach clenched. You didn’t let go, but it didn’t matter. Because Slade never asked twice.

With one sharp tug, he tore the letter from your grasp, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. You watched as his eye scanned the words, his jaw tensing, his fingers tightening around the paper just slightly.

Then, finally, a quiet chuckle. A dark, amused sound. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Your breath hitched. Slade looked at you now. Expression unreadable.

“Do you miss him?” Your heart stopped. You denied it, but you could see in Slade's eyes that he didn't believe you. In the way he turned away from you that night. You didn't blame him, you didn't even believe yourself.

Harvey always knew how to play the long game.

Small things began to shift in your life and you knew who was behind it. The song on the radio. A scarf. A photo photo. They were never coincidences, he didn’t believe in coincidence. The man was calculated, meticulous in his pursuits. When he wanted something, he played patient, steady, unyielding, watching from the shadows, striking when you least expected it.

Slade was the same way, but Slade never needed patience. Slade took what he wanted. Harvey waited for it to come back to him.

The jazz playing in the bar was nothing, just white noise in the background while you sat beside Slade, nursing your drink, your head still fogged from the last mission. You weren’t thinking of anything other than how good it felt to finally sit still.

Then, days later, the scarf appeared. Neatly folded on the couch, like a gift wrapped in silence, waiting for you to pick it up. You hadn’t touched it at first, just stood there, staring at it, fingers twitching at your sides. It was a trick of the mind, an old memory manifesting in a way that didn’t make sense.

Except it wasn’t.

He had been here. Or close enough to touch. You should have told Slade. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And then, the photo. A photo Selina took of you and him dancing at the Pink Pony Club. It smelled like him too.

That was what shattered the illusion of security, the idea that you had control over this. The moment you saw it, you knew.

Harvey had always been a sentimentalist, clinging to memories long past, treasuring things most people would discard.

You, once upon a time, had been one of those things. And now? You weren’t sure. You weren't sure what he wanted, especially since he had Tiffany. You had placed the photo down carefully, afraid to crumple it, afraid to acknowledge what it meant.

You had kept your movements neutral, your breath steady, but Slade had been watching. His presence in the other room was a solid weight pressing into your chest. The shuffle of files, the slow deliberate sound of metal being set down, he was waiting.

He had noticed. Of course, he had. Slade noticed everything. And yet, he didn’t say a word.

You lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling Slade’s presence next to you like a silent storm waiting to break. He wasn’t asking. He was waiting for you to give yourself away. To tell him the truth, to trust him like he trusted you.

Slade had been watching you too closely, keeping his invisible leash tight without ever pulling. That was the way he worked, he let you think you had freedom while keeping you within his reach. If you had tried to leave through the door, he would have known.

So, you didn’t.

You waited, feigned sleep, forced your breathing into something slow, even, something convincing. You heard him move in the other room, heard the creak of his chair, the slow inhale of a cigar.

You moved the moment he shifted. Window, not the door. Silent steps. A fire escape that groaned beneath your weight. By the time Slade glanced back toward the couch, you were already gone.

Harvey knew you would come.

You knew that from the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, the Gotham skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom.

He turned before you could say anything, a slow, easy movement, his face shadowed beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. And then, he smiled. Not a smirk. Not the sharp, dangerous grin you had been expecting. It was something softer. Something more desperate. Like a man in the desert coming across a well.

“Took you long enough, didn't think you got my message. I started thinking that maybe the note didn't reach you.” he murmured. The message he left in the women's bathroom at a bar you and Slade frequented.

Your throat felt tight. You felt hurt all over again. Like someone reopened the wound of his betrayal. Like the same broken girl Slade took in six months ago. You came here for closure. So that it wouldn't hurt when you said his name or sang the songs you wrote for him. “How did you find me?”

What did he want? To torture you? Rub salt in your wounds?

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I never lost you.”

Only Slade called you that now. The words made your stomach twist, a cold knot settling in your chest. You should have walked away then. But you didn’t. Because you had to know.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you haunting me? Not letting me move on?” Your voice shook as you said it. This conversation was long overdue.

Harvey’s fingers gripped the railing, his knuckles white. “Because I need you to listen to me. Just once. Just this once. Hear me out.”

Your heart hammered. Hear him out? He could've started with an apology.

“You think I’ll forgive you?” you spat. You would, because when you looked at him, you still felt the same warmth you did all those months ago; only this time it was mixed with resentment and longing.

He flinched. And for the first time, you saw it—the raw, desperate emotion that he had always hidden behind sharp words and confident grins. The mask cracked, just for a second.

His voice turned rough, unsteady. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know that. But I need you to hear me out.”

You shook your head, stepping back, but he reached out—not touching, not yet, but close.

“You don’t know what’s happening,” he continued, his voice dropping into something urgent, pleading. “Your family—Tim, Dick, all of them—they’re figuring it out. They’re finding out the truth about Tiffany. They'll realize what she's doing, like I did.They'll know soon, maybe not today or tomorrow; but soon. They'll realize she's been using her powers on them like she did to me.”

Your breath came too short. No. This was not happening. Not when you were finally happy again. Not when you think you've fallen in love with Slade.

“No,” you whispered.

Your vision blurred. It was happening. Everything you had tried to scream about for years, everything they had ignored, it was going to come to light. Harvey’s fingers brushed your wrist.

Soft. Careful. Like he was trying not to scare you away.

“And when they realize what they did to you,” he murmured, “they’re going to come running. Crawling back like I am.”

Your stomach twisted.

“They’re going to act like they care,” he continued, voice soft, insidious. “Like they’re sorry. But they’re not. Not like I am. You know that, don’t you?”

Your lips parted. You hated how much sense it made. Hated how deep the doubt had already burrowed into your skin. Hated how genuine and honest he was being, you could sense it. Harvey tilted his head.

And then, voice lower, almost fragile he said, “You don’t have to go back to them.”

Your stomach dropped. You stepped back. “I’m not going back,” you said, voice shaking. Never.

Harvey swallowed hard. And for a moment, you thought he might break, that the weight of what he had done, what he had lost, might finally crush him. But then, he looked at you.

And you saw it, the shift. The danger. Not Two-Face. Not the cold, calculated criminal.

Just Harvey Dent. The man who never let go. “You think you’re free?” he murmured.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Harvey smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You think he just let you leave?”

Your chest tightened. You tried not to show the flicker of doubt, the small crack in your resolve. But Harvey saw it.

And then, voice so soft, so dangerous—“He’s not going to let you go either. He'll keep you locked up. I won't.”

You should have never gone to him.

You had known it was a mistake the second you saw him standing there, leaning against the rooftop railing, the glow of Gotham’s skyline making him look almost human.

But you had gone anyway. Because Harvey had always been a mistake you kept making.

You clenched your fists, how dare he talk about Slade? What right did he have to tell you who to trust. "Yeah and I'm gonna take advice from you. That's rich."

He softened immediately, his regret and remorse so obvious; yet he refused to apologize. You wanted to hit him, hurt him like he hurt you; yet when he stood in front of you in the moonlight, your treacherous heart still beat for him. Your heart didn't want to hurt the man who showed you what love is. The man who picked up the shattered pieces your family and Clark left and rearranged them beautifully. It didn't care that he broke them again; he could fix it.

“I made a mistake. I paid for it, I know the truth now.” He said steadily stepping closer, sensing your reluctance.

Your pulse pounded. “What do you want from me?” You were here for answers, not to rekindle an old flame. Not when you were starting one.

Harvey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing from you. ”

The words hit you too hard. You understood what he was implying, what he wanted. You knew he would come crawling back someday, you just didn't expect it so soon

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Why?”

His smile faltered. His hands curled around the railing, gripping it like he needed something solid to hold on to.

"You know why. But that's not what i called you for. I called you to warn you about your family and Tiffany,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. More desperate. “I can throw them off for a little while, lead them off track and make sure they don't know the truth. If that's what you want. But once they know the truth, they won't leave you alone. Certainly not with him.”

You hated the way your chest tightened with affection at his consideration. You hated that you were here. You hated that he still had a hold on you. You hated how he talked about Slade. You hated hearing him say Tiffany's name, it brought back so much hurt and hatred.

“I don't care about them Keep them away for as long as you want. You know I'm not here to hear about them or your whore.” you said viciously, your eyes shining and your teeth sharpening.

Slade would be proud.

Harvey didn't react to your fangs, he wasn't afraid of you. He came closer and grasped your hand, his eyes so heartbroken that it gave you satisfaction, only for a minute.

His voice cracked slightly. “Nothing I do or say can make up for what I did.” His jaw tightened. “I know that.”

You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because Harvey’s voice dropped lower, his words curling around you like a trap you should have seen coming. “But I need you to know something,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, watching your reaction. “She wanted to be you, she tried so hard.”

Your breath hitched. You knew this. But hearing Harvey say it made you feel so much better.

Harvey’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “But she never could.”

Your stomach dropped. Why did this have to happen now? Why now when you finally forgot about him?

“She dressed like you,” he continued. “Talked like you. Watched the way you moved. The way you laughed.” His voice hardened. “The way you loved.”

You shook your head, backing away. You couldn't take this anymore. You wanted to run back into Slade's arms, where nothing could touch you. “Shut up.”

Harvey didn’t.

“She wanted to take everything from you.” His expression twisted. “And maybe, if I had been a different man, I would have let her.”

Your skin crawled at the thought. Harvey let out a breathless laugh, bitter and sharp. “But I couldn’t. I had to go digging, looking for clues.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard she tried to be. No matter how much she played with my mind, she could never replace you.”

You hated him.

You hated that you believed him.

You hated how you still loved him.

Harvey exhaled sharply, tilting his head, watching you with something frighteningly raw. “Every time she touched me, every time she tried to take something that wasn’t hers—” his voice dropped into something dangerous, low and dark and broken— “I was thinking of you.”

Your breathing came too fast.

Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her,” he whispered, “I wanted it to be you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop. I don't care.” Lies.

“She wasn’t you,” he repeated, voice almost pleading. “She never could be.”

Your throat closed. Your eyes watered and your teeth burned with unshed venom just thinking of his betrayal. Why was this happening.

Harvey’s fingers ghosted over your wrist. Not touching, not quite.

“I never wanted her, not really” he murmured. “Not once.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. This was all you wanted to hear, all you wished for for so long. So why did you feel trapped. Harvey’s voice dropped even lower. He moved even closer

���Tell me, sweetheart.”

You forced yourself to look at him.

“If you don’t care,” he whispered, eyes burning, “why are you still here? Why do you want answers so bad? Why do you still look at me like that?”

You shouldn’t have come.

But you hadn’t been able to help yourself.

Because Harvey always knew what to say, how to linger in your mind like an open wound that refused to heal.

And now here you were, standing under the dim glow of the rooftop’s city lights, your eyes watering, the weight of his gaze pressing into you, sinking into your bones like something familiar, something dangerous.

You forced yourself to keep your stance steady, your pulse even. “You don’t get to ask me those questions.”

Harvey let out a breath, almost a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His hands curled around the railing as he moved away from you again, gripping the cold metal like it was the only thing keeping him from reaching for you.

“Do you know how many times I told myself you were gone? That I lost you, ” His voice was steady now, but there was an edge to it—something dangerous. “How many times I tried to let you go, to let you move on?”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else, something more dangerous. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. I didn't want you to regret your choice. I didn't want anything but happiness for you. No matter how much you hurt me.”

Harvey’s fingers twitched.

“No.” His lips pressed together in a thin line, he knew the truth, that you always wished the best for him. “No, you didn’t.”

The wind curled between you, cold and sharp, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. You should have turned away. Should have walked back the way you came.

But then Harvey laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“She used her little snake charm but somehow,” he continued, “after a week I was thinking of you. I never loved her. Couldn't even bring myself to like her, honestly.”

Your stomach dropped. It was a gut punch, sharp and unforgiving. He saw it—the flicker of emotion in your face, the tightening of your jaw, the way your breathing caught for just a second too long.

And Harvey, Two-Face, the man who never let go, moved forward, voice soft, eyes burning.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I never stopped loving you”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up.”

He ignored you. Again.

“I love you so much,” he said, voice low. “You love me too or you wouldn't be here.”

“I said shut up.” He was right, he always is.

Harvey smirked, but there was nothing victorious in it. It was almost self-loathing.

“I never loved her,” he whispered again. He was making sure you knew.

“She wanted me to,” he continued. “She wanted to take everything from you.” His jaw tightened. “And maybe, if you had been a different woman, I would have let her.”

The thought of it made your skin crawl.

Harvey, Tiffany. Together. The ultimate betrayal.

“But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Because she wasn’t you.”

He kept repeating it, trying to speak his remorse into your heart directly. You hated how much it affected you. Hated how your chest ached, how your mind burned with the thought of what could have been. You shouldn’t care. But you did. And Harvey knew it.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice. “You used her, just like she used you. You wanted to spy on Bruce and I wouldn't do it.”

Harvey let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His eyes met yours. Unflinching. “I did.”

