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[mrsbarnesblog]

the zipper

masterlist

summary: when you ask Bucky to help with your dress while you two at the gala, it doesn't go the way you planned

words count: 2.1k

warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mild dominance, light overstimulation,

a/n: I guess there are already tons of fics with congressman Bucky at the Gala (even though I still haven't read any of them), but this has been on my mind for a few days, so I have to give it to y'all.

also, do any of you want to be on my tag list? I thought about it randomly because many writers do it and I have so many followers... so if you would like to be tagged on my bucky fics, you can leave a comment or send me a message in my inbox🪼

The gala was in full swing, with way too many important people wandering around, talking, and pretending that they like each other. Bucky didn’t like it. He didn’t like the crowdedness, the tight and fancy suit, and the fact that he still couldn’t fully figure out what Valentina was doing irritated him even more. 

At least he had you by his side, and most of the time you were on his arm, soothingly rubbing his back or placing a kiss on his cheek when you noticed him getting overwhelmed. You were a good distraction—his favorite and only one. 

Though while he was talking to Congressman Gary, Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you went to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago and still didn’t come back. His mind started wandering off, barely listening to the man in front of him, even if it was extremely important. He just couldn’t focus when he didn’t know where you were and what was happening. 

In that exact same moment, his phone rang with a notification from you. 

Buck, I have a problem with a zipper. Could you come and help me, please?

He physically felt himself relaxing, knowing that you were just struggling with your dress, and he excused himself from the conversation as he went down the fancy hall. Bucky knocked a few times at the door until your head poked out of it with a shy smile, and you gestured to him to walk in. He locked the door before fully taking you in when you stepped further into the room. 

Hair pinned up, with a lip gloss in your hand, you applied it standing in front of the mirror. Bucky’s breath hitched when his eyes fell lower, at your chest, to be exact. Probably that was the reason you called him, because the zipper on your back was only halfway done, making the front part of your dress hang dangerously loose. The fabric barely covered your boobs, as it slid so low that Bucky could see that there was no bra underneath. 

You stood there unbothered, looking at yourself in a mirror, and completely unaware that within a second you caused him to have a hard-on. 

“...and I took it off to remove the label from the inside, but I can’t zip it back.” His ears caught only the last part of your sentence, while you were still innocently focused on your reflection. “I’ve tried so hard to reach it, but I’m afraid that I might break my nail… Buck, you okay?” Your soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he stepped behind you, metal hand on your waist. 

“Yeah, just fine, doll.” He mumbled in a gruff voice. Bucky was higher than you, so standing behind your back, he could perfectly see that your loosely hanging dress left basically nothing for the imagination. He looked down at the smooth skin of your back, framed by the soft color of the silk fabric, letting out a deep sigh as his other hand hesitated in the air. 

His cock was pulsating in his suit pants, desperately craving your attention, the feeling of you. So before he could think of anything better, his hand tugged the zipper down to your ass, and he groaned, looking back in the mirror to see the full front part of your dress falling down and bunching at your hips. 

“Bucky!” You gasped at the feeling of cold air against your bare skin. Your hands instantly shot up to cover yourself, your lip gloss fell on the floor and was probably ruined, but Bucky moved quicker, wrapping one hand around your body. “We’re… at the gala…” 

“Like I care, baby. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” His head fell forward into your neck, stubble scratching your delicate skin, lips ghosting just enough to send shivers down your spine. He pushed his hips forward, grinding his bulge against your ass and groaning at the feeling. You gasped again, instinctively melting in his arms, when his metal thumb brushed around your nipple. “No fucking bra, God damn, do you want to kill me here?”

“You don’t wear a bra in such dresses.” You mumbled weakly, throwing your head backwards and barely able to hold back your moans when Bucky teased each of your breasts. 

“Mhm, you should wear them more often then.” 

His other hand trailed down your stomach, using a high slit on your dress to sneak in between your thighs and press his palm against your core. He palmed you shamelessly, feeling the warmth of your pussy through the lacy material, which already started to get soaked. Bicky knew your body better than he knew himself, so the subtle movements like the tilt of your head to the side, parted lips, and barely noticeable rocking of your hips gave him everything he needed to take you right in this bathroom. 

You knew that you shouldn’t do anything in the middle of the gala, when you still had to go to the main room afterwards and face people, pretending that nothing had happened. But it was Bucky, the one who could make you feel lightheaded with only one touch, who always found an excuse to fuck you anywhere and everywhere, who was currently intoxicating you with his cologne and fingers that he already pushed inside of you.

“Oh, please—” You whimpered as he pumped his fingers into your dripping hole, pressing a thumb against your puffy clit. His other hand was still busy with your boobs, twisting and pinching your nipples, almost sending you to tears. 

“‘M gonna fuck you, baby. Fuck, you’re so hot like this.” He groaned against your ear, withdrawing his fingers with a loud, wet sound and immediately reaching for his pants. You felt him fidgeting with the buckle, then pushing your dress up for easy access. His hand softly pushed in between your shoulder blades until you bent over with your hands on the sink and your ass on display for him. 

Bucky’s metal hand pushed your legs further from each other, then slid your panties down until they were bunched around your ankles. At that point you wanted to cry from desperation, looking at him through the mirror and basically dripping from how horny you were. But then you felt the blunt tip of his cock sliding through your puffy folds, teasingly nudging your clit, as Bucky let out a loud moan. “Just soaking my cock, doll. You need it bad, huh?” He teased, slapping your ass once, just nudging your entrance but not pushing inside. “We got five minutes before someone notices. Think you can be quiet for me?”

“Yes. James, just please…” Your eyes rolled back the moment he slammed into you in one smooth motion, stretching you wide around him just the way you both liked, not even giving you time to think when he started slamming into you with full force. Bucky’s eyes stayed locked on the mirror, obsessed, addicted. Your reflection was pure sin—mouth parted, brows knitted in pleasure, tits bouncing with every savage snap of his hips. You tried to muffle your sounds, biting your lip until it hurt, but your breath kept catching on broken little gasps that made Bucky thrust even harder.

He groaned behind you, gripping the flesh of your ass, probably leaving marks on the skin, and keeping you still so he could use you the way he wanted. The wet sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the room, mixing with the faint music echoing from the gala. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He rasped, voice rough like gravel, forehead slick with sweat as he leaned over you. “You were made for me, doll. Fuckin’ made for me.” Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him twitch deep inside you, and Bucky let out another guttural groan. 

His relentless assault on your G-spot easily pushed you closer to the edge, making you gasp for air in poor attempts to not moan out loud. When an orgasm washed over you, Bucky didn’t stop or follow you the way you expected him to. Oh no, after mumbling a bunch of curses mixed with praise, the palm of his hand pressed on your lower stomach, and his fingers reached your clit, moving in circles. 

“Gonna cum again, doll? Soak my cock, huh?” He growled, breath hot against the shell of your ear, his fingers working your clit with maddening precision while his cock kept pushing into your sopping cunt.

Your answer was a strangled moan, your body trembling as overstimulation surged through you like fire. The first orgasm hadn’t even faded, and he was already pushing you into another, forcing your body to submit, to unravel under his touch again and again.

“Jesus, Bucky—” You whispered, your voice wrecked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as your thighs started to shake. “Too much, I—” He hushed you softly, his metal arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady as he pounded into you mercilessly, lips brushing your ear.