There was no shame in his voice. Just cold, simple truth. No regret anymore. He didn't regret using her, he regretted hurting you.

“But it wasn’t revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured, his Gotham accent slipping in the angrier he got. “It was survival. She had me under her little spell at first; when that stopped working, her little dream team made sure I never stepped outta line. Never came crawling back to you, never told anyone the truth. But I'm done with them now.”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Harvey stepped closer.

“Every time I kissed her, every time I played along, I was thinking of you.” His voice dipped, lower, darker. More desperate. “Every time I called her by her name, I wanted to say yours.”

Your breathing came too fast. This wasn’t fair. Harvey was not supposed to be able to do this to you. Not anymore. He was supposed to be dead to you. He had killed himself in your mind the day he let himself be used, the day he betrayed you.

And yet—

Yet.

You couldn’t move.

Because deep down, a part of you knew—you had thought of him, too. When you weren't with Slade, Harvey consumed your thoughts.

Your stomach twisted as he stepped closer again. “You’re smart, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You always were. Choose carefully.”

You swallowed hard. This wasn't about your family anymore. This was about him and Slade.

“You don’t have to go back to them.” He repeated himself again trying to convince you. His words settled in your bones, heavy, unshakable.

You clenched your jaw again. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Harvey’s eyes flickered, something dark and pleased curling at the edges. And then, voice low, almost dangerous, “Then why are you still with him?”

Your breath hitched. Slade. Your body went rigid.

Harvey took another step closer. Your noses almost touched and you nearly threw yourself into his arms.

“You think he's better than me?”

Your chest tightened. Doubt crept in. You had been so careful. So quiet. Hadn’t you? Harvey saw it. And he smiled.

A slow, knowing smirk. “He’s not going to let you go, he won't give you a choice. I don't blame the man, if I hadn't fucked everything up; I wouldn't let you go either.”

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you all at once, suffocating, crushing. You hadn’t been careful. You had been playing into Slade’s hands all along.

Because Slade always knew. And if he hadn’t stopped you?

That meant he was letting you dig your own grave. A shiver ran through you.

The moment Harvey’s voice dipped, the second his fingers ghosted over your wrist like a lover’s touch—you should have walked away. But you didn’t. Because part of you needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him tell you what you already knew.

That he still wanted you. That he never stopped. That you were never meant to be replaced. And it felt amazing to hear the regret in his voice and see the pure longing in his eyes.

The wind curled between you, cold and biting, but Harvey’s presence was stiflingly warm. He was watching you the way he always had; like you belonged to him, like the months between you hadn’t changed a thing. And for the first time all night, you let yourself look at him.

Really look at him.

The scars on the left side of his face had deepened, his two-toned gaze more piercing than before. The weight he carried in his shoulders was heavier, more defined. He was still Harvey, but he wasn’t just Harvey anymore. He had become something darker, something rough around the edges, something broken in a way that made you feel like a piece of you had broken along with him.

You swallowed. “I have to go.” Before you did something you couldn't take back.

Harvey exhaled, slow and deliberate. He nodded, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. But he wasn’t letting you go, either.

“You’re going back to him.” It wasn’t a question. A statement, like he knew it was coming

Your pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that and you know it.” You still felt the need to defend yourself, even though you knew you didn't owe him an explanation.

You still loved him, that much was clear.

Harvey let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Sure it isn’t.”

You took a step back. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t say anything to stop you, but his presence curled around you like a shadow, wrapping itself around your spine, keeping you anchored in place. And then his voice dropped. Low. Certain.

“I’m letting you walk away. But I'm not letting you go. Not when we still love each other.”

Your throat tightened. He wasn’t chasing you. Not yet. But you felt it. The promise in his voice. The inevitability. You didn’t respond.

You didn't deny that you still loved him, it was like a child insisting they didn't eat cookies when they have crumbs all over them.

You just turned and forced yourself to walk away.

The apartment was silent when you returned. Slade was waiting, seated in his chair, drink in hand, legs spread, glaring at the walls. He didn’t turn when you entered. Didn’t move when you stepped further inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You slipped off your shoes, moving slowly, watching him, waiting. Nothing. No reaction. Just that unshakable stillness. The kind that had always been more dangerous than his anger.

You took a steadying breath. If you didn't speak first, he wouldn't speak at all. “Slade—”

“I knew you’d come back.”

His voice cut through the room, sharp and even. Your fingers curled at your sides. “Of course I came back.”

Now, he looked at you. Finally. And when he did, it felt like a blow. That single eye, cold and assessing, swept over you, taking in every detail, every movement, every breath you tried to keep steady. Then, his lips curved. Slow. Controlled.

“Did he tell you what you wanted to hear? Make you want to run into his loving arms again?”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t let it show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Slade exhaled through his nose, the faintest huff of amusement. “Don’t insult me.”

Your jaw tightened. Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to snap, or if he was waiting for you to confess. Then, finally—Slade leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“Tell me something,” he said lowly.

You didn’t move. “What?”

Slade tilted his head, watching you like he was already playing out the end of this game. “Did you hesitate?”

The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. You could lie. You could tell him what he wanted to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Slade always knew. And that was the worst part.

Slade was quiet for too long. Then—he sighed. Tired. Expectant. And that was worse than anger. You hated when he treated you like this, so indifferent. You liked his anger better, at least then you could get a reaction out of him.

“Take off your coat,” he said. You hesitated. Slade’s expression didn’t shift. “Now.”

Slowly, carefully, you did as he asked, slipping the fabric from your shoulders, letting it drop onto the chair beside you. Slade’s eye flickered toward it. Then, back to you.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe he was looking for something Harvey left behind. Something you didn’t even realize you had carried home with you.

Then, after a long pause—Slade smirked. And it wasn’t kind like the ones you've grown accustomed to.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You stiffened. “Realize what?”

Slade leaned back again, completely relaxed. Like he had already won. “You'll know soon.”

Your breath caught. Where was he going with this? You hated when he spoke like some ancient being and he knew that. He was gonna be insufferable these next few days; he always is when you do something he doesn't like.

“Doesn’t matter where you go,” he continued, his voice so damn certain. His smirk widened, mocking. “You’ll always come back to me.”

Your chest tightened. You hated him. Because he was right. He knew you hated it, too.

You lay awake that night. Not because you couldn’t sleep. Not because Slade was in the other room, making you sleep alone for the first time in months, still awake, waiting, watching, knowing.

But because you couldn’t shake the way Harvey had looked at you before you left. Not angry. Not resentful. Just patient and remorseful. Like he already knew something you didn't.

Slade never brought it up again. Not directly. You weren’t sure if that was worse. You weren't sure if you wanted him to scream at you and demand you never see Harvey Dent again. You would rather anger than the silent treatment.

He didn’t demand answers. He didn’t press the issue. He simply carried on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t watched you walk through the door smelling like another man’s presence.

That should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. Because Slade didn’t let things go. He let them fester.

It was in the way he touched you now, more deliberate, more possessive. The way his hands lingered a little too long on your waist when he passed you in the kitchen, the way his fingers grazed your wrist, as if reminding you that you were still there, still his.

It was in the way he watched you. He had always been observant, but now it was different. Sharper. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was reading you.

Every twitch of your fingers. Every slight shift in your breathing. Every time you looked over your shoulder without realizing it. You had brought something back from that rooftop, and Slade knew it.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, but neither of you were asleep. Your back pressed into the cool sheets, heartbeat steady but too aware of the man beside you. It'd been three days since Harvey and Slade was finally sleeping next to you again, but you knew he wasn't truly letting things go.

Slade’s fingers traced slow circles against your wrist, his grip loose but present. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured.

You exhaled, shifting slightly beneath his hold. “And you have?”

A quiet chuckle. “I sleep when I need to.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the bedroom. “And when do you need to?” You missed teasing him.

Slade’s smirk was lazy, knowing. “Whenever you’re not around to keep me entertained.”

You rolled your eyes, but he didn’t let you pull away. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he was there.

“You think too much,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Keeps you restless.”

“Maybe I like thinking,” you shot back booping his nose. You lived to annoy him, to push his buttons in a way only you could get away with.

Slade hummed, shifting to prop himself up on his elbow, still watching you. His fingers trailed down your arm, you would've though he was trying to start something if his movements weren't so slow and calculated.

“What are you thinking about now?” He said reeling you into his trap, his eyes hard. You hated when he tried to trap you. Your pulse skipped. Nothing you said would be the right answer.

Slade’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was something in his expression—something darker, something expectant.

“You can say it,” he mused. “Say his name.”

You were tempted to do it, moan Harvey's name just to piss him off, but that was a line even you knew not to cross. You rolled your eyes, "God, just let it go Slade. It wasn't important."

Why couldn't he just let this go? Slade smirked, mocking. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t look away. Because he knew. He always knew. Nothing goes over Slade Wilson's head.

The next morning, you woke up to a message. Not a text. Not a voicemail. A gift.

The small wooden box sat on the kitchen counter, neat, precise. Like it had been waiting for you. Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You hadn’t even felt him. But Harvey had been here. You swallowed, fingers brushing over the lid before carefully lifting it open.

Inside was a single playing card.

The Two of Hearts.

And beneath it—folded carefully, as if it was meant to be unwrapped like some kind of sentimental treasure—was the same scarf he had left before.

Except this time, there was something else. Perfume. Your perfume. It smelled like you and him. Like Harvey had held onto it. Like he had kept it close. Your stomach twisted.

Harvey had been here. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the box, breath coming a little too sharp, too shallow. The walls of the apartment felt smaller. You didn’t hear Slade approach, but you felt him before he spoke.

His voice was smooth, dangerous. “Something I should know about?”

You forced yourself to breathe. “No.”

Slade leaned against the counter, eyeing the box like he already knew exactly who it was from. And then—he laughed. A quiet, amused sound, as if this was a game he had already won. “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” he said, in the same tone some used when regretting not buying a book before it sold out.

Your stomach dropped. Slade tilted his head, eye still locked on you. “But you wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

You said nothing.

Slade smirked, shaking his head. “Soft spot for old flames.” He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist. “That’s your problem.”

You clenched your jaw, jerking your arm away. “And what’s yours?”

Slade’s gaze darkened. “I don’t have problems.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. Always with the tough guy persona, honestly it must be tiring always acting untouchable. “Right. Sorry, I forgot. Because you don’t feel anything.”

Slade didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, unreadable. His hand reached for your jaw, firm, demanding. His thumb traced your cheek, slow, deliberate. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“I feel plenty.” You swallowed. Slade smirked. “You just don’t like what I feel.”

You stepped back before you could do something stupid. Something that would make you forget about the box on the counter, the scent of Harvey still lingering in the air. Something that would make you forget that you weren’t sure who you were more afraid of losing.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Harvey was right. They were going to find out the full truth soon. And when they did, they would come for you.

Now, a week after your meeting with him, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Message after message, call after call, each one from Tim Drake-Wayne. All asking you questions about Tiffany, about yourself. About where you were.

Your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled through the texts, hands shaking, stomach twisting itself into knots so tight you thought you might be sick. Of course Tim was the first to figure out something was wrong. He was about five years too late though.

Tim: We need to talk. Please answer. I have questions. About Tiffany..

You could barely breathe. He wanted to investigate, to look deep into Tiffany. Now?

Now, after years of pushing you aside, after ignoring every cry for help, now he wanted to take your warnings seriously.

Your eyes burned, fingers tightening around the phone, your mind screaming at you to respond, to finally say all the things you’d held in your chest for too long.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned the phone off. You shoved it under the pillow, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to push away the tears, trying to ignore the way your chest ached with something ugly and desperate.

The moment you walked out of the bedroom, you knew he had seen.

Slade was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze heavy with something unreadable. The phone was still buzzing beneath the pillow in the other room, and somehow, you knew he had heard it.

He had been waiting for this. You swallowed, standing stiffly near the doorway, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Slade didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.

“Took him long enough,” he mused, his voice casual, controlled.

You rolled your eyes. He's been bitchy ever since the whole Harvey thing.

Slade’s eye flickered to your hands, still clenched at your sides. “And let me guess—you ignored him.”

You hated how easily he could see through you. You glared at him, jaw tight. “None of your business.”

Slade chuckled, shaking his head, pushing off the counter and closing the distance between you in slow, measured steps.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was lower now, smoother, curling around your spine like a threat disguised as affection. “Everything about you is my business.”

You tensed. Slade reached up, tracing a gloved finger along your cheek, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“He’ll keep calling,” he murmured. “He’ll keep begging. He'll figure it out and tell the rest of the little squad and they'll all come running back. Just like your dear old Dent. ” His lips curled into something mocking. “That’s what they do, isn’t it? Make mistakes because they know you'll forgive them?"

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. Not to hurt you, just enough to remind you who was in control.

His thumb brushed over your lips, slow, deliberate. “What are you gonna do?”

Your breath hitched. Slade leaned in slightly, voice dropping even lower. Dangerous. “Do you want Tim to tell the others? Want your family back? Want him back? Even after he fucked your sister while you were lying sick in your bed?”