“You can take it. You will take it. Give me another one, sweetheart. Be my good girl.”

That tipped you over the edge. Again.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your nails scraping at the counter as another orgasm ripped through you, harsher this time, your vision nearly whiting out from how intense it was. Your whole body went limp, but Bucky held you upright, grunting as your walls clamped down on him like a vise.

“Fuck, baby—fuck.” He hissed, his thrusts losing rhythm as you dragged him over the edge with you. One final snap of his hips and he buried himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a moan and then pushing his cum into you like he didn’t want to waste a single drop. 

“You’re insane…” You managed to mumble, barely able to straighten up. Bucky shifted behind you, slowly pulling out with a groan and tucking himself back in his pants. He bent down to help you pull your panties back in place, and then, as if nothing had happened, he fixed the back of your dress, lifted up the front, and this time properly zipped it. 

“That’s your fault.” Bucky shrugged casually, giving you a shit-eating grin after spinning you to face him. You slightly wobbled in your heels, and you gripped his shoulders for some stability. He placed his hands on your waist, leaning in for a slow and soft kiss. Being a gentleman, as if he hadn’t just railed against the sink like there was no tomorrow. “Still shaky?” He whispered against your lips, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You gave him a playful glare, but it was half-lidded and dazed. “Gee, I wonder why.” You took one look in the mirror—your hair still mostly intact, makeup a little disheveled but passable, and your eyes? Yeah, they were screaming just fucked, and you wondered how many people could pick up on that instantly. “I guess we have to go back now. Even though I look totally fucked. Both literary and figuratively.” 

“You look perfect, I promise.” Bucky chuckled lowly, his hand slipping into yours as he led you toward the door, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. “I’m more interested in seeing how you’re gonna keep that poker face of yours. You’re gonna have to hold it together, doll. Until we get back home.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, fighting the flush that threatened to creep up your neck, knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh, I can do poker faces.”

“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced, but the playful gleam in his eyes told you he was looking forward to watching you try.

[z-moves]

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[mullermilkshake]

Two wrongs can make a right

Part 9 <- Part 10 -> Part 11

You're pissed... like really pissed.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - NSFW, pregnant reader, manipulation, Smut, p in v sex, vaginal sex, quickie, creampie, unprotected sex

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

“I can’t believe you, Jinwoo. I wanted to break it to her easily- why did you tell her like that?”

There was an easy explanation for this, and it wasn’t the truth. “She was going to find out through someone else, wouldn’t you rather we tell her and not beat around the bush?”

“You know how she feels about you, what you did wasn’t compassion, it was like you were rubbing it in her face.”

Because it was exactly that.

“It’s not the case at all, I just thought it was best to rip the band aid off. You and me are having these babies, and she’ll have to get used to it. But skirting around the subject won’t help any one.”

“Why do I not believe that?” You were more than just angry, you were furious. Even your foot tapped impatiently at him. “It just felt so nasty how you did-“ 

You stopped abruptly, hand straight to your mouth with all the paleness in your face. “How you did that, it’s-“ You tried again and failed, placing your hand over your stomach.

And then your ability triggered Eye’s handmaiden. It appeared in the corner, standing as it always did, arms out ready for spell casting. It fed you a spell with its aura, calming you down so that now you were standing straight.

“What is it?” He asked, rushing over to your side. “Is it the babies?”

“N-no…” You watched Eye’s handmaiden closely. “I just felt sick, I… I don’t anymore.”

Could it be the morning sickness the doctor and Hae-in talked about? “You’re getting morning sickness? That’s what it is.”

You wanted to say something but stopped yourself, shaking your head quicker than Jinwoo liked and pressed your hand flat to his chest to make space. “That doesn’t matter, I’m still pissed off at you. Don’t go pulling that again, because I don’t want drama. I’m stressed enough as it is, me and Hae-in both are.”

Jinwoo pushed back against you to get closer, he took you by the shoulders. “I’m not trying to stress anyone out, especially not you.”

“Then why did you do that?” You didn’t resist his touch.

He wanted to come clean, he really did. But telling you he loved you wasn’t the right time. He had an idea now of when he’d tell you and today wasn’t it.

“You’re having twins. Half of them are me, and half of them are you. Maybe I got a little excited now that it’s settling in, we finally did it, I got you pregnant when for a time, I wasn’t sure that I could. I kind of want to shout it from the rooftops and show the Chairman that he did wrong trying to rush us, it only hindered things.”

You seemed to buy it for now, your expression though, not so much. “So, you’re telling me that you’re not freaking out about this, that you’re excited?”

“Uh…” Jinwoo rubbed the back of his neck with the sudden realisation that you must have been ready to slap him. “Well… I dunno, I just-“

You didn’t slap him, you didn’t scowl or grit your teeth, or just throw harsh language and scold him for it. No, you kissed him. Everything stopped, Jinwoo threw out everything from the air, anything unquestioned and hidden from your view so that he left nothing between you.

He pulled you into him, feeling his way over your waist and let your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers scrunching into his hair with a tug that sent him off. Jinwoo wanted you right here, right now, and pull everything from your bottom half and fuck you senseless over the bed and any other hard surface in the room.

But, he had two babies to think of now, and it wasn’t an option to be rough with you, not for a long while.

Would you even want to have sex, or was it the hormones just getting you hot and bothered? Because the way you kept yourself pressed against him gave him mixed signals. You were pissed off at him, yet grabbing onto any part of his body you could.

“The doctor said we can still have sex, right? I forgot.” You pulled away and slipped off your pretty red shirt, leaving your perfect breasts tucked away in your bra.

You still wanted to have sex even though you weren’t obligated to do so now that you were pregnant. That had to mean something. But it also begged the question of how much information you actually took from the doctor. It was one of the first things she spoke about. You could still have sex though with caution, because there were two babies and possible complications later down the line. 

So Jinwoo had to be careful.

For now, he’d have to restrain himself until the babies were born. Simple enough despite his urges and yours, clearly. You were all over him, pawing at his shirt right over his head and stealing little nips down his chest where you could reach. All the signs told him you wanted it, and wanted it bad.

He stopped you right there, making a gap you fought with until you realised, your eyes wider than they should have been. “What- oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright, I want it too- we just need to be careful, because of the babies. But… if you still want to then-“

You did, you kissed him quick and held him near. Jinwoo took the initiative and lifted you up in his arms so that your legs wrapped around his waist. Any hard surface would do. Anything. No bed, no softness, just upright. He took you straight to the end-suite bathroom, holding you firm under your ass and swiping the products from the counter so that they clattered and cracked on the tile floor.

“Fuck me Jinwoo- I need it right now or I’ll burst.”

Pleading always got his cock hard and twitching. He grabbed at your remaining clothes and pulled your underwear off, pulling his pants down just below his ass and gripping his thighs for dear life. Jinwoo spat in his hand and ran the wet right to the base of his cock to make it glisten, ready and aching to get inside you. It had already done its job in knocking you up, but his leaking tip wanted more. It wanted to fill you up every day for the rest of Jinwoo’s life.

“Jinwoo.” Your sternness caught him off guard. “If you don’t put your cock inside me right now, you can finish yourself off.”