Your throat tightened. He was toying with you. Mocking you, trying to hurt you. Making you say it. And you didn’t want to say it. Because you didn’t know. Your family had been your world.For so long, all you wanted was to be seen.

To be loved.

To be something more than just a ghost standing in the background, watching them fawn over someone who had stolen everything from you. And Harvey gave that to you, before he betrayed you.

And now, he was sorry. Soon, they would all know the truth and be sorry.

The emotions clawed at your throat.

You wanted to scream at Tim. Tell him it was too late. Tell them that he could never fix this. No amount of investigating and apologies could make up for years of neglect.

But another part of you, the part that still ached for their love, the part that still wanted them to prove you wrong,

That part whispered, “What if?” What if when they found out the truth, they would love you? What if this time, they actually stayed?

What if this was your chance to finally have the family you always wanted?

The war inside your head made you dizzy. And Slade knew it. He was still holding you, still keeping you rooted to him, while your world spun out of control. After a long, suffocating silence, Slade finally sighed. “You’re a mess.”

You glared at him, pushing away from his grip. “Fuck you.”

Slade chuckled, unfazed. “You do it almost every night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're a child, you know that?"

You turned away, grabbing a glass from the counter, hands still shaking slightly as you filled it with water. You weren’t thirsty, but you needed something—anything—to keep yourself grounded.

Slade leaned against the counter again, watching you with amusement, but something deeper lurked beneath it. Then, in a voice so casual it almost didn’t register, “I’ll make him stop. I'll make them both stop.”

The glass almost slipped from your fingers. You turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Slade shrugged, like it was nothing. “You don’t want to deal with them. You don’t want to make a decision. So I’ll make it for you.”

Your breath caught. Slade never dealt with things peacefully, he got rid of problems permanately. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His smirk deepened. “And I will.”

Your stomach twisted. Because the worst part was; you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified. Because Slade was right. You didn’t want to make a choice. You wanted someone to do it for you.

And Slade was more than happy to take that burden.

The first thing you noticed the next morning was the silence. No more buzzing. No more messages lighting up your screen. Slade had done it.

He hadn’t waited for you to argue. Hadn’t given you the choice. By the time you checked your phone, every number had been blocked. Every contact erased like they had never existed at all.

And maybe that’s what Slade wanted.

For them to be nothing but ghosts in your past. A clean break. A fresh start. So why did it feel like your chest was splitting open?

You had spent years craving their attention. Years begging for even a scrap of love. And now? Now you had the chance to get it. And you ignored it. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need them. That you had spent too long chasing something that was never meant to be yours.

And yet, as you stood in the quiet of the apartment, phone gripped too tight in your hands, you ached. Because you had wanted them to fight for you.

Slade had left that morning, his usual teasing smirk in place, but there had been something off.

Maybe it was the fact that his mission was dragging out longer than expected.

Maybe it was the way his fingers had lingered under your chin before he left, thumb brushing over your jaw like he was making sure you were still his.

Or maybe it was the way he had muttered, “Be good while I’m gone, sweetheart.” as you kissed him goodbye.

Like he already knew you wouldn’t be. Like he already knew something was coming. The apartment felt too big without him. His absence wasn’t something you should have noticed.

But you did.

It was in the empty space beside you when you sat on the couch. The extra portion of dinner you made out of habit. The lack of footsteps behind you. The missing weight of his presence pressing against your world, keeping you safe.

It was the first time in months you had been truly alone. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You took a nice, long, hot, shower, trying to dull the ache below your hips. You and Slade had sex last night, but somehow you were already wanting more. It was like your body could sense his absense.

You stood under the hot water, letting the steam curl around your skin, letting the heat scald away the thoughts clawing at your mind.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe it was easier to just let go.

There was a sound. Soft. Distant. A creak where there shouldn’t be one. You wouldn't have heard it, wouldn't have sensed the body heat if you didn't have your powers. Your heart stopped. You turned off the water immediately, listening.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just—

Another creak. Closer this time. You swallowed, pulse hammering, every nerve in your body screaming at you that something was wrong. Slade was gone.

No one should be here. But you weren’t alone.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp skin, fangs reader and a knife in your hand, you felt him.

The shift in the air. The weight of someone watching. And then, his voice.

“Gotta admit,” Harvey mused, voice smooth, mocking, as if he had any right to be angry “didn’t think you’d be the type to shack up with a guy like him.”

Your stomach dropped. You turned sharply, eyes darting across the room, breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

Sitting on your bed. On Slade’s bed.

Harvey was leaning back against the headboard, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t the intruder in this equation.

Harvey sat there like he hadn’t broken in, hadn’t shattered what little peace you had left. The moment you stepped out of the shower, still dripping, wrapped only in a towel, you knew, he was waiting for you.

Your fingers clenched around the towel’s edge, jaw tight, pulse pounding.

"You’ve got some fucking nerve," you muttered, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between you and him.

Harvey leaned back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over the headboard, watching you with something smug, something knowing.

"Had to see you," he said simply. Like it was normal. Like it was nothing.

Your stomach twisted. It was never nothing with Harvey.

"And let me guess," you bit back. "You just let yourself in."

His smirk widened. "Door was unlocked, it’s not breaking and entering if you used to live together."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Bullshit. That’s exactly what it is, Dent. We don't like together anymore. Never did officially either."

Harvey didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze slid lower. Over the damp strands of your hair. Over your throat. Your collarbone. Your bare legs.

You knew that look. It made something ugly stir inside you.

He looked at you, gaze slow, deliberate, taking in every inch of you. The damp strands of hair clinging to your skin. The way the towel barely covered enough to keep you decent.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t stop on my account. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

Your fingers clenched around the towel, pulse thundering. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harvey let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Relax, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by. Say hello. You wouldn’t answer your phone, so I figured—” he spread his arms in mock innocence, “—why not pay a visit?”

You hated how calm he was. How easy he made it look. Like he hadn’t just broken into your home. Like he hadn't broken your heart. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, heart hammering against your ribs. Slade was gone. Gone.

No one was coming. But you could handle yourself. And Harvey knew it. His eyes flickered down your body again, this time slow, calculating. Looking at all the marks and love bites Slade had left the night before. “You always did have a thing for older men,” he mused.

Your jaw clenched. Low blow.

Harvey smirked. “What’s the matter? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Thought you could just run off and play house with Gotham’s favorite mercenary and I’d let it slide?” He tsked, almost disappointed. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

You glared at him. Where did he get the audacity? “You don’t own me. Especially not now. Especially not after what you did. Your apology didn't change anything. You've got no right to be here.”

Harvey’s expression darkened, but only for a second. Then he grinned. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was thinking about him.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what he was doing. He wanted you off balance. He wanted you to doubt. It was working. Because a part of you—a part you hated—was already wondering what Slade would do when he found out. Because he would find out. How jealous would he be? Would he finally drop the whole nonchalant act, ask you to be official?

Harvey’s smirk widened. “You think he’s coming back soon? You waiting for him? That's real cute princess.”

Your throat tightened. “He'll be back tomorrow.”

Harvey shrugged, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How missions can just drag out longer than expected?” His grin turned sharp. Cruel. “Would be a real shame if something happened to keep him… occupied.”

Your blood froze. Harvey watched you, waiting for the realization to sink in. He knew. He knew Slade wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Your fingers curled into fists and suddenly you were on top of him, fangs bared, “What did you do?”

Harvey simply leaned back, enjoying himself and the view of your almost naked body on top of him. He turned his neck, as if trying to give you more access to him.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Now, now. Don’t go blaming me. I didn’t lift a finger.” His grin widened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know who did.”

Your breath was coming too fast, too shallow, panic creeping up your spine. Slade was gone. Harvey was here. You were trapped. And Harvey knew it. Your pulse pounded. Slade was gone. Harvey was here.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pinning him down harder against the mattress, your fangs bared, breath coming in sharp, furious exhales.

"What did you do?" you hissed again, voice low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained rage.

Harvey smirked up at you, completely unbothered. His eyes gleamed with that same smug amusement, like he was playing with his food.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, voice infuriatingly smooth, teasing. "No need to get all worked up."

You pressed your thighs against his sides, pinning him harder. "Answer me, Harvey."

He let out a slow breath, his smirk twitching, dark amusement flickering across his features. "You always were so determined. I love that about you."

Your fingers tightened, nearly scratching his back, sharp acrylics pressing into his skin through the fabric of his white button down. You didn't want to hurt him, not badly at least.

"Tell me why Slade’s mission is taking so long," you demanded, your weight pressing down on him, your legs gripping him tighter.

Harvey’s hands moved then; sliding slowly up your thighs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You really think I’m gonna make this easy for you?" he murmured, voice dropping to something lower, something thicker with something he wasn’t bothering to hide.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping down your spine, twisting through your limbs. He knew. He felt it.

His smirk widened, his hips shifting beneath you just slightly.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Throbbing. Pressing against the thin fabric of his slacks, against the barely-there barrier of your towel. You nearly moaned, stop being a slut, you tried to tell yourself.

You froze, just for a second. And Harvey noticed.

You were straddling him, baring your venomous fangs. You could kill him. And he was hard. You could feel it, it was impossible not to, thick, twitching against your inner thigh, pressed right against you.

Your powers didn’t help. They never fucking did. The second you got close enough to feel body heat, it was over. It was a constant hum under your skin, that ache, that need, clawing at your sanity. Your towel barely clinging to your damp skin, the heat of his body seeping into yours, you didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

He let out a low, pleased chuckle, his good hand settling on your waist, just barely gripping. "Didn’t know you missed me this much, sweetheart. Thought you were over me?"

Your nails dug into his chest even harder, but he didn’t flinch. He never fucking did. "Tell me where Slade is," you demanded.

Harvey hummed, mocking. "You sure you wanna talk about him right now?" His fingers flexed against your skin, his smirk widening as he shifted slightly beneath you again. "Because from where I’m sitting, you got bigger problems."

Your breath hitched, and you hated it. Hated the way your traitorous body reacted to him. Hated the way he felt so familiar.

His gaze flickered, taking in the flush on your skin, the way your thighs squeezed involuntarily around him. He felt it too. The heat. The tension. The pull that never really disappeared, no matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself that you were done with him.

"You always were greedy," Harvey murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark with something wicked. He was loving this. "You just can’t get enough, can you?"

Suddenly, you were angry at him again. You remembered Tiffany. Your grip tightened around his wrists, holding him down, pressing harder into him, and his smirk twitched, just slightly.

Good. Let him fucking squirm. "You still think you have control here?" you whispered, lowering your head, your breath grazing the sharp line of his jaw.

His breathing faltered. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, his lips curled again, sharp and taunting.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice deep, smug, full of sin. "As long as youre on top of me or under me, I don't give a shit who's in control."

Your entire body tensed. Your nails dragged down his chest, slow, teasing, right over his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, fast, erratic, out of sync with the smug bastard act he was putting on.

He was burning for you. Just as much as you were for him. But you weren’t going to give in.

"You still think you can do whatever you want to me?" you whispered, leaning in, letting your lips hover just over his.

Harvey’s eyes flickered. A muscle in his jaw ticked. And for the first time since he had shown up, his smirk finally fucking dropped.

You grinned. Then you moved your hips and ran your fingers up and down his chest.

Harvey cursed sharply through his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening instantly, fingers digging into your skin like a vice. His dick twitched against you through his slacks, so fucking hard and aching that you could almost feel the pulse of it.

You let out a slow, breathy chuckle. "Guess you do still want me, huh?"

Harvey’s breathing was uneven. "Careful," he rasped, voice lower, darker, more dangerous now. "You’re playing a real stupid game, princess."

"Why?" you taunted, grinded your hips again, watching the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to snap. "Because you can’t handle it? Because you can’t handle me?"

It was fun being in control. Slade never let you do whatever you wanted to him, barely ever in the bedroom. You loved control, especially when it meant having a man at your mercy beneath you.

Harvey’s eyes flashed. Then, he flipped you. Fast. Brutal.

You barely had time to react before you were the one beneath him , your towel barely hanging onto your body, his hand locked around your wrist, pinning you down, his body hovering over yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His breathing was hard, uneven, tense.

"You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?" he murmured, so close now.

Your chest heaved. You got too cocky, too confident, and now you were paying the price, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Harvey laughed softly, mocking, brushing his nose against yours. "Liar."

You swallowed, pulse hammering.

"You love this," he said, voice like gravel against your skin. "The attention. The desperation and groveling. You love seeing me beg. The way you talk like you want to kill me, and the next second," his lips ghosted your cheek, his cock pressing hard against your thigh, "you’re grinding against me like a fucking addict."

Your breath hitched. His grip tightened.

"He ever let you get on top?" he murmured, lips just barely grazing yours.

Your stomach twisted. "Don't."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did you think about me when he had you at first? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was my hands on you even after I broke your heart? Should I tell him that?"

Your nails dug into his shoulder, your body betraying you, the heat between your legs only getting worse, stronger, overwhelming, unbearable.