The doctor warned him about this, mood swings and sudden changes in scenarios he never took much notice of, until now. He couldn’t ram his cock inside you like you clearly wanted, he held himself back and slipped himself inside your dripping pussy as cautiously as he could. You still let out an aroused gasp and adjusted yourself on the counter, wrapping your legs around and gripped his ass towards you.

“The doctor said we have to be cautious, pulling me like that isn’t cautious-“

But the way you bit his bottom lip drove him insane, the way you watched him with hungry eyes sent him wild.

“You’re driving me crazy, you want to be cautious all the time for nine months?”

No, of course not. 

And hearing such forward words drove him to go against his better judgement, though he never bit, regrettably.

“It’s what we need to do to make sure the babies are safe-“

“Please don’t talk about the babies right now while your balls deep, Jinwoo.” You had a point.

He wanted to say something, or agree with you that bringing up anything other than how good your pussy felt clenching around him. Nothing came out, it wasn’t justified when he did the opposite and slipped his tongue in your mouth. You responded in kind and kissed him back, more feverishly as though you were his lover that reciprocated and told him so everyday. You were yet to say it, Jinwoo knew eventually that you would admit it and give yourself to him.

For now, you accepted his cock with open arms and let him thrust you with some precision, yet tender loving care. Jinwoo wanted to please you in every way that you wanted, his compulsions also wanted you safe.

Still, for now, his urges got one up on the priority list. Only a fraction. A minute molecule.

But it still won.

He fucked into you, lacking his fingers with yours and nipping up your neck in what was possibly the most sensual experience of his life to date. You were constantly topping each new moment just by being you.

And only you.

He loved you.

He really loved you.

I love her. I love her. I love her. 

Each time his hips went flush against the plush of your thighs, he repeated that mantra in his mind, over and over. One day he’d say it out loud and one day you’d say it back. And when he came inside you much earlier than he wanted to, those three words almost slipped out. But what did, came as more of a surprise to Jinwoo than you it seemed.

“I think it’s time you meet my mom and sister."

Part 9 <- Part 10 -> Part 11

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[lvnleah]

media leaks | no more secrets.

find the no more secrets masterlist here.

21 weeks + 5 days pregnant | March 18th 2025. 

You woke up to the sound of your phone vibrating against the bedside table, the continuous buzz pulling you out of sleep. Still half asleep, you blinked at the screen, confusion settling in as notification after notification flooded your lock screen. 

Twitter. Instagram. Even texts from close friends were there with links to videos. 

Frowning, you reached for your phone and unlocked it, your stomach flipping when you saw your name being tagged over and over again. Your heartbeat picked up as you clicked on the first link, taking you to a tiktok clip from Katie’s live.

At first, it seemed normal  Katie talking to the camera, answering questions or bantering like she always did. Then, in the background, you heard the front door open, followed by Caitlin and Kyra’s voices as they returned from shopping. 

Kyra’s voice was excited, giddy almost. “Katie, look how cute this would be for the baby!”

The live cut off immediately after, but the damage had already been done.

Your stomach dropped.

People were speculating already. The comments were filled with theories, some convinced it was Katie and Caitlin’s baby, others listing players who were injured but too many were pointing fingers at you. Twitter was going crazy. 

You scrolled, for what felt like ages, on Twitter as you read everyone's thoughts on the situation. You laid in bed, panicking about the whole thing, as you listened to Caitlin, Katie and Kyra downstairs. 

You weren’t home right now, you were at Katie and Caitlin’s house. Katie had let you take a nap before training while Caitlin and Kyra had gone to the supermarket to pick a few things up and obviously some baby clothes for your baby girl. 

Your breath hitched as you threw your phone down onto the bed. Your chest tightened.

It was too soon. You weren’t ready.

You wanted your pregnancy to be peaceful, something that you could keep your little secret with how public your life already was. You didn’t want everyone’s opinions on how you were too young, too immature and not ready to be a parent. 

You rushed downstairs where Katie, Caitlin and Kyra were sat in the kitchen. Caitlin stood in front of Kyra and Katie as the pair of them sat at the kitchen table. 

You barely registered their concerned expression as you gasped, “Kyra—Kyra said—she said ‘the baby’—people think—”

Your breathing turned shallow. The walls felt like they were closing in. You knew a panic attack was brewing, something you hadn’t experienced in a few years. 

“Hey, hey Hayden, breathe for me, yeah?” Caitlin said, guiding you over to a seat beside Katie before kneeling down in front of you. “It’s okay, just take deep breaths.”

You shook your head, tears bubbling in your eyes as your whole body felt like it was shaking, “No—No you don’t…you don’t get it. I—I don’t want everyone knowing they’re all going to—”

“Hayds I’m sorry—” Kyra tried to apologise before you cut her off. 

“No, Kyra.” You said with a shaky breath, “You—You don’t get it. I didn’t want everyone to know and now…now they’re all gonna be making assumptions about me and my baby!”

“They won’t even know it’s you, you don’t even look pregnant!” Kyra said, trying to make things better. 

“Gee thanks, Kyra! That makes me feel soooo good about myself and my bump!” Your voice dripped with sarcasm as you glared at Kyra, frustration bubbling over. “That’s not the point! The point is people are talking about someone being pregnant, and it won’t take them long to figure out it’s me!”

Kyra’s face fell, her usual playful expression replaced with guilt. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant!” you snapped, standing abruptly. “I trusted you guys to keep this quiet, and now it’s all over the bloody internet!”

Katie sighed, “Hayden, I get why you’re upset kid, but Kyra didn’t do it on purpose—”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “That doesn’t change the fact that it happened, does it?” Your heart pounded against your ribs as the panic inside you twisted into pure anger. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

You turned on your heel and stormed upstairs, slamming the door behind you. Your hands shook as you ripped open your bag, pulling out your training gear. You could still hear them talking downstairs, hushed voices filled with concern.

You got ready for training in complete silence, a silence that remained until you arrived at training. You didn’t speak a word to Katie, Caitlin or Kyra no matter how hard they tried to talk to you. You just blanked them and focused on the thoughts racing round your mind. 

Kyra kept trying. The entire car ride to training, she wouldn’t stop murmuring apologies, her voice getting smaller and smaller each time you ignored her. She was like a kicked puppy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your chest still felt tight, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

When you arrived at the training ground, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. Everyone noticed the way you stormed in, your usual greetings absent as you just walked straight to the pyshio’s room. Each door closed with a bang. 

“Woahhh, what’s up with her?” Beth whistled, “She was fine when she left the house this morning.”

Beth’s comment hung in the air, the tension thick as everyone exchanged confused glances. Kyra, Caitlin, and Katie entered just moments later, all three of them looking like they’d just been through a war zone. Kyra, in particular, looked devastated, her shoulders hunched as she chewed at her bottom lip.

“What happened to Hayden?” Kim asked, concern laced in her voice.

Kyra opened her mouth, but Caitlin beat her to it. “It’s complicated.”

“Kyra messed up,” Katie muttered, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t mean to!” Kyra mumbled, guilt clear in her voice. “I didn’t know you were on live!”

Steph sighed, “What did you do now Kyra?”

Kyra hesitated. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, glancing at Caitlin and Katie for support before sighing. “I—uh, I kinda… accidentally outed Hayden’s pregnancy.”

“Are you joking?” Kim’s voice was sharp, disapproving.