"You wish," you rasped, but it sounded too breathless, too shaky.

Harvey smirked. He knew. "Say you don’t miss me," he challenged.

You clenched your jaw, turning your head away, trying to ignore the way your body burned beneath his.

"Say it," he demanded.

You tried to, but the words wouldn't come out.

Harvey hummed. Then, his fingers slid lower, trailing along your bare thigh, teasing the hem of the towel.

"Yeah," he mused, smug and cruel. "That’s what I thought."

His fingers flexed against your thighs, his grip tightening.

"Little desperate, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something smug, something rough.

You scoffed, but your heart was hammering, your body betraying you. "If I was desperate," you whispered, leaning forward until your lips were just barely brushing against his, taunting, teasing. "You’d already be inside me."

Harvey let out a low groan. He flipped you back around, giving you full control. Letting you be on top. You lost yourself for a moment, lost the plot. You melted into him and began kissing his neck slowly and unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly moved against him. But then, you saw the picture frame you hung of you and Slade, right behind Harvey.

Slade made you take down all the photos whenever he went away on a mission, in case someone broke in and saw them, and decided to hurt you to get back at him. It was the only one you refused to remove.

It was of you and him, two months ago. Slade had a mission in Paris and he let you tag along, after you were done, you made him go to an ice cream shop. Some sweet old man asked if you wanted a picture together, Slade wasn't smiling, barely even smirking, but you could see the happiness in his eyes as he had his arms around your waist, looking down at you.

You felt nauseous, all the arousal you felt was gone. You were a whore. How could you do this to Slade? You stopped moving as your eyes watered, what if Harvey had done something to him?

Harvey's hands snapped up, gripping your hips, grinding you down onto him. He wasn't gonna let you stop now.

"Fuck, baby, I forgot how good you are at this. Don't stop, please." he exhaled, almost begging, his jaw tightening, his cock pulsing against you.

You bit your lip, trying to fight the heat clawing through your body, the way your nerves lit up at the sheer pressure of him beneath you. It felt so good. You were horny again. But you could use this to your advantage, Harvey wanted you even more that you wanted him.

"Tell me," you whispered, rolling your hips just slightly, torturing him. "Tell me what you mean when you say Slade's occupied.."

Harvey’s smirk curled, his hands dragging you down harder, making you feel every inch of him. " What’s it worth to you?"

Your breath hitched. Harvey’s fingers trailed up your back, slow, possessive, teasing. "You wanna make sure your merc comes back in one piece?"

You swallowed hard, your body thrumming with frustration, anger, something else. All control you had was slipping, your powers were making you horny but they weren't working. Harvey wasn't listening to what you told him to do.

"Make me happy, sweetheart. If I’m happy," his smirk deepened, his voice dripping with dark amusement. " the bastard stays alive."

Your chest tightened, heat roaring up your spine, burning you from the inside out. You hated him. You wanted him. You needed to keep Slade alive. Harvey’s hands slid lower, his thumbs tracing slow, burning circles into your skin.

"Make a decision, pretty girl, his flight leaves soon." he murmured, his dick twitched against you, heavy with need. God, how could he be horny while threatening your teacher/ mentor /situationship's life?

You couldn’t lose Slade.

So you kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

Harvey groaned against your lips, his hands flying up to grip your waist, dragging you down harder against him, practically trying to merge your bodies together.

"That’s my girl," he muttered, his voice rough, victorious, possessive.

Your stomach burned with shame, with need, with something twisted and terrible. You hated him. You loved him.

You needed Slade to live.

But you couldn't do this to Slade, couldn't betray him on the bed you shared every night. He would be livid, what would he do in this situation? Probably kill Harvey. But you weren't Slade, you weren't as brave or as cruel as him.

So you did what you do best: You ran.

You jumped off of Harvey, punching him in the nose, still only in your towel that somehow stayed on, and shut the bedroom door in his face. You had powers, you were faster than Harvey, maybe even stronger than him. You made it to the front door in seconds, but your heart dropped as you saw the three new deadbolts.

Fucking Slade. You debated letting him die at that point.

Suddenly, you felt him behind you, grabbing you and pinning you against the door.

“Goddamn,” He laughed, amused, mocking, “you really thought that would work?”

You snarled, struggling harder, but he didn’t budge. His grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Harvey.”

His breath hitched at the way you said his name. Not Dent. Not Two-Face. Not some alias meant to keep distance. Just Harvey.

And it made something in his chest clench. His fingers flexed, his other hand dragging up your spine in a slow, deliberate motion, making you shudder.

“You always run, don’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—but there was something dangerous beneath it. “Always running from someone.”

His grip tightened on your wrists, pressing them into the wall, “From them. From me. From yourself.”

You hated how well he knew you. You hated that he was right. You hated how he got you into bed willingly even as the guilt ate you up. You hated how good he made you feel, how you couldn't bring yourself to say no. If you did, he would stop, and you didn't want that.

"Don't act like you don't want me now. You were all over me not even a minute ago." He sneered, as he ripped off your towel like it offended him.

You didn't know how many times you came, or how long you went for. You felt so good, but somehow you've never felt worse. Even as Harvey made you scream his name, you thought of how Slade would react.

You felt even worse as the night wore on, and instead of rough sex, you began to make love. Harvey buried his face in your neck as he muttered apologies, still buried inside you, and swore he would make it up to you.

You began to cry, it felt so good. But it was so wrong, so disgusting.

And you knew you never felt true regret until you woke up the next morning in Harvey Dent's arms, naked on the bed you slept on with Slade Wilson.

WHAT YALL THINK?? 1-10?? ALSO COMMENT DOWN BELOW TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY

[f-misc]

(captain america: brave new world spoilers)

sambucky scene transcript!

----

On Sam, looking at Torres in the hospital, hearing footsteps come up behind him.

Sam: "It's a private room. Go away."

Bucky comes into view beside Sam.

Bucky: "Missed you too."

They look at each other. Bucky a soft smile. Sam looks away, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

Sam: "I hate to admit it...I'm glad you're here."

Sam looks back to Bucky and they both go in for a hug, Bucky closing his eyes in it. They part, stood side-by-side again.

Bucky: "You looked good out there on that 6 o'clock."

Sam shakes his head a bashful smile. Then sombre again.

Bucky: "Then I saw this."

Sam: "Doctors had to restart his heart. They don't know if..."

Sam closes his eyes.

Bucky: "This isn't your fault."

Sam: "It makes me think of Steve. How many alien invasions did he stop, again?"

Bucky: "Two."

Sam: "Two. Wow. What made me think I could follow that. I should have took the serum. Like Steve. Like you."

Bucky looking at Sam.

Bucky: "Why?"

Sam: "Because this is all starting to seem much bigger than me."

Sam turns to fully face Bucky.

Sam: "Ross, he asked me to restart the Avengers, Buck. But Joaquin's in here. Isaiah's in prison. And Sterns...I had him. I had Sterns. Right in my hands. And he got away. He damn near pushed us to the brink of war, because I wasn't—"

Sam emotionally cuts himself off.

Bucky: "Say what you need to say."

Sam looks down, then back to Bucky.

Sam: "Steve made a mistake."

Bucky: "No he didn't. He gave you that shield, not because you're the strongest, but because you're you. You think if you had that serum, you'd be able to protect all the people you care about. Steve had it, and he couldn't. You're a human being and you're doing your best. Steve gave people something to believe in, but you...you give them something to aspire to."

Sam squints at Bucky.

Sam: "Did your speech writers help you with that?"

Bucky: "They did, yeah, the ending, a little bit. Did you like it? Was it—?"

Sam: "No no, it was good. Solid...B plus."

Bucky: "Emotional."

Sam: "Very. I felt it."

Bucky: "But just enough."

Sam: "Yeah."

Bucky: "Listen, I've gotta...catch a plane. I have a campaign fundraiser. It's so stupid."

They look over Torres, smiling. Bucky looks at Sam.

Bucky: "He's gonna be all right, man."

Sam looks at Bucky, shakes Bucky's hand.

Sam: "Thanks, Buck."

Bucky: "I love you, buddy."

Bucky claps Sam's arm and leaves; Sam nods, looking after him.

[lych33dragoncookie]

Ooooohhh how glad I am he was characterized well this update. No, he doesn't hate himself. No, he doesn't feel any guilt for his own actions, past or present. No, he's really not all that sad, all things considered. Loneliness and sadness are, really, not exactly synonymous. Loneliness can very well manifest in other ways; as, in the end, it is an emptiness. A lack of something. How each person individually handles it is where it really varies. Shadow Milk Cookie, at his core, is angry. He's not sad, he doesn't feel guilt, remorse, regret, nothing of that sort. He's too caught up in his own little tangled web of contrivances and excuses he uses to bury any and all more rational feelings under childish sadistic urges! In his eyes, nothing that happens to him is fair, if he doesn't get his way, if he doesn't get exactly what he wants, it's not fair, he feels like he SHOULD have gotten what he wanted, like he should ALWAYS get exactly what he wants, and the only way he ever deals with any burden that MAY be on his mind, however briefly, is to lash out. Thrash, inflict pain, break shit, throw a little goddamn tantrum. He's already assumed, for so long, that he knows better, he SHOULD get what he wants, he's ALWAYS in the right, and if he can't get what he wants, he WILL take it by force.

He chooses to be this way, he SO desperately wants to be in control, he SO desperately wants a world that is strictly his', and that's just kind of inevitably a lonely road, since to him, no one will ever be important as he is to himself. And, for a moment there, he got his childish needs fulfilled; someone just like him, someone who can just as well be important, and do everything he wants them to do. Essentially; he just wants another of himself. He doesn't WANT actual love, any actual meaningful relationships, he just wants someone JUST like him. Never have his views or beliefs contested, never have to change. That won't fix the loneliness, but he doesn't care. He doesn't WANT it to be fixed. He just wants to have all his own petty little urges met.

He is awful. He is positively, extremely, irredeemably awful. But he is human. And that alone, the fact that there are feelings there that will inevitably rise up for anyone in his position, no matter how absolutely irrevocably and horribly evil, is enough for someone like Pure Vanilla to hold on to hope. Somewhat misguided hope, yes, but hope nonetheless; the very thing that makes every facet of his being. They may remain opposites and apart for all of time. After all, both of them choose to be opposites, both knowing what they could be if they didn't choose to. They both wish they weren't this way, that they could be on the same page, but they very well may never be. And that's both their choices to make.

God this update was fucking good.

[luulapants]

I've been trying to come up with a moral or a headline to wrap around this story, but I just gotta say it.

One of my cousins fell in with a bad crowd in his 30s. Violent, racist, sexist shitbags that call themselves a club but operate like a cult with fucked up initiation rituals and constant monitoring to make sure everyone is toeing the ideological line. He did and said a lot of fucked up stuff, because that's required by groups like this, because it's how they make sure you get exiled by everyone else in your life.

But his dad, my uncle, he was a stubborn old bastard who had seen some shit, and he wasn't going to lose his son. He decided to get him out, no matter how long it took. He told his son that he didn't approve of his actions or beliefs, but he never tried to argue, never bought into the debate. He made sure my cousin knew he was loved and would have help to get out when he was ready. Sure enough, my cousin got himself in legal trouble, called his dad, and said, "Get me out."

My uncle's number one requirement was therapy. He found someone who specialized in cult survivors, and he drove his adult son to every session. They did family counseling. He helped him make the life changes he needed to stay away. My uncle was fully committed to getting his son back with love and attention and patience and without an ounce of judgment.

The first family gathering my cousin came to after years on the outs, he would start to say something fucked about vaccines or the government, then something amazing would happen: he'd stop himself. He'd say something like, "Sorry, that's just something someone told me, but that doesn't mean it's right." The whole family agreed with each other that we were not to scold or shame him for saying those things. We could correct him if he didn't correct himself, but we had to do it gently and with love.

My uncle died, and my cousin backslid pretty hard. He had a lot of other bad shit going on in his life, and he'd lost his main pillar of support. He felt alone. We found out at the funeral that he was back in his gang, and the family knew what my uncle would want us to do. We showered him in love and we made him feel less alone. At one point, someone said, "I'm so happy you're here," and he burst into tears.

Me and this cousin were never close before. He's a lot older than me - he was friends with my brother (who died), not me. I didn't even have his number until the funeral, but now we're texting regularly. He left the gang again. He's back in therapy. He's ready to do the hard work. Every conversation ends with 'I love you.'

I guess - you can cut off everyone in your life who falls into hateful ideology, that's a choice you can make. It doesn't reduce the number of extremists in the world, though. It also doesn't feel anywhere near as good as helping to save them.

[earlysunshines]

strawberry-flavored kisses

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: it's valentines day so you and your amazing beautiful awesome lovely girlfriend bake cookies for your friends and loved ones (while also sharing sweet kisses in between)

warnings: noneeee pure fluff lolz ; established relationship ; they're so in love it PAINS me; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: happy valentines day!! (same y/n and dani from sunshine girl but also you don't have to read it first LOL it doesn't rly matter k bye enjoy!)

working on valentines day–especially as a barista—is like willingly walking through the gates of hell. the sheer number of couples waltzing in with their fingers intertwined, muttering sweet nothings while ordering the cherry blossom latte special is enough to send any single person in a spiral. 

unfortunately for your coworker soobin, today that barista is him.

he’s been stuck taking orders during the afternoon rush, forcing a polite smile each time a customer leans over to press kisses to their partners temple, hand, cheek, or even lips (which earns the most noticeable reaction from the guy). it happens more times than you can count on both hands, and each occurrence earns a subtle, annoyed scrunch of his nose.

you’re more than grateful that you work with your girlfriend, danielle, because if you didn’t—you’d probably be on the floor dying from heartache one hour in.

you and danielle share a knowing glance each time since you’re stuck together making all the drinks and serving the pastries in the display, both of you stifling laughter with each look. danielle is much sweeter than you are, so she tries to be subtle about her amusement. you, on the other hand, are not as merciful, watching soobin’s growing misery with shameless amusement.

soobin slides down the last receipt after the line of four couples is tended to, giving you a glare. “you guys are evil and i hate you both so much.” he groans before reaching over to grab a piece of strawberry tiramisu for another order. 

“it’s not my fault love is in the air~” you tease as you tamp down grinded beans, nudging danielle with your elbow.

danielle grins, lingering against you. “yeah, soobin. maybe you should try being happy for them! look at how cute they all are.”

soobin gives you both a deadpan look before calling out an order, and once he’s done, he says through gritted teeth, “easy for you lovebirds to say.”

just as you’re about to respond, another couple walks through the door, giggling as they gasp in awe at the pastries laid out. soobin sighs, putting on his customer service demeanor, and bracing himself while you and danielle bite down your laughter.

“i feel bad for him, y/n.” danielle mutters as she pours steamed milk into a cup, making a beautiful heart design. “he looks like he’s in actual, physical pain…” she adds, looking over to see the couple in front of the register sharing a quick peck before scanning the menu again.

“i think he’s going to pass out, or air out the place.” you murmur, watching as his fingers claw at the counter.

danielle looks around, then leans closer, her breath warm against your ear. you shiver at the proximity, feeling her lips brush against you just barely as she says, “maybe we should order the cherry blossom latte and hold hands while doing it. you know, just to mess with him.”

“i like the way you think.” you chuckle, smiling down at the shot you’ve just pulled. “maybe a kiss too?”

“you just want an excuse to kiss me, don’t you?”

“i don’t need one. after we clock out i’m gonna kiss you soooo much. just wanted to let you know.” you shrug, moving back to the other side of the espresso machine to weigh out coffee grinds. “my valentine’s day special.”

danielle rolls her eyes but smiles at you, biting her lip at your bold remark.

—

all three of you clock out at the same time when the other three evening shift workers clock in. you all head to the back, and soobin dramatically leans against the wall with his heart shaped doughnut that he stole from the display. you and danielle giggle, earning a defeated look from your poor coworker. 

danielle kisses your cheek in front of soobin before you two head out, earning another groan from him. even if he’s in lots of emotional pain, the tips from the dreadful shift were wonderful. you and danielle know how lovely the tips are on holidays, so you two made a plan prior to bake cookies for your friends, which is why you’re immediately on the way to the grocery store to spend your combined cash tips.

(you make sure to let soobin know that you’ll save some of your treats for him, telling him he can come by your place anytime he wants. it’s only fair considering he was on register duty most of the shift.

plus, it’s valentine’s day! it’s only fair to spread the love you two have for your loved ones.)

the grocery store is also filled with a handful of last-minute valentine’s day shoppers, but you and danielle still manage to fill your basket without much waiting or trouble. she sings along to can’t take my eyes off of you—which is playing louder than usual on the speakers—with a packet of chocolates in her hand as the microphone. you laugh, taking a video of her when she skips down the aisle singing happily. 

by the time you get back to your house, the kitchen smells like butter and sugar, and the speakers are playing your carefully curated valentines playlist. can i call you rose? starts playing and you suddenly stop stirring the strawberries you’ve been boiling on low, gasping dramatically, “this is my song.”

danielle giggles at your antics and squeaks when you pull her away from the counter suddenly to serenade her lovingly.

“can i call you rose?” you sing, before twirling her around. “cause you’re sweeeeet like a flowerrrr in bloooom~”

“you’re so cheesy,” danielle giggles, twirling you around right after she says it. “you’re going to burn the jam!”

“soobin’s disease spread to you,” you joke.

“and what disease would that be?”

“being single.”

she rolls her eyes at your response before leaning in to kiss your nose. “i’m immune to that because of you, silly.”

not so long after you sway side to side playfully, you return to your baking duties. she mixes the wet ingredients while you finish up the jam, and you steal loving glances at her when she’s too focused to notice.

both of you are side by side again once you bring out the finished jam, placing it on the counter she’s now rolling the dough on. she hands you golfball-sized piece for you to shape, laughing at how carefully you work with it.

“you’re putting extra effort into these, huh?” danielle teases, watching as you carefully press your thumb into the dough.

“i have to. hyein will insult me like crazy if they’re ugly.”

she laughs, bumping her shoulder against yours. “true. minji and hanni will definitely do the same if they turn out deformed…”

you snicker, then continue to perfect your first cookie out of many. 

you and danielle work silently as the music in the background hums. you glance at danielle, who’s sleeves are rolled up as she pours jam into the small, heart-shaped dent in the cookie. there’s flour on he cheek, and when you reach over to brush it off, she scrunches her nose at the ticklish feeling.

“you have some on your sweater too.” she teases, pointing at the flour on your clothes.

“yeah, yeah.” 

the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, shaping the cookies together and pressing small hearts into the center for jam. you’re focused on the start of your seventh cookie when you catch danielle sneaking a spoonful of jam in the corner of your eye.

“that’s for the cookies!” you scold, nudging her playfully. 

“i had to make sure it’s good!” she argues, licking jam off the corner of her lip. 

“oh, so you don’t trust me? wow…” you huff.

“i just needed to make sure!”

“there’s only a limited amount of—” before you can finish your sentence, danielle suddenly leans in, using her fingers to tilt your chin down before kissing you softly. you get a taste of the jam, it’s almost as sweet as the person kissing you—literally. you hum, feeling your shoulders relax as her fingers sneak to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

she pulls away and grins like she’s just gotten away with something. “there,” she murmurs against your lips. “good, right?”

your brain short-circuits for a moment before you blink at her, your face heating up. “you’re so—”

“amazing? yes, i know. now stop distracting me! we have to finish these cookies…”

“you’re the one who—” she cuts you off again, kissing you a little longer than last time before parting fully. you giggle at her antics, nudging her. “do you like the jam or did you just want to kiss me?” you question with feigned annoyance.

she hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her finger like a cartoon character. “all of the above.” she says while flashing a cheeky smile.

and just like that she gets back to work, leaving you flustered and giddy. you angle yourself weirdly to press a kiss to her cheek, earning a giggle before she tells you to finish up your cookie.

—

once you finish making a little over three dozen cookies, you and danielle are beat.

you both clean up a bit before washing your hands, set a timer, and then danielle flops onto the couch. you follow after, sitting next to her and leaning your head against hers. she shifts and puts her arm around you, pinching your cheek with two fingers.

“tired?” she asks.

“yes…” you respond. “but not too tired to kiss you…?” you add, turning your head to stare at her lips.

she leans closer, pecking your lips quickly before responding, “wow, cupid must’ve hit bullseye on your heart.”

“now look who’s so cheesy.” you giggle, nose brushing against hers. 

“yes because i love you, my valentine.”

“i love you too.” you say before meeting her lips in a tender, loving kiss.

your playful exchange of kisses lasts a few minutes, and you plan to continue until the timer rings. what you didn’t take into consideration was the fact that your younger cousin—hyein—would be back home so soon. 

and so, when you hear a dramatic groan along with the door closing, you two pull apart with flushed faces.

“oh my god, gross…” you hear from the entrance, turning around to see hyein with a half-disgusted and half-amused look on her face. “just because it’s valentines day doesn’t mean you get to be all lovey-dovey on my couch.”

“but we made cookies to share…” you respond defeatedly.

“were you guys being lovey-dovey while making them?” you open your mouth to reply, but pause, and hyein takes that opportunity to groan even louder. “gross…”

“oh shut up, i know you’re gonna devour like five of them in the same minute.”

“hey!” 

danielle giggles at the banter, and then all of you turn your heads toward the oven when the timer rings. 

“i promise the cookies are good. please take some as an apology?” danielle suggests, “there’s strawberry jam on them, and it’s really good.” she adds as she pinches your forearm, reminding you of the strawberry-flavored kisses from earlier. you blush.

hyein laughs, then happily sets her bag down before rushing over to the oven. you give danielle a look and she gives you the same one back before kissing you quick enough so hyein doesn’t notice.

“happy valentines day. i love you.” she says, tugging at your hand. “let’s go eat these cookies… we might need to make another batch if they’re too good.”

you laugh, following her to the kitchen island. “yeah, i was thinking that too. maybe being considerate wasn’t the best idea.” you joke, then kiss her forehead before muttering, “happy valentines day. i love you more.”

you hear hyein groan once more.

“i’ve seen enough couples at school today and i do not need to see another show of pda in the comfort of my own home.” hyein says loudly. “can you take the cookies out now?”

you scoff playfully before finding the oven mitts, smacking hyein on the head with them before you open up the oven to take out the first tray. the scent of the cookies fill the house with a sweet, irresistible aroma.

(but not as sweet or irresistible as your lovely valentine.

nothing can beat her at that.)

[orchidyoonkook]

Diving back into your glory with the second response! Kiki you once again absolutely spoil me. I had the biggest damn smile and the giggles reading through this <3

okay so the first thing that caught my eye was the warning yoon why????? a whole jk and ady warning i can't i don't think i can make it through them fucking 😩😩😩

I'm a big believer in not shying away from writing things that may make people uncomfortable. Especially if I find it to be crucial for the plot, like it is here. It's a very important back and forth, metnal conversation, sen reactions and visual scene and it. is. important!! THEREFORE! you get a warning that it is going to happen to prep yourself! I know folks dont really side pairings a lot of the time when the sex is included with them, but in this case I needed it to show an important contrast so I kept it in.

also! Because I can. :)

(this is also why i will fight to the death for all my horror, yandere, boundary pushing writers. Just because their work makes YOU (general use) uncomfortable or upset, doesnt make them wrong for writing it)

like oc and nel i can handle but jk and ady ugh nooooooo our boy our prince not her please anyone else i can take but not her (i just realized the hate train towards ady is strong damn my loyalty to oc ain't cracking) so i am just going to power through that part and take the angst that comes with it (which I welcome)

I hope you were able to see why it was needed!! (let me know if you wanna!) and I appreciate your dedication so much. I know it's tough when it's obvious to you as the reader why something probably shouldnt happen and ngl that makes it wayyyyyyyy more fun to write.

i did notice that subtle hint at of using someone and the fantasies uhmmmmm ok that must be the upside...

noooooooooooooooooo comment 😈

I honestly wonder why oc isn't mentioning her friendship with jk I honestly love it it's giving me little tingles,

She went over her reasoning in chapter three!! ☺ but that was a while ago so I cant blame you there. In a terribly summary she essentially wants to stay out of the public eye, keep the prince happy because she does emjoy his company, and not cause any drama with friends and family.

That being said! I love it too

i don't think i mentioned it but uhm this slow burn is everything its freaking burning and i think oc is definitely feeling it now that jk is with someone, the little encounter at the cafe and the texting they are just adorable and fluffy my face hurts from the smiles...

This is one of my favourite parts of the story. The banter, the subtle jabs, the build up upon build up, the realising of things and denying them, just all of it. Slow burns are my bread and butter, i can devour them always, and apparently I can somewhat write them too. Which is pretty cool

I just love how they have these opinions about each other's partners like the red flags they each see but they are all about each other's happiness, oc held back with ady but oooh jk isn't 😂 you go boy you tell her gosh i love his character in that scene....

This is another contrast!! It's intentional!! I love that you noticed because I try to be subtle about it. They both have their issues and deal with it in their own ways. OC very much deals with it in a small town girl way, whereas the freaking prince is, shockingly (not) very confrontational. I love that theyre opposites in this way.

oc and nel's scene had me pausing cause i literally went why the heck is she thinking about jk at a time like this and then she said it too it was epic oh oc you give me the giggles😂

AHA i LOVE this. I also love the fact their yours and her lines of thinking lined up. That's actually really nice feedback in a way because it means I was able to write OC in a way that actually mimics real life thought patterns when in certain situations and thats REALLY COOL to hear as the writer from the reader.

Also! Happy to make you giggle! Humor is another thing I struggle with writing wise, so I'm glad I can make you crack a smile now and then with mine.

wait what she didn't finish?!?!??!?!?! THIS IS MY ACTUAL REACTION IT'S LIKE OC IS IN MY HEAD ANSWERING ALL MY QUESTIONS OC BABYGIRL NO DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY GIVE YURI ADVICE ABOUT HER DATE AND NOW THIS 😩😩😩

The best advice often comes from those who have experience with things one way or another.