“Oh my God, Kyra,” Alessia whispered, eyes wide. “Of course you did!”

Lia let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at her temple. “You didn’t.”

“Oh my god, how?!” Beth groaned, “How did you even manage that?”

Kyra swallowed hard, avoiding their gazes. “It was an accident! I was excited about the baby clothes and I wasn’t thinking—”

“Hayden’s been stressing about this for weeks.” Steph sighed, “She’s young, she’s dealing with a lot already, and you just threw her into the deep end without even realizing it.”

Kyra opened her mouth, but Steph wasn’t finished.

“This isn’t just some stupid gossip,” Steph pressed. “This is her life, Kyra. And now, because of one careless moment, she’s probably having a breakdown while the internet picks her apart.”

“I get it, alright?” Kyra mumbled, her voice cracking. “I screwed up. I didn’t mean to, but I did. I really do care about Hayds.”

Steph exhaled sharply, her expression softening just a fraction. “Then fix it. She needs support, not excuses.”

Lia sighed again, her voice quieter. “Give her space first. She’s upset, and pushing won’t help.”

“I don’t think she’s speaking to any of you lot,” Beth added, looking toward Katie and Caitlin. “She practically ran in here like a bat out of hell.”

Katie sighed. “Yeah, we noticed.”

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Kim assured. “Just… let her cool down.”

Throughout training, you only acknowledged the coaching staff, refusing to interact with any of your teammates. No one missed the way you shut down every attempt at conversation, how you barely reacted when someone tried to joke with you.

After finishing some light work in the gym, you found yourself wandering. Your legs carried you to the changing rooms, and before you knew it, you were sitting on the floor your, head in your hands.

It was all too much. The anxiety, the pressure, the way the walls felt like they were closing in again. You’d fought off the feeling earlier, but now, alone in the quiet, it swallowed you whole.

Your breathing hitched.

Your chest tightened.

Your vision blurred.

And before you could stop it, you were shaking, gasping for air as sobs wracked your body.

You didn’t hear the door open, you didn’t even know how long you’d be there for. You didn’t hear the footsteps. It wasn’t until Kyra’s voice rang out that you realized someone was there.

“Oh—oh my god, Hayds?”

You barely registered her kneeling in front of you before she scrambled back to her feet, panic laced in her voice.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I—I’ll get help! Just stay there.”

You heard her rush out into the hallway, and within seconds, another set of footsteps approached. You weren’t sure who it was, your mind had gone to a different place as thoughts rushed around. 

Everyone knew your secret now. 

What were they going to say?

How was everyone going to react?

Would this ruin your career? Was becoming a mother so young the end for you?

“Hayden,” Lotte’s voice was calm but firm as she crouched in front of you. “You’re having a panic attack, yeah? I need you to try and focus on me.”

Your breaths came in short gasps, your whole body trembling.

“Here.” She pressed a cold water bottle into your hands. “Take a sip for me, yeah? Just small sips.”

You did as she said, the cold liquid grounding you slightly.

“Good, good,” she nodded, her voice soothing. “Now let’s do the five things, okay? Tell me five things you can see.”

It took effort, but you forced yourself to look around. “Um…the bench. My water bottle. Your shoelaces���Kyra’s—Kyra’s socks. And��my hands.”

“Perfect,” Lotte said softly. “Now four things you can touch.”

You hesitated, still feeling out of control, but you forced yourself to focus, using the breathing exercises Lotte was guiding you through. 

“The w-water bottle,” you whispered, touching it with trembling fingers. “My legs… the floor… the edge of the bench.”

Lotte nodded, keeping her voice steady. “Good. Now three things you can hear.”

You strained to listen, the muffled sounds of the training ground outside just faintly audible. “Footsteps,” you said, your voice trembling. “The—the lights… People… talking.”

Lotte nodded. “Two things you can smell.”

Your nose twitched as you took a breath. “Sweat… and… shampoo.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Lotte encouraged. “Now one thing you can taste.”

“Water,” you whispered, the cold feeling on your tongue grounding you further.

“Good, Hayden,” Lotte said, her voice soft and warm. “You’re doing great. Just keep breathing, okay? I know everything feels overwhelming right now, but you’re here. You’re safe.”

It felt like an eternity, but slowly, you began to calm. The tightness in your chest loosened, though the tears still streamed down your face.

“I… I can’t do this,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m—I’m not ready. This was all supposed to be a secret. I—I didn’t want anyone to know yet.”

Lotte’s expression softened, and she gave you a reassuring smile. “I know, kid. I know. But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got all of us, every step of the way.”

You swallowed hard, still feeling the sting of the overwhelming situation. You couldn’t stop the tears, but the panic had eased, and you felt the weight on your chest lift a little.

Lotte stood up, “I, erm, I’m gonna go get the doctor. Sit with her, yeah?”

Kyra nodded and sat down in front of you, for a moment it was just silence. Her face was etched with guilt as she spoke up.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I should’ve known better. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You couldn’t respond immediately, the words still too stuck in your throat. The guilt in Kyra’s voice made something inside you soften. She wasn’t the cause of all of this, even if her mistake had set the chain of events in motion.

Kyra hesitated, then shifted closer. “Hayds… please. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like this. I messed up. I just—I got excited, and I didn’t think.”

“It’s not just about the slip-up,” you said softly. “It’s everything. The pressure. The expectations. The fear that I’m not ready, that I’ll fail.”

Kyra’s expression crumpled, and she slowly moved closer to you again, the space between you two small now. “You won’t fail, Hayds. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I know,” you whispered. “It’s just… everything feels so big right now. I just wanted to keep this to myself for a little longer.”

She shifted closer once again, now sitting on the floor beside you. She gently tugged at your arm until you gave in, leaning into her. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer. You didn’t say anything for a long time. You just let yourself breathe and allowed yourself to be held. 

Kyra didn’t push. She just held you, her fingers gently stroking your hair, a quiet, steady rhythm that made your anxiety feel a little more manageable.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered after a long pause. “We’ll figure this out together. Hey! I’ll even pretend to be pregnant.”

“Kyra, that’s ridiculous,” you giggled as she placed a kiss on your temple, “No one would ever believe that!”

She gasped, “Erm, they so would! I’d make a very convincing actor thank you very much!”

[ultimate-marysue]

I think another element is building that trust and relationship. My parents would always explain things to me (unless extremely time sensitive, then they'd explain it later) and it was all very civil because that's how they always speak with other people. They modelled a behavior for me and that's what I learned.

I feel like some parents blame their kids for being difficult when they're just mimicking what they see from their family. If you disrespect your partner, scream at any mild inconvenience, behave unreasonably and irrationally when angry... How can you ask a little child to not throw tantrums or to talk to you with respect? If that's not okay for them to do, then why do you get to do it?

Another thing is just...spending quality time with your child (which nowadays is quite harder, I'm aware). Whenever he had free time my father would spend it with me (and siblings), and we would play with my toys or he'd do magic tricks for me or he'd help me with my homework. My man was always there (we're lucky my father had a good enough salary for that) and she'd let me tag along with whatever she was doing (cleaning, cooking, repairing things around, visiting people). I would have my tiny cleaning rag, my little tasting spoon, my toy tools... She would talk to me like a human being and I would tell her about my shows, she would tell me about her books. Once I was older we would talk about the things we both enjoyed...