Ex: I never dated in highschool and yet I was the person ALLLLLLL of my friends came too for their relationship advice.

So, my darling OC was just looking out for her bestie in that regard imo, as someone who has trouble in that aspect of her life.

and we jump straight into jk's horror I can't help it this back to back is amazing, not me shouting no through out his entire scene why jk why, here's oc is having trouble and ady on her fourth whyyyyyyyy he better have oc on his mind

YOU DID SEE HOW THE BACK TO BACK WAS IMPORTANT!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!

oh I'm so happy, literally this was the "let me know if you wanna" from earlier. This is what I was hoping for!!

JK is allowed to make bad decisions every now and then unfortunately as no one is perfect and no one has perfect coping mechanisms the first time they encounter new problems. He's human, and therefore is prone to making poor human mistakes.

as for the orgasm ratio....noooo comment :)

i love how jungkook says nels name in full i can literally picture the disgust and the face he would pull (cue oc eye roll) italics and all..

AHA I love this. This is probably my fave part im sorry becaue I wrote this in intentionally as sort of a joke that turns into a habit and it's just.....so him. And i adore it because its SO. PETTY. and I live for it.

i am writing this as i read so everything scene/sentence i go to write something on my notepad so i hope it all makes sense

it does!!

and let's just say when he shut her up the scene was better to read

As the writer, I'm cackling. As a reader, FACTS.

ugh jungkook likes oc he likes her fuck can they get together already i am dying here this chapter was perfect (even if ady was in it) like the build up and their thoughts both being on each other oh that tension is building i love the progression between them and the next chapter is gone be golden ahhhhhh lemme run over

Literally the only response I can think to give is just a bunch of these guys: 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 and then a giant THANKYOU!

yoon you beautiful genius you have my heart this fic is everything and it's getting more and more captivating as it goes along i can't wait to see what more you do in this series seriously yoon with every update i go back and re-read everything again and I am in awe every single time and your talent, like this should be printed like i want a physical copy when it's done you are brilliant and such a star for coming up with this ily yoon i hope you know that 🥹🖤

SOBBING IN THE CLUB KIKI. THERES A SPOTLIGHT ON ME, IM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CROWD OF DANCING PEOPLE AND IM SOBBING.

And funfact! I can actually bind this when I'm done with it as I am slowly gathering all the materials I need in order to do so. So maybe one day it will have a physcial copy (or two)!

Once again I feel nothing but warmth and love and light and kindness from your beautiful words. As much as I enjoy writing, it's words like yours and lovely folks like you that make me want to keep writing.

Thankyou. Truly, truly.

Xo, Yoon.

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides. 

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running. 

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too. 

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home. 

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand. 

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now. 

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met. 

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again. 

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you. 

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.” 

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week. 

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.” 

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn. 

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up. 

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him. 

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do. 

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?” 

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home. 

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red. 

He’s here. He’s yours. 

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined. 

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly. 

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console. 

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs.  “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.” 

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn. 

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose. 

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two. 

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries. 

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead. 

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job. 

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold. 

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.  

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down. 

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice. 

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso  PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired. 

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time. 

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration. 

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on. 

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. 

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius. 

Your boyfriend. 

Cornelius, your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay. 

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly: 

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too. 

That you want him to know you’re back.  

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch. 

He needs to leave. 

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him. 

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face. 

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good. 

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. 

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore. 

He was never very good at it anyway. 

The smell of bacon wakes you. 

And toast, and…

Eggs? 

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am. 

9:27? 

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in. 

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly. 

Too quickly. 

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next. 

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come. 

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade. 

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him. 

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait. 

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him. 

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines. 

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.  

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down. 

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to. 

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays. 

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place. 

Like you asked him to do. 

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty. 

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date. 

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work. 

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study. 

Nel can though. 

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day. 

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign. 

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it. 

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem. 

No one can know. 

Not Nel. 

Not anyone. 

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice. 

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions. 

None.  

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline. 

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best. 

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants. 

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users. 

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it. 

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out. 

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds. 

Someone. 

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention. 

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him. 

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you. 

Fine. 

You’ll acknowledge it. 

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you. 

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.  

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.” 

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.” 

He sighs through his nose, but relents. 

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?” 

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle. 

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.  

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right.  PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know 

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you. 

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly. 

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch. 

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it. 

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself. 

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months. 

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes  You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling. 

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright. 

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.  

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it. 

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right? 

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment. 

What did he see that they didn’t? 

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does. 

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead. 

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after. 

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook. 

You internally scoff at that. 

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing. 

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences. 

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight. 

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook. 

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words. 

And dismiss it. 

You aren’t one of those women. 

You know yourself. 

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed. 

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you. 

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone. 

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear. 

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this. 

Need it. 

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you. 

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him. 

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try. 

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel. 

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love. 

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out. 

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it. 

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly. 

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it. 

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and— 

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that. 

Than him. 

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place. 

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure. 

Jungkook could never understand. 

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible. 

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything. 

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out. 

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done. 

A routine you’re all too familiar with. 

One you created. 

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off. 

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did. 

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t. 

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm. 

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason. 

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few. 

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp. 

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver. 

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan. 

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue. 

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy. 

He shouldn’t be. 

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today? 

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger? 

Feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Jealousy? 

Does have. 

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have. 

Not for… 

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off.  He seemed the type. 

Overly possessive, overprotective. 

Overbearingly so. 

Suffocatingly so. 

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him. 

He knows he has to keep others away. 

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick. 

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Was it childish and unnecessary? 

Yes. 

But he was right. And that felt good. 

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions. 

It pissed Jungkook off. 

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus. 

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was. 

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could. 

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only… 

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure. 

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual. 

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth. 

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though. 

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good. 

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft. 

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to. 

And he has to.  

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity. 

To forget. 

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums. 

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer. 

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[mrspiastri]

10. “You do realize you’re completely stealing my heart right now, don’t you?” with Lando Norris and maybe sibling's best friend? Thank you 😊

lando norris x reader

prompt 10. “You do realize you’re completely stealing my heart right now, don’t you?”

💌💌💌

Lando had always known Y/N was off-limits.

She was his sister’s best friend—the girl who had spent more time in their house than some of their actual family members, the one who had been there for every birthday, every stupid family trip, every late-night conversation when his sister needed her most.

She was supposed to be untouchable.

But somewhere between childhood and now, Lando had stopped seeing her as just his “sister’s best friend”.

He wasn’t sure when it had started. Maybe it was the summer she had come back from university, all sun-kissed skin and easy smiles, sliding back into their lives like she had never left. Or maybe it was when she started calling him late at night just to talk, her voice soft with exhaustion but filled with things she could only tell him.

Or maybe—just maybe—it had been forever, and he had only just started to realize it.

The weight of it all had been pressing down on him for weeks.

It was in the way his heart raced whenever she laughed at one of his stupid jokes, the way his hands burned whenever they accidentally brushed against hers, the way she looked at him sometimes—like maybe she was thinking the same thing but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

And then there were the times when she wasn’t looking at him, and he found himself staring at her anyway.

Like tonight.

She was curled up in a chair on the patio of the Norris house, the soft glow of the string lights casting a golden hue over her skin. The party inside had mostly died down, leaving only a few lingering voices and the distant hum of music. His sister had gone to bed hours ago, assuming Y/N would do what she always did—crash in the guest room like she had a hundred times before.

But this time, she hadn’t.

Instead, she had stayed out here. With him.

And Lando? Lando was losing his mind over it.

He sat beside her, stretching his legs out, watching as she played absentmindedly with the rings on her fingers. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy —charged with something unsaid, something inevitable.

Finally, she broke it.

“Lando,” she murmured, not looking at him.

His heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, fingers tightening around one of her rings. “Do you ever feel like… things have changed between us?”

Lando inhaled sharply. He had not been prepared for that.

He turned to face her fully, studying the way her brows furrowed, the way her bottom lip was caught between her teeth like she was trying to stop herself from saying too much.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I do.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a second, neither of them spoke.

It would be so easy to brush it off. To make a joke, to change the subject, to go back to pretending that they weren’t slowly unraveling every time they were near each other.

But Lando was tired of pretending.

He let out a breath, dragging a hand through his curls. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “I know.”

“But I want to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She exhaled shakily, shaking her head. “God, Lando. You have no idea how much I want to.”

His chest tightened. “Then why don’t we?”

She looked at him then, something raw flickering in her eyes. “Because your sister would hate me.”

And yeah. That was the problem.

Lando’s sister loved Y/N like she was family. Their friendship was everything to her. If this went wrong, if it ended badly, Y/N wouldn’t just lose him. She’d lose her best friend too.

Lando should care about that more.

He did care.

But not enough to let her go.

Not when she was sitting there, so close, looking at him like she was trying to convince herself that walking away was the right thing to do.

“Y/N,” he murmured, leaning in just slightly. “You do realize you’re completely stealing my heart right now, don’t you?”

Her breath hitched.

And for a second, he thought she might push him away. That she might laugh and shake her head and pretend like none of this was happening.

But then— finally —she whispered, “You stole mine first.”

Lando’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“Then let’s stop pretending,” he said, voice rough with something between desperation and relief.

She hesitated, and for a terrifying moment, he thought she was going to say no.

But then, ever so slowly, she reached for his hand, fingers threading through his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fuck it,” she breathed.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Lando surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like every stolen glance, every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling finally being set free.

She melted into him instantly, her hands fisting in his hoodie as if she had been waiting for this just as long as he had.

When they finally broke apart, willing their hearts to stop beating so fast, Lando let out a breathless laugh. “That was a terrible idea.”

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing absent patterns against his chest. “Yeah.”

“You still wanna do this?” he asked, searching her face for any sign of doubt.

She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I do.”

And just like that, they crossed the line they had been dancing around for far too long.

Whatever happened next—whatever fallout came from this—they would figure it out.

Together.

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (16)

this is the final chapter. Maybe in the future I will write another chapter, but for now it’s the end.

As the morning came, tiredness washed over me. Last night was amazing, fantastic, everything that it should’ve been three years ago. I felt alexia’s grip around my waist tighten, moving to kiss her forehead and run my hand up and down her back. 

“It wasn’t a dream?” She said, whispering. It made me laugh. 

“No amor. It was real. Very real.” 

We stayed like that for a while. No talking, just soaking in each others company. 

“Are you hungry? I can go get us something?” I spoke up after a while. If I was hungry, I’m sure she was too. 

“No.” Alexia’s stomach gave her away, rumbling loudly. I raised my eyebrows at her, “well yes I am but can we just go together?” 

She’s afraid I’m going to leave and not come back. I can tell, she won’t say out loud but I know. I hate myself for ruining her, for making her doubt herself. 

“Vamos! Let’s go.” 

We both got up and got ready. Breakfast was peaceful. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was light and airy. 

The rest of the month carried on much the same. Shoots for Nike, training for league games and for the Champions League. The little free time I did have, I made sure to spread equally between Alexia, Keira and Lucy, as well as the team whenever we had team nights. 

“She’s scared you’re going to run away when the seasons over.” 

Keira and I were laying on the beach in the dark, it was the only time we would’ve been able to see each other outside of training and we both jumped at the chance. 

“What?”

“You have the Olympics, and camp. She’s scared it’ll get too much and you’ll leave, especially if you don’t win or make it further than Spain does.” 

“That’s not going to happen. I promised her I wouldn’t leave. Plus she’ll be there too.” 

It took a week before alexia and I had time to be alone. Training was ramping up, our first champions league semi final against Chelsea was less than a week away. Leg 1 at home, leg 2 in London. 

“We need to talk.” Alexia’s face fell as soon as she opened the door. 

“Oh? Okay?” 

I dragged her through her own apartment to the lounge room, pushing her down to the couch and grabbing her hands. 

“I’m not leaving. Not now, not when the season ends, not again. I will not leave unless you make me or you are coming with. I know you have your worries and have been communicating them with others, but can you please communicate them with me too. I don’t care who you tell but please also tell me. We can’t figure it out otherwise.” 

“The season ends soon, then we have our separate camps and the Olympics and then-“ 

“And then we will come back to each other. No matter what. You win or I win, or lose. It doesn’t matter. We will come back to each other. Our story doesn’t end yet, I won’t let it.” 

—————————————————————————

The season ended on a high of FC Barcelona. Winning the treble. Alexia scored an absolute worldie in the first ninety seconds of being sub on in the Champions League Final. 

Both Alexia and Amelia embarked on a much needed holiday before separating for camp and the Olympics. A holiday far away from the typical Ibiza.  

In the hidden valleys of Italy, they eloped. Amelia had never thought about getting married to anyone again, but coming back to Alexia was like coming home. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the fresh air among the smog. It should’ve been Alexia and Amelia from the beginning but something things don’t work that well. 