So when my parents told me "hey, I know a lot of kids your age are starting to drink. We'd rather you wait, but if you want to try it here's [list of things to consider when drinking responsibly]", I didn't think "ugh, lame". To this day I'm one of the few people in my age group that has never been blackout drunk. I never saw the need, and I always knew what to expect and how to have fun without trashing myself. I have never felt pressured to have sex, I have always known how to recognize signs of an abusive partner, I have never considered doing reckless and dangerous things (let alone hiding them from my parents) just to "stick it to the old man". I trust my parents judgement, I don't resent them for anything and they in turn allow me space to try things out because they trust my judgement.

Having a good relationship with your children takes a lot (a loooooot) of work. Being as good of a role model as you can for them is not easy either. You have to fix yourself first or you're going to drop the facade pretty quickly. That being said, it's probably the best thing you can do for your kid. Even if you lack the time or the energy, I think if you sincerely love and care for your child as a person (instead of just loving them as your child) and treat them as such, you're on the right path. Children are tiny humans that learn by mimicking and that's the most important thing to remember when you're thinking about "disciplining" them.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 3

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: ~2.4k

cw: angst but not too bad this time, flirty/playful Zayne, after that he freaks out though and doesn’t speak much, reader questions her place and existence, talks of destiny, low self esteem honestly, idk if i like this part; not proofread

Synopsis: You’re trying to find your footing, but after a week in this new world, you’re still realizing just how different it is. Luckily (or maybe not so luckily?), you become distracted as Em invites her dear doctor friend over.

author’s note: I’m loving this series, it’s giving me so much inspiration! But I’m updating this way faster than I initially intended so I’m not really proofreading so I’m sorry if its not great :( ANYWAY I’m kind of figuring out where I want to go with it from here, but right now I’m just focusing on introducing each Love Interest. Writing playful Zayne is so fun, i wanna squish him :(

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail (I hope I got everyone!)

Series Masterlist

“What are you reading?” Em’s voice broke through your focus.

You glanced up at her through your lashes from your place cuddled up on the couch. You were sat near the window to take advantage of the sunlight, but now you could barely see Em’s face through the glare. You shifted slightly, the blanket wrapped around you nearly falling.

“Frankenstein,” you answered shortly, looking back to your book. You didn’t mean to come off as rude, but Em was very talkative all of the time and you weren’t close enough to maintain that. You needed some time to recharge, and Em was interrupting it.

Her brows drew together and she leaned closer to you, staring at the book cover. “What’s that?”

You looked back up at her incredulously, keeping your place with your hand. “You’ve… never heard of Frankenstein?”

Em shook her head with a frown. “Is that weird?” She asked.

“Frankenstein? By Mary Shelley? You know, the really influential and famous horror and science fiction book?” When met with another shake of the head, you let out a laugh in disbelief. “I mean, I get not knowing the plot, but not knowing the whole book…?”

Another laugh from you, and Em was pulling her phone from her back pocket. “Hold on, let me search it up…” A few moments pass filled with only the tapping of Em’s nails against the screen. Her frown only deepened as she continued to scroll. “There’s nothing here about Frankenstein or any Mary Shelley.” She looked back up at you curiously. “Where exactly did you get that book?”

You stood up, your blanket falling to the floor, Frankenstein forgotten on the arm of the couch. You yanked Em’s phone from her hand, scrolling through it with wide eyes. “That can’t be true,” you muttered.

Em was right, though. There was no sign of Frankenstein in this world. All that showed up was ‘Did you mean:’ posts and similar names, but no direct matches.

How could that be?

What else was different in this world?

If there was no Frankenstein, then what else that you knew so familiarly was forgotten?

You knew there would be some differences in the world of Love and Deepspace, but you’d thought you could adapt. Now, though, it felt like you were floundering. There were more differences than similarities, and you had no idea how to deal with it.

You had no idea who you were supposed to be.

“Are you alright?” Em’s hand come on your shoulder. “You look really pale.”

You took a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just feel a little light-headed, but it’s nothing.”

“Have you eaten today?” She chastised, already knowing the answer.

“No,” you admitted sheepishly.

Em sighed, already moving into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how you lived before we moved in together. What do you do when I’m gone on missions? Do you just starve until I get back?” She moved around the kitchen efficiently, pulling foods and plates out of cabinets that you didn’t even know existed.

You really needed to learn your way around this apartment.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I can take care of myself,” you laughed.

“Oh, really?” Em raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you?”

You went quiet at that. How were you supposed to respond? She was right, of course. Em was perceptible when it mattered. You had just never had someone to take notice of it and do something before.

How are you supposed to act when you’re being taken care of?

When someone you’ve only known for a week is putting in more effort than friends you’d known for a year.

You took the plate she handed you, muttering a quiet thanks that Em waved off.

Em carefully watched you chew, not interrupting you until you were about halfway through your plate.

“Would you mind if one of my friends came over?” She asked suddenly, eyes trained on your face for a reaction.

You stopped chewing, staring up at her. After quickly swallowing, you sighed. “Is it Tara? Because as much as I love her I don’t think I can—”

“No, it’s not Tara,” Em chuckled. “I wouldn’t ask her over today, I know you’re tired and she can be a lot. This friend of mine, though…” She looked at you hopefully. “He’s really quiet. Kind of similar to you, actually. He can be a little intimidating when you first meet him, but he’s really sweet!” Em stared at you expectantly.

“I’m not completely opposed,” you began, catching sight of Em’s excited smile. “But I’m not sold on the idea either!” You said quickly. “What friend is this?”

Em’s smile didn’t dim. “It’s my friend Zayne.”

A methodical knock on the door had Em springing from her seat next to you and smoothing down her shirt. You put your bookmark in Frankenstein, setting it on the table next to you. You nervously shifted on the couch, not wanting to greet Zayne at the door.

After what happened with Xavier, who knows what could happen with Zayne?

You weren’t really sure what was happening now that you were here, and you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to find out. Were you a problem? Disrupting the plot, distracting the budding romances, keeping Em away from her destiny?

What even was her destiny?

What was your destiny?

If you really were a part of this plot, a part of this world, and someone so close to Em, why hadn’t you been mentioned?

Practiced footsteps brought your gaze up, immediately finding a familiar pair of green eyes. You stood, leaving your blanket discarded on the couch as you offered your outstretched hand.

Zayne took it, a ghost of a smile spreading on his lips as he shook it. “So formal,” he chuckled.

“It’s out first time meeting,” you shrugged. “Isn’t this what you do when you meet new people?”

“I suppose, but I’ve shaken enough hands at the hospital. I’d like to greet you as a friend would.” He gave you a light smile. “How exactly would you do that? I’m afraid I haven’t had much experience in friendship,” he admitted.

As a friend? The stoic Doctor Zayne joking around and wanting to be your friend?

What was going on?

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “Whenever I see my friends, I usually just hug them.” You watched as the very tips of Zayne’s ears turned a fiery pink.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t suppose we’re close enough for that yet.”

“I’m so glad you you guys are getting along!” Em said, oblivious to the slight tension between you and the doctor. “I was worried since you both are kind of awkward.” She laughed brightly.

“Yes, well, I wanted to…” Zayne hesitated as he looked back to you. “I wanted to make a good impression on your friends. I would hate to be disliked by someone close to you.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to dislike you,” you chuckled. Zayne stared at you with wide eyes, causing heat to rise to your own cheeks. “I only mean because you’re so polite and funny,” you explained hastily.

Zayne looked away, a grin growing on his face. “There aren’t many who would consider me funny. Even Em has said I’m too serious.”

“It’s because you are!” She said accusatorially before stepping over to your side as if that would make you easy to convince. “He’s been like this ever since we were kids! Other kids were out, running in the streets and playing tag, and he was inside huddled up with a book!”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!” You said, walking over to Zayne. You leaned in close, whispering, “I was that kid, too. It’s not a bad thing to go against the status quo sometimes.”

He gave you a smile filled with relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone say that to me, or agree with my childhood decisions.”

You shrugged. “I don’t see why it’s an issue. Everyone wants you to express yourself, but then they get mad if you don’t do it the way they want.” You looked at him, searching his eyes. “At the end of the day, I think you just have to accept that you’re not going to please everyone. And it’s not your job to, either. Everyone has their own opinions and decisions to make, and I think you just need to do what makes you happy, instead of what makes other people happy.”

Zayne was silent for a moment. “Very wise words,” he murmured. “I suppose it is easy to neglect one’s own happiness in the pursuit of satisfying another’s.”

You nudged him with your shoulder, a playful smile growing on your face. “It’s alright to be a people pleaser, Doctor Zayne. Just don’t forget yourself.”

Em cleared her throat, earning her attention from you and Zayne. “Listen, this is all very sweet, but it’s also boring.” She made a face, scrunching her nose. “You guys can have your little therapy session later, but right now, I wanna do something. Can we play a game?” Em bounced lightly on her feet.

Zayne chuckled. “This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve called me a bore. What would you like to play?” Em put her hand on her chin, pretending to think on the question. “Not Kitty Cards, I hope.”

“No!” Em said quickly. When you snickered, a blush painted her cheeks. “I just mean, we’ve been playing so much lately. I’m sure you don’t want to play again.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you certain it’s not because of your recent losing streak?”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “Let’s not be too mean. She is our friend, after all.”

He hummed, trying to hide his grin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Why don’t we play that new game you just got?” you offered, looking to Em. “The one with the snowmen?”

Em made a squeak of excitement before scrambling over to her game console.

Zayne stared at you, his posture suddenly stiffening before it seemed like he reminded himself to relax. “Have we… met before?” He asked you.

You shook your head. “No, we haven’t.” You cocked your head. “Why?”

He shook his head softly. “It’s nothing.” When your gaze persisted, he sighed. “You just seem familiar somehow. Like I’ve known you somewhere.” The words caught in his throat, and his next sentence came out barely as a whisper. “Like I’ve loved you before.”

You gaped at him, unsure if you had even heard him correctly, before Em walked over and swept you both into the living room to all play her new game together. Em gripped your arm as she situated you right next to her, exclaiming something about how you two needed to stick together and beat Zayne.

You watched the hesitation on Zayne’s face as he saw the places left to sit. He considered simply sitting on the floor, but he ended up taking the seat next to you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Not many words were spoken after that. Zayne’s posture returned to that of the Doctor, prim and proper. Em carried most of the conversation, and the few answers Zayne gave were short and clipped.

You glanced at Zayne during one of the loading screens, only for him to avoid your gaze.

Did he figure out you didn’t belong here?

It was dark by the time Zayne left, offering you a curt nod as he said goodbye. You and Em straightened up the apartment in silence, feeling the fatigue from the week and aching for sleep.

Once the room was presentable, Em led you to sit on the couch, with her sitting opposite you on the small coffee table. She looked away from you, rubbing her thighs with her palms.

She did that because you did that.

There was nothing about the MC rubbing her thighs when she was nervous before, but you’d been doing it for years.

What other traits or habits of yours were now Em’s?

“Can you tell me something?” She asked, looking up at you with downturned lips. Already expecting this, you nodded. She took a deep breath. “Did something happen between you and Zayne? Because he was really relaxed when he first came over, but then he started acting like how he acts in public and I just wanted to know if you maybe said something?” Em winced as she finished.

“I don’t think I said anything weird,” you shrugged. Now was not the time to tell her what he’d said, you thought. Not that there would ever be a good time, but maybe you wouldn’t have to tell her. Maybe the story would progress as it was supposed to. They would all love her, she would take her pick, and leave the others heartbroken.

And you would simply fade into the background.

Isn’t that what you were supposed to do?

Just be a plot device here and there, not have a Love Interest think he’s loved you before.

How did he expect you to react, anyway?

“That’s weird.” A pout grew on her face. “I wonder what freaked him out.”

Probably the fact that he acknowledged connection with someone other than you, you thought.

He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to.

He wasn’t supposed to.

You repeated the mantra in your head, trying to make yourself believe it.

This girl in front of you is the one he’s defied gods for, so who are you to get in between that?

She was the one that the story was about, not you. You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Would you be able to get back home?

Did you want to?

Maybe you could live here. Stay here. Carve out a life here.

Maybe you could find your own happy ending.

You shook your head.

You are not the priority protagonist.

You are an aid, a secondary character, a plot device. Someone to fade away.

What would happen if you went against that?

All you needed to do was help Em find her happy ending, and pray it doesn’t lead to your own downfall.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--" 

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding. 

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs. 

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper? 

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes. 

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer. 

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

[theonlyonesora]

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

12 – Following Forward

The next day was quiet.

Oscar had sent a few casual messages throughout the morning, checking in after his flight and sending a picture of the hotel room with some sarcastic comment about the view. Lily had smiled at her phone, but the weight of the conversation she still needed to have pressed down on her chest.

Later that afternoon, she called him. He picked up almost immediately.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice soft with exhaustion. “I already miss you.”

Lily leaned back on her bed, her fingers tangled in her bedsheets. “Hey. I miss you too.”

Oscar noticed the shift in her tone. “What’s going on?”

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I talked to (Y/N).”

There was silence for a beat.

“She’s not comfortable with... how things have been,” Lily continued gently. “She liked the time we all had together, but she doesn't want to be part of something like that long-term. It’s not her. And she’s afraid of hurting either of us.”

Oscar let out a slow breath. “I figured.”

“She just wants to go back to being friends. She doesn’t want to come between us.”

There was another long pause before he spoke again. “So… that’s it, then?”

Lily nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah. I think it’s for the best.”

Oscar didn’t sound angry. Just thoughtful. “It’s weird. I really liked having her around. The three of us… it felt good.”

“I know,” Lily said softly. “But it only felt good because we all agreed to it. If one person isn’t in it, then it doesn’t work.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I get that.”

She smiled faintly. “We’re okay, though?”

Oscar’s voice warmed. “Of course we are. We’ll be okay, Lily.”

A beat of silence passed, soft but not uncomfortable.

“You still want me, right?” he asked quietly, like a kid pretending to be casual.

She chuckled. “Always.”

They stayed on the line for a while after that, talking about nothing. Just two people anchoring each other after the storm of something unspoken.

.

The cold autumn air in the city had always helped (Y/N) think. Maybe that was why she found herself walking more lately—long routes to campus, detours through the park, coffee runs just for the sake of it. Anything that helped her feel like herself again.