After Australia got grouped at the Paris Olympics, Amelia went on to be the best wag she could be. Supporting Alexia and Spain (but not their coach), through the quarter finals, semi finals and into the bronze medal game. She supported Alexia as much as possible. 

Holding on to her as she cried tears of disappointment and frustration after the Brazil game. Singing her praises and love after the win in the Bronze medal game against Germany. 

Eventually, Alexia would retire and the happy couple would adopt two children, they’d go onto telling their story to their grandkids. Supporting their daughter as she played her first game with the FC Barcelona Women’s team. 

While a part of Amelia Higgins-Scott died on the faithful day, a part of her was reborn too. Emily was never forgotten, her ashes and their wedding photo sat on the mantel above the fire place. Amelia was more than happy to answer questions when their kids were growing up. 

Alexia’s foundation ‘more than 11’ kicked off, when Amelia retired, they travelled the world helping with the foundation work. returning home whenever their kids needed it. 

[hello-gloomy]

Can I request Stanley snyder with a breath taking beauty s/o ?????? Please 😭😭😭 ( add dr.xeno and senku if u are comfortable )

Ofc ofc, I do hope you enjoy it!

-------------------

Stanley Snyder with Breathtaking! S/O

-------------------

Warnings: OOC, sex jokes, corny compliments, mildly uncomfortable attention at the beginning. SCIENCE. SPOLIERS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE MANGA!!

A/N: I thought doing a short drabble would suit this request. I hope you enjoy it. ;^

-------------------

After Xeno and Stanley reached a truce with Senku's group, things started to mellow for all parties involved. You built a larger building for everyone to live in, made plans for the moon project, and planned a celebration for all the progress made.

You had a plenitude of people surrounding you from both colonies, and you had to keep your face from screwing up from having the same compliments over and over again.

Stanley noticed your discomfort and excused himself from the two mad scientists he associated with, along with the ex-magician( with a few witty marks from the latter)

The crowd started to back off as he moved closer to you. When he got to where you were, he cleared his throat while crossing his arms, giving a cold stare to the last few men who were bothering you.

"Mind If I sit here?"

You give your savior a sweet smile and tell him yes; he politely puts out his cigarette and sits beside you, leaving a space between them. You fidget briefly before mustering up some courage and moving closer to him. He glances around before swiping his arm and pulling you by the hip to flush you against his side. You giggle at his antics and whisper a thank you just for him.

"Anything for you, my love."

You feel a few glares from other guys and a bit of grumbling about Stanley taking your attention for himself; the two of you whisper to yourselves in your little world, Stanley showering you with compliments, much more original than the previous ones.

"You sure you weren't a model in the old world?"

"Keep looking at me with those eyes, and you might turn me back to stone."

You heard a groan and some movement beside you: Xeno, Gen, and Senku have joined your originally exclusive party. Gen passes the two drinks with a smirk.

"I feel bad for Ukyo and what he just had to hear." -Senku

"Feel bad, I had to read his lips." -Gen

"On account of his previous remarks, I'm sure something turned to stone alright with how close the two of you are." -Gen

Xeno choked on his drink while Senku and his partner-in-crime cackled at the nosy quips. You pat the doctor on his back while Stan claps the two young adults on the back of their heads.

"Maybe I should make Ukyo some noise-canceling headphones." -Xeno

"I hate kids." -Stan

"Watch it boomer" -Senku

You give Senku a look and ask who he's calling old, and he goes on to tell you the age categories and where you and the other gentleman lie at.

"And in reality, you are closer to our age category." -Senku

"Oh yeah, Sen, keep talking. I'm gonna stroke it to this later." -Gen

"I think I'm needed at the lab." -Xeno

You are starting to miss when everyone was slightly at each other's throats. Another friend comes over and catches the younger two, giving the three of you a leisurely getaway. Hand in hand with your lover, you notice Xeno's gaze on you. And ask him what's on his mind.

"Did you know the brain activates areas linked to pleasure and reward when taking in beautiful things?" -Xeno

"I don't need science to tell me how breathtaking she is when I can see her daily to remind myself." -Stanley ♡

[beardedmrbean]

SpaceX has managed to bring the cost of launches down exponentially the same as some of the other private contractors for regular satellite launches and ISS crew and supply missions while at the same time letting NASA focus it's energy on it's core mission of finding out what's out there and getting crewed missions out further than we ever have.

The amount that doing all of this has saved the taxpayer will more than offset the subsidies and concessions the different companies get if it hasn't already.

As investments go this one is paying off in huge ways for the American public and global population as well, not just in monetary terms but the technologies they need to invent or refine are going to be very good for the planet and the people that live on it.

There's some SpaceX bottom/booster stages that have over 25 launches to their names, the payload fairings get picked up after a launch and reused as well, not sure how much they save with the boosters but it's $6 million for the fairings each time. Turnaround on the boosters is pretty dang quick too, can't compare it to anything else because there's never been anything like it.

I love the Space Shuttle, but man that was a money sink and reusable could be debatable at least in part.

Hate musk all you like, but SpaceX, Rocket Lab, Firefly, and several others do good work at a lower cost

I could do without Blue Origin doing the suborbital tourist launches, but that's gonna be mostly because I'm jealous I can't go on one.

I'd like to keep the federal funding for Public radio and TV, but I would like there to be some oversight on what they put out because if the taxpayers are funding it then it should represent all of the taxpayers, which it hasn't for a long long time, it's moved so far to the left on things that at times they make msnbc look right wing.

Then again if the numbers on that tweet are correct, then cutting that funding shouldn't be much of a hit for them.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: random word prompts with haru, towa, ren, taiga, romeo, and ritsu!

COMMENTS: ritsu...save me....save me ritsu......save me best lawyer japan will ever see..................save me :((

Haru - Convience

It’s easy to run to his aid when he doesn’t call you. Haru is always chipper and kind, greeting you with a cheery good morning and a slap on the back. He knows you know more than enough now from shadowing him for so long that you can take care of most of the anomalies yourself.

He would never let you near the bulls, though.

Only he is allowed to break every bone in his body and get bitten til he bleeds! That is none of your concern. You’re much too soft and precious for that, he’ll sooner die than let you get in trouble.

So please, won’t you hold his hand when he feels tired? Won’t you always be there for him? He really likes it when you scratch at his scalp like that. Let him rest his head in your lap and breathe, just for a little while.

Towa - Innocent

To be one’s first love is truly an honor, Towa thinks. He finds you so cute, with your warm cheeks and soft smiles, your shaking hands as you give him little bouquets of wildflowers. He giggles and swings you around, kissing your skin over and over until your flesh burns underneath his mouth.

Precious! You’re so precious! You’re each other's first kiss, first love, first date, first everything. Towa couldn’t be more grateful that he gets to experience such a love with you.

It’s an honor that you trust him so much. It makes you so beautiful. You already looked stunning while you were in love, but since you’re in love with him, you look so much better.

Ren - Implication

“Come here and watch me play,” he says.

“Where are you going? There’s still fourteen minutes left of the movie,” he says.

“Why are you playing all the way over there? Do I stink or something?” he says.

Ren is full of subtleties you have to decipher every time you speak to him. He seems almost scared of voicing his desires for you to be near him.

Even when you get near him of your own accord, he calls it sexual harassment. It’s like he does it on purpose just to see you get irritated.

It works.

Contrary to his word, though, he always scoots a little closer to you when you’re near. A slight shuffling of feet when you’re tending to anomalies, a shifting of his leg on the couch, each one is noticeable.

He’s such a silly man. Doesn’t he know by now that you want the same thing?

Taiga - Definite

You stare, unimpressed, at the massive bite mark on your shoulder. The steam from the warming shower slowly rolls throughout the bathroom as you poke and prod at the sharp teeth marks, wondering how the hell you’re going to get them gone.

It was winter, so wearing a jacket would be a given, but hiding it wasn’t the problem. Feeling it was.

And now every time you moved your shoulder, the skin would stretch uncomfortably because your absolute unhinged boyfriend decided to fucking bite you.

You snatch up your phone and send him a quick text about how he needs to chill out and move to set your phone down. Before it hits the counter, it buzzes, and you lift it back up to your face.

Rolling your eyes, you huff. Right, silly you! You forgot being bitten was a definite when in a relationship with someone like him.

Romeo - Perception

Liking Romeo was really, really hard sometimes. Even though he was hard working and very ambitious, two traits you greatly admired, his overbearing attitude was the one thing you hated the most.

You’ll get wrinkles! Fix your eyebrows! Don’t curl your lips like that! That shade isn’t right, try this one! Your chapstick came off! Your skin is flaky right here!

Over and over and over, every flaw you had he would address like it meant nothing. Didn’t he have any manners? You weren’t supposed to talk to people like that, especially your friends.

But...when you sit yourself down at your vanity in the late hours of the evening, you do as he says. You apply your skincare and you’ll do a facemask if you feel like it.

And when you wake up the next morning to his scrutiny and slight nod of approval, you feel lighter inside.

Ritsu - Monarch

There were many words one could use to describe Ritsu. Annoying was one you heard a lot. It was not one you agreed with, however. You’d much rather use words like dependable. Cool. Clever. Impressive. You’d much rather follow him around like a lost puppy, soaking up every word he says with stars in your eyes.

Taiga makes fun of you, asking if you’re ever apart from the other person. Ritsu gets huffy and you just shake your head bashfully. Romeo snorts and calls you a basic bitch, lamenting about how Ritsu has spent so much time with you and yet hasn’t taught you a single thing, to which you reply that Article 230 of the Japanese Penal Code states that one who publicly alleges facts shall, regardless of whether such facts are true or false, be punished with penal servitude or imprisonment not to exceed three years or a fine of not more than 500,000 yen.

This time, Ritsu has stars in his eyes. You eat his pride for you out of the palm of his hand, relishing his beaming smile.

You’ve learned a lot from him.

Every time he calls you his business partner, your heart sings. It’s an honor and a privilege to be with the man you admire most.

And at the end of the day, when the lights are dim and he takes his jacket off, you help him undo his tie. He always reminds you that it’s after working hours and you always shake your head, wanting to stay by his side more than anything.

He gathers you into his arms and holds you, just for a little while, eyes sliding shut as you rest your hands against his shoulder blades.

How beautiful it is, to be special to him, the king of your heart.

[hips-dont-lieculosis]

I’ve decided to try compile my top ten, post hiatus videos, don’t hate me these are just my options, some of them even I don’t understand, this will not include ongoing series so no Tik Tok vids or Phan twitter or poppys playtime because those would take up too much space, so without further ado, for your viewing pleasure, my top ten post hiatus Dan and Phil videos as of today:

#10, the power washing video, not only is it so calming and satisfying to watch but I love how real they are and the fact that Phil leaves to have a bath, he’s so me, I do love when they play a slower game and just have chats in-between game play.

#9 the don’t scream video, this one is so weirdly soothing for me, I think because I’ve seen it so many times that I know when the jump scares are so I just get to enjoy 17 minutes of dan and Phil whispering and holding each others hands, very nice very good

#8 need I say more, it’s fantastic, love seeing that in the absolutely wildest fantasy medieval scenarios they can think of they both include them being happy together and basically dying in each others arms, very cute, it would be higher if it wasn’t sponsored by that weird game but hey, the boys have to pay that phortgage

#7 DATE NIGHT??? Honestly the fact that they call each other their “partner” the entire time and dan calling out Phil for being like “no homo” it feels like they’re edging us with the hard launch, like we KNOW NOW KISS ALREADY, also the murder on the dance floor little jam sesh, yeah… love it

#6 I love them making observations about each other, the roasting is so clever and playful that it’s not super like “are they actually mad at each other? They’re so cute and it’s really feels like a married couple being like “love you but also I’m going to roast your ass”

#5 this one is a bit similar to #7 but I think it’s slightly higher because I think they both look absolutely GORGEOUS, the silk is doing something, and the content is just banging, it’s the origin of “lamp gate” plus dan just getting crunk on amaretto, good for him, I may have slight recency bias though because I just watched this video again

#4 again probs recency bias but this video is so good, lore bombs AND competition AND it’s a dan vs phil, plus they are so funny in this, dans… outburst, hardest I’ve laughed at a dan and phil video in a little bit

#3 the camera angle, hi dads, Dan helping Phil sort out his drink, chivalry, the background is gorg, they are gorg, honestly any of the dragon city sponsored videos are so good, they seem like they’re having fun, very very good video

#2 I LOVE this video, they compliment each other throughout, they’re reminiscing, they’re cringing, dan looks like a grippy sock, and even more lore bombs it’s probably my most watched video from after the hiatus

#1 the light of my life, she is so beautiful, so horny, so funny, the bits in this like the oven being kinky, love they’re so playful and the baking is successful??????? Honestly probably my all time favourite baking video

And that’s that, I know I’ve definitely forgotten a banger video and I’m going to want to change this instantly but for now, here she is, lmk if you agree, what are your top 10?