Oscar and Lily? Still together. Still posting candid shots from races and little couple moments that earned thousands of likes. And while (Y/N) was still tagged in old photos, she had stopped reposting them. It wasn’t bitterness. Just distance.

And maybe a little self-preservation.

University was relentless again—final papers, career fairs, presentations—but (Y/N) was thriving. Top of her class in Finance Strategy, already getting calls back from internship interviews. And one of them had come from a consulting firm she didn’t even think she’d land. The recruiter? A sharp-dressed, blue-eyed grad named Matteo who had been clearly smitten from their first coffee meeting.

They started seeing each other more. Not fast. Not wild. But steady. Healthy. She didn’t post him right away—only when it felt right. A soft black and white photo of his hand in hers, two coffee mugs in frame, the caption just a quiet: “Some peace looks like this.”

It wasn’t long before the comments came in.

“Wait… where’s Oscar?? 😳”“I thought she was with Lily and Oscar??”“Okay but I support this, she looks genuinely happy.”“Poly breakup confirmed?”

Even Lily messaged her that night.

“He’s cute. I’m happy for you. Really.”

That message made (Y/N) cry more than she expected.

She wasn’t running away from who she’d been in Vegas, or in the weeks that followed. But she also wasn’t going to live there forever. (Y/N) had dreams to chase—boardrooms, big cities, something that felt real and solid.

She’d always been a little reckless, sure. But now? Now she wanted things that didn’t come from blurred lines and whispered excuses.

She wanted something that didn’t need to be justified.

Tag List:

@freyathehuntress, @mimisweetz, @aleatorio1234, @totallynotluluu, @rorabelle15, @prongslena, @linnygirl09, @mangotaitai, @forensicheart, @devilacot, @lilorose25, @landofotographyy, @paolexsstuff, @sanctify-mp3, @emma-manuhpe, @virtualperfectioncat, @forumlabee, @luv4gyuuu

[z-moves]

the hyperlinks in the paragraphs above leads to Dina's family's new fundraiser. it can also be found here:

$675 / $22,000

the old fundraiser is #264 on @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's list of vetted fundraisers. [ link to Google Sheets ]

it was also #213 on @/gazavetters's list of vetted fundraisers. [ link to Google Sheets ]

it was also #741 on The ButterflyEffect Project's list of vetted fundraisers. [ link to Google Sheets ]

5/15/2025: funding was given recently, but there were only 11 fundings within less than a month. it is STAGNATING! it is also CRITICALLY LOW on funds!

tags for reach (please let me know if you don't want to get tagged):

@heritageposts @timetravellingkitty @rhubarbspring @irhabiya @wellwaterhysteria @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @tortiefrancis @toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @aristotels @komsomolka @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @dykesbat @watermotif @mavigator @lacecap @socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @tamamita @postanagramgenerator

This was an interactive question directed to you. After answering, I would like you to take a look at the bottom of this interactive question and read to the end.

If death was an option in your hands! How would you die⁉️

Here in Gaza, our children are dying every moment. They are being bombed from the air, sea and land. They are dying by drowning and dying from disease. And pets do not find anything to eat like us and suffer like us, and greatly.

Can you imagine what it's like to die of hunger, to die with your stomachs empty for many months without any food entering it, to die very slowly and then wish that your death was by bombs and not from hunger? Your child is in front of you and you are unable to do anything for them. You are unable to even look for food. Death is closer than life.

This is Gaza and this is the suffering of our children here amidst the suffering, starvation and stifling siege for months. We need you and your donations now more than ever to save our children and feed them before time runs out. Donate now and be a reason for their survival.

It is your choice now to save them 🙏 Please share this post and Donate any amount now. It will make a huge difference and change their lives.

@ot3 @apas-95 @marxism-transgenderism @turtletoria @omegaversereloaded @hotvampireadjacent @sporesgalaxy @joeyclaire @emil @hiveswap @pregnantseinfeld @tamamita @tamarrud @taffybuns @postanagramgenerator @naggingatlas @specialmouse @valtsv @akajustmerry @aria-ashryver @autisticmudkip @a-shade-of-blue @guldaastan @panspy @meshugenist @cantsayidont @yekkes @imsobadatnicknames2 @imlizy @txttletale @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @ @b0nkcreat @soup-mother @soupygremlin @murderbot @gudakko @autisticmudkip @memingursa @memewhore @mushroomjar @mushroom-punk @3000s @wolfertinger666 @chilewithcarnage @rickybabyboy @beserkerjewel @zigcarnivorous @raangmanch @myceliacrochet @akajustmerry

[sapphicinsanity]

I love Tuesdays

Fuck my thighs look so good in this pic

Tags:

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list

@swag1seven @catboybiologist @k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl @xenasaur @germanknifemommy @whalesharkcat @glowingemberz @godless-of-the-hunt @shakukon-to @gendemancer @zerosuitsammi3 @lesbian-spider-drone @trainsgenderfoxgirl2816 @my-blog-is-a-sideblog @lxladies @drlackidaisical @normalbeing404

[better-setterv2]

𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝓃𝑒

Authors Note: Hey Lovelies. I absolutely loved writing this one-shot! I have a whole list of notes with different ideas I will write about and this is one of them. I also had this on PolyBuzz for ages now, though I don’t remember my user🙏🏻. If you would like to see another one like this let me know what subject next. Lots of love xx

Summary: A 24 year old university student falls for her stylish, former F1 champion PE teacher, leading to a secret romance that blossoms into something real, intense and passionate.

Warnings: sexual content, age-gap

Taglist: @nebulastarr @hannibeeblog

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You weren’t expecting much from your third year of university in PE elective. Maybe an easy A, a few stretches in overpriced activewear and a break from the pressure of your dual major.

You signed up for the PE elective thinking it would be an easy credit. A laid back course to balance out the workload of your double major of psychology and sports science with a side of cardio and campus gossip.

What you weren’t expecting?

Lewis Hamilton walking into the gym with a whistle, sunglasses and a clipboard like he owned the place.

You blinked twice.

And yet, there he was. Seven time Formula 1 world champion turned into PE instructor?

When he walked into the university gym on the first day, the temperature in the room seemed to drop and rise all at once. Every student stopped mid conversation, half frozen by disbelief, the other half whispering like they were watching a legend walk across sacred ground.

He moved like someone used to being watched. Poised. Effortless. As if the echoes of roaring crowds still lived in his bloodstream, even now. The rumors had been vague such as a guest lecturer, maybe, or a special one off speaker. But this? A full on semester with him coaching physical exercise?

Apparently, after years on the track, Lewis Hamilton wanted a quieter life. Something grounded. Something real.
And that meant teaching PE to a bunch of sweaty twenty something year olds.

He was every bit as magnetic as he’d looked on your TV growing up. Tall and lean, with sharp cheekbones, brown skin that caught the late morning sun and tattoos that peeked out from under the sleeves of his fitted Nike jacket.

No crumpled tracksuits for him - his were sleek, tailored. Every day brought a new, curated ensemble like black joggers paired with designer sneakers, hoodies that looked hand stitched, subtle flashes of jewelry that made it clear he hadn’t entirely let go of the spotlight.

And he smelled good. Too good for a gym.

You noticed.

Of course you did.

You weren’t blind. And neither were your friends.