[kazuyumi1412]

I kinda wanna hop in on this, since I usually don’t say much. (But to note, I will be including platonic ships, since I ship some romantically, platonically, or both.)

(My rambles will be under a “Read More” just in case.)

~~~

Octopath 1:

I love quite a few of the different ships in the first game, but if I had to have a favorite, it’s a three-way tie between Alfyn x Therion, Alfyn x Ophilia, and Cyrus x Olberic. I love those 3 too much!

But for this section, I’ll specifically elaborate on Alfyn x Ophilia. Personally, I don’t ship them as much in a romantic sense, since I enjoy the platonic sense more. And also, I feel like not too many people ship these two, but I also may be out of the loop.

I enjoy how the personalities of these two play together, especially since both of them are such caring individuals. I love combining Ophilia’s kind and understanding nature with Alfyn’s resourcefulness and desire to help people in need.

Particularly involving Alfyn’s Chapter 3 and Ophilia’s Chapter 4, I think that they would be great supporting each other. Ophilia’s story emphasizes how people can pick up the pieces from a loss or a traumatic event, and how people can reach out to those close to them for help. I think that Ophilia would help Alfyn navigate the consequences of his Chapter 3, since he had to go against his creed and take a life instead of saving them, and that he got stabbed in the back by someone he trusted and wanted to help. It’d be similar for Alfyn helping Ophilia after Lianna’s betrayal, since they both know that Lianna’s grieving over the loss of her father.

I also just enjoy that even though they’re very kind individuals, they’re not ones to be pushed around. They’re not going to be trampled on like doormats. If they or someone they love is being wronged, they’ll stand up and fight to make things right.

I personally see them as close friends or sibling figures, but I can understand how people can ship them romantically.

~~~

Octopath 2:

I actually don’t ship as many people in Octopath 2 compared to Octopath 1. For some, I just don’t see them being romantically involved with any of them, and for others, I think some are better off being friends or otherwise in a platonic relationship.

However, Crick and Temenos have me at the throat, both in a possibly romantic sense and especially in a platonic sense. These two are the Mikotoba and Sholmes of the Octopath universe to me, and I adore it.

I adore Temenos and Crick as characters, but pairing them together with their specific dynamic makes it all the more entertaining. Temenos teases his partner a lot, but overall, he appreciates everything that Crick does. And as much as Crick hates how laissez-faire Temenos is with his methods, he can’t deny that it revealed things that they would not be able to find if they went with the conventional methods.

Temenos being in Crick’s debt and wishing to repay him… God, that bit in Stormhail had me at the throat, especially after Crick’s untimely demise. I adore how Temenos carried on Crick’s work after him putting his life on the line to get the one clue that he needed.

Outside of the romantic sense, I love the unspoken respect between the two of them. Yes, one works within the law and one works outside of it, but they recognize each others’ talents. There’s a lot that they can learn from each other.

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[swtt4hk]

All because of me || Cho Sang-woo x fem!Reader (oneshot) SMUT!!

suggested by: anonymous!

author’s note: if I didn’t make it clear in the title THIS IS SMUTTY! so if you feel uncomfortable with sexual content please do NOT read this fic! Also this is my first smut ever so if it’s poorly written, I apologise but I’m only used to reading smut not writing 😭 anyway enjoy!

player 218. The moment you laid eyes on him on the first game , red light green light , you knew you hated him. He looked like one of those people who you just look at their face and you know that they’re not likeable. Yes , he was attractive, but for you it’s not enough to like someone.

Unfortunately, for both of you , you guys were on the same team. He was player’s 456 , or Gi Hun’s , childhood best friend and , as he called him , the pride of the neighbourhood. He really did look like someone sophisticated and smart but it still wasn’t enough for you to like him. The way he looked at you or the way he talked to you in a different manner than the others made your blood boil. He always had something to say , a comment to make , especially when you made a suggestion or a guess about what the next game was gonna be.

—what if they make us play ddakji again?

—no , they can’t do that. We’ve basically already played the game before and the one’s who got in here are the one’s who won the game so no one’s gonna die because we’re technically all good at ddakji.

He’s right. But you can’t possibly accept that he’s right , you can’t boost his ego. Your hands turn into fists , your knuckles turning white , as you click your tongue , letting out a “ts” , and look away in frustration. Sang-woo can’t help but let out a slight smirk at your frustration knowing that you know that he’s right.

player 218 or Sang-woo didn’t like you either. But it was a complete different reason for him. The moment he looked at you for the first time , he felt like falling in love. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before. But Sang-woo has a really bad drawback. He’s a cold person , which means he doesn’t let his true feelings out and always lets his ego control him. His feelings for you slowly turned into hate for you but deep down he knew he needed you. He had never felt so needy for a woman before. He loved your strong personality and how you always spoke your mind and wasn’t afraid to do anything. He knew that if you told him to get down on his knees , he would do it , no matter how much he “hates” you.

Your other teammates always thought there was something up with you and Sang-woo but didn’t mention it. Everytime you fought with Sang-woo , they would look at each other with a smirk and you would both scold them about it. You both hated the idea of even looking at each other.

The guards come in , guiding you to the next game’s area. You get into teams of ten people and of course the team you’re in involves Sang-woo too. You hated the fact that you were in the same team as him but he had potential and you knew he would help you and your team win.

and he really did. He was the one to come up with a plan the last minute , just when you were about to die. You’re now returning to the main room , all sweaty sitting on the bunk beds quietly after what you just experienced. Player 212 , one of your new teammates walks up to Sang-woo with a smirk.

—wow player 218 , you’re so smart and your idea was so good! You know , I really like smart guys…

For some reason , a pang of anger and jealousy fills your heart but ignore it completely just like it never happened. Sang-woo coldly nods at her and then looks away , showing no interest in what player 212 just said. Instead , he looks at you , dead in the eye , feeling the unspoken tension between you two. You didn’t know if he was eye-fucking you or looking at you with hate but you liked it. You wanted him to look at you. You needed his full attention on you. You couldn’t lie to yourself after all , no matter how much you “hated” him.

The guards come in again , announcing the amount if money increased and then telling you to get into lines to get your lunch. Just when you get up , you feel a strong hand gripping your arm and stopping you from moving.

—you’re seriously not even gonna thank me for saving your miserable life? Hah , how selfish.

When you hear those words , you try to control yourself to not beat him up or at least shout at him and confront him. You take a deep breath and turn around to look at him with a sarcastic smile.

—being a team and being friends is different. you’re not my friend which means I don’t have to thank you for anything. The fact that we’re in the same team and you happened to come up with a plan last minute does not mean you’re the one who saved my life. I could’ve made it in any other team just like I made it in this one. It’s all just a coincidence.

Sang-woo does not respond. He looks around and quickly drags you into the bathrooms and backs you against the wall , gripping your arms tightly so you don’t try to escape. He looks at you with a dark gaze in his eyes , his lips parted , as he’s about to speak.

—are you serious right now? I’ve accepted your bratty behaviour for so long but this is unacceptable. You could’ve died back there and I was the one who saved you. Cut this shit out , you couldn’t have made it without me or in any other team. You need me. So you better say thank you for saving your little insignificant miserable life or you’ll have to face the consequences of being a bitch.

You let out a sarcastic laugh and he looks at you with confusion. He thought he would scare you but definitely failed to.

—you really think I’m scared or hurt right now? I didn’t die back there because it wasn’t my time to die and don’t owe it to anyone. You saved your life not mine. Stop trying to be a smartass all the time and thinking you are special. You think you’re so special? Look at you. You’re here wearing the same uniform as me and all the other players. You’re just as miserable. So stop being an egoistic idiot and think before you speak.

You’re right and he knows it but doesn’t give up. Your bratty attitude makes his blood boil and his grip on your arms tightens.

—you think you’re so smart , huh? Do you want me to show you who the smart one is in here ,hm?

He says and comes closer to you , feeling the heart in his body against yours. His body pressed against yours makes you weak and needy for him but you try to play tough.

—I dare you.

You say , knowing the consequences of your action. There’s no going back now. With one move , his hands go to your waist , lifting you up and placing you on a sink , your head resting on the mirror behind you.

—you’re such a needy slut. Knowing that you’ll get fucked by your rival but still acting bratty. Fuck , you’re making my blood boil so much , I wanna hear you screaming my name until your throat goes numb.

He whispers to yours ear as his hands slide down to your hips , pressing you harder on the sink. His words are making so you wet , you’re trying so hard to hold back a moan. Sang-woo looks at you with a smirk , his body pressing harder against you.

—cat got your tongue? You’re so desperate to get fucked , huh?

his hands go to the waistband of your pants , sliding them down with one movement and pressing his thumb on your already wet underwear.

—so fucking wet for me already…

He mutters to himself but still audible to you. He rubs his thumb on your clothed pussy and you can’t help it anymore , moans slip out of your mouth without realising it.

—fuck , I fucking hate you

You moan and Sang-woo chuckles

—doesn’t seem like it…

He says with a wide smirk on his face and lifts you up again and gently places you on the floor. He quickly removes his clothes and before you know it , his hard cock is inside you , hitting immediately just right where you like it. Your moans get louder as his pace gets faster and faster.

—look at you , so desperate for me…if you were dead who would be fucking you like this , huh? You’re alive because of me , just fucking admit it.

you respond with a loud moan. You can’t even form a normal sentence, he’s fucking you so good , you’ve never felt like this before. The way he’s touching you just where you want it , it’s like he already knows your body so well.

He gets rougher and faster , making your eyes tear up and your moans turn into screams.

—fuck , I’m gonna cum

He groans , as he holds onto your hips for dear life. You keep screaming and moaning his name not caring if anyone outside hears you. The time has finally come , he moans , his pace slowing down as he fills you up. You both catch your breath , your bodies are sweaty and his hands are caressing your torso as he’s trying to come down from his high. He slips his cock out of your pussy and bends down , filling your neck with hot kisses.

—what do you say now , hm? Changed your mind?

you close your eyes , enjoying his hot kisses on your neck as you finally calm down. You know that he’s right , you knew it all along but who agrees with their enemy? Your hand reaches his head , caressing his hear and you respond in a low and soft tone.

—thank you Sang-woo…

you can feel his smirk while kissing you and he caresses your sides , softer this time as he’s finally heard what he wanted to hear.

outside of the bathroom , everyone is shocked to hear screams and moans from the bathroom , wondering who it is except for your team. They know exactly who it is and they’re not surprised. But later you guys will have to deal with their teasing and the funny looks they will give you.

———————————————————————

The endddd! Thank you so much for reading and a speacial thanks to the person who suggested it! I hope I reached your expectations and if I misunderstood your suggestion please correct me! Anyway , more fics coming soon!💞

[ilyrafe]

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒐

a/n: i don’t know if rafe’s birthday has ever been addressed, but i do think he’s a scorpio (just like me hehe)

flirty

rafe just loves when he makes your cheeks burn. you get all shy and can’t even look at him — that makes him so proud and so happy. he’s the reason for your beautiful smile.

“i’ve got to be the luckiest guy in the world, the most beautiful girl is all mine.”

“oh, stop it.” you giggle, slightly pushing him back.

“c’mon, pretty girl. don’t go all shy on me now.”

you’re a giggly mess and he loves it.

jealous

“i’m sorry, baby.”

he says, after picking a fight with a guy again, because he dared to speak to you.

“you always say that, and you keep doing it.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “you picking up a fight every time a guy comes up to me makes me feel like you don’t trust me.”

“i trust you! i just hate when these fucking dudes keep approaching you like you’re single, i know what they’re thinking, y/n.”

you can’t resist his pretty blue eyes. he gets on your nerves, but you love him.

“let them think. they only get to think, only you get to do it.”

rafe grins, because you know exactly what to say.

passionate

rafe is most passionate during sex, but it took a while. at first, sex was just sex, but as you got to know each other more, rafe was more loving, more attentive to your needs and wants, and soon sex became love making.

the hand holding, the kissing, the aftercare. it is heaven. you don’t have to lift a single finger, he’s more than happy to do the work.

loyal

the first time you couldn’t go to a party with him, you were a ball of anxiety, fearing he would cheat on you with some girl — you’re not stupid. you know most girls want to fuck rafe. would he really do that to you?

you had your answer months later, when you overheard him and hollis having a business conversation. the door was slightly opened and you couldn’t help yourself but watch them interacting.

the way she touched his arm, the way she spoke. she couldn’t have been more obvious. he grinned at her, so charmingly, and your heart was about to stop.

“my girlfriend convinced me to have this conversation with you. don’t make me tell her she was wrong about you.”

physical

his hand never leaves your person when you’re together. he’s always holding your hand, or he has one hand on your waist, or your thigh. he needs to feel you at all times, mostly because he hates to be alone and your presence brings him so much comfort.

when you’re sleeping together, he wants to feel your body against his, almost as if you’re his teddy bear.

“rafe, you’re taking all the space again!” you whine, sleepy as ever.

“hm, sorry, baby.” he mumbles, eyes still closed, as he gives you more space, but pulling you closer.