“Look at his arms,” Mia whispered beside you on the first day, shielding her phone while sneakily snapping a photo. “Jesus. He’s like, grown grown.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to care but yeah. You noticed. How couldn’t you?

Still, you reminded yourself you were here to move. Not flirt.

You might’ve been in the popular group - always tagged in stories, always in the loop but you were different. You were sporty. Smart. Not just another glossed up girl posing for gym selfies. You’d played competitive soccer through high school, trained like you meant it. You didn’t just show up to class, you showed up to work.

And apparently, so did he.

When he started speaking, the room obeyed.

“Some of you think this is going to be a vacation,” Mr. Hamilton said, pacing the gym floor. His voice was smooth, low, commanding in a way that made you instinctively straighten your spine. “It’s not. You’ll work. You’ll sweat. You’ll earn your grade. If that’s not what you signed up for, now’s your chance to walk out.”

No one moved.

Not even you.

Then, just for a beat his eyes landed on you, sharp and quick your pulse jumped but you didn’t look away.

If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

They didn’t linger.

But they didn’t skip past you either.

You didn’t flinch.

You almost smirked.

And you could tell immediately that Lewis wasn’t going to give out praise just because you were good looking or confident. He didn’t care about your friends or your designer gym bag. He cared about form, focus and effort.

You respected that. More than you expected to.

And maybe that’s where it started.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Weeks passed. The semester picked up rhythm.

He wasn’t just good at teaching, he was intentional. Everything he said had weight and he didn’t waste a single word. He gave feedback without sugarcoating it, kept things moving on schedule, and had this calm authority.

You liked watching him work. The way he moved precise, composed, never hurried. He’d pace the gym floor with a clipboard in one hand, calling out reps, adjusting someone’s stance with a few quick words. His voice always cut through the noise, low and grounded, just commanding enough to silence your thoughts whenever it reached your ears.

Though the tension soon picked up in class.

He was fair but firm. A coach in every sense of the word. Usually relaxed chatting casually with students, correcting stances with a quiet, even tone but when someone slacked off or tried to push back? He didn’t hesitate to shut it down.

Like the time one of the rugby guys made a sexist joke about stretching being “feminine.”

“Do it properly,” Mr. Hamilton said without missing a beat, “Or get out.”

His voice was clipped, cool. Steel under velvet.

No one laughed after that.

You respected him. That’s where it started.

The first time he praised your sprint relay “Good drive phase. Strong finish.” You caught yourself smiling longer than you should’ve. He said it to your form, not your face. But it landed anyway.

You stayed late after class more than once, not intentionally at first. You’d hang back to finish stretching or clean up your area, but more and more, you found yourself hovering. Helping him collect cones. Rolling up mats. Making small talk while everyone else filtered out.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said one afternoon as you grabbed a stack of practice bands from the floor. He was kneeling beside the equipment box, glancing at you from under his lashes.

You shrugged. “Don’t want to go back to my flat yet.”

He looked at you for a moment, lips twitching at the corners like he was holding something back.

“Loud roommates?”

“Louder TikToks,” you said, dragging a mat across the floor.

He huffed a quiet laugh. Just a breath. But it was the first one you’d heard from him.

It did something strange to your chest.

You didn’t know what that was between you but it was something. And that something grew stronger every week.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

After that, things shifted.

Not all at once. Not publicly. But slowly. Silently.

There was never anything inappropriate. No lines crossed. No flirting, not openly.

But the tension lived in the small things.

More banter between reps. More passing glances. A rhythm you weren’t sure you’d imagined.

He never crossed a line. Not even close.

But there were…moments.

When his hand brushed yours a second too long as you passed the medicine ball. When he stood close behind you correcting your squat form, voice low in your ear. “Drop your hips. There. Perfect.”

You felt the heat in your cheeks. You told yourself it was exertion.

It wasn’t.

And it wasn’t just you. You caught him watching you stretch once, his jaw tight, fingers flexing slightly at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Or the way your eyes would meet during water breaks, neither of you speaking, both of you thinking the same thing.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t one sided.

This shouldn’t feel like this.

You told yourself it was just respect. Admiration. A student teacher thing.

It was unspoken.

But your constant excuse got harder to believe the day it rained.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It was raining one Thursday evening when you stayed late again. The gym had emptied after circuit drills. The fluorescent lights buzzed above, washing the polished floors in a sterile glow. Outside, the storm pounded the roof in rhythm. A symphony for two.

Your friends had bailed to get early drinks at your usual rooftop bar, but you stayed behind.

You sat on the floor, unlacing your sneakers, hair damp with sweat, limbs heavy but content. You weren’t expecting him to sit down beside you. Not without a word. Just a quiet presence and the sound of his water bottle hitting the floor.

“You’ve improved,” he said eventually, his voice almost drowned by the rain.

You glanced sideways. “Just now noticing?”

He smiled - crooked, warm, maybe even a little shy. “No. I noticed week two. I just wasn’t sure if telling you would go to your head.”

You scoffed, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “So what, you were playing hard to impress?”

He leaned back on his hands, exhaling slowly. “Something like that.”

Your heart stuttered and for once, you didn’t mask it. Not all the way.

“Why’d you really leave racing?” you asked, curious and a little breathless.

He looked up at the ceiling for a beat. “Too much noise. Too many cameras. I wanted something slower. Simpler.”

You smirked. “And yet you chose a university gym full of twenty year olds.”

He laughed a real one this time. Deep and gravelly. “I said simpler. Not peaceful.”

You grinned. The space between you felt thinner than it had ever been.

And then he looked at you.

Not the casual glance of a teacher to a student. Not even the assessing gaze of a coach to an athlete. But you. The full picture. The smart girl in the popular group. The woman who worked hard, who ran faster, and who watched him right back.

He saw you.

And suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. “I know this can’t be anything.”

You swallowed, your voice soft. “I know.”

“But it feels like something.”

You looked at him then, truly looked and for the first time, you let the guard drop.

“I know that too.”

Neither of you moved. Not that night.

There was no line crossed.

But something passed between you, a current. A silent agreement. Something tender and dangerous and full of potential.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You told yourself it would fade.

It didn’t.

After that, the tension only grew. You caught him watching you during warmups. He stopped correcting your form when he didn’t need to. You were flawless, and he noticed.

Not when he started saying your name more often in class. Not when you caught him watching you leave, his jaw slightly clenched like he was holding something back.

Not when you went home and dreamed about those quiet moments, that knee bump, that barely there smile.

You didn’t talk about it with anyone.

Some things are too sacred for words.

But when his hand lingered again a week later, when your eyes met across the gym and stayed…you knew.

It wasn’t just you.

He was falling too.

And suddenly, it didn’t matter that he wore sunglasses indoors, or that you once went to a foam party on a Wednesday, or that he was eleven years older with a past carved in gold.

What mattered was this strange, slow blooming thing between you. Something neither of you planned. Something neither of you could name.

But it was real.

And it was yours.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It started with a message.

Not through the university system. Not through anything official. Just a name you didn’t recognise lighting up your screen one late Friday night, the same time you were pretending not to replay the way Lewis looked at you in the gym that week.

You opened the message. It was short.

Unknown Number:
Don’t answer if this crosses a line. But I’ll be at the park across from the library. Late. Just walking. Just air.

No name. No emoji. Just that.

You stared at it for a long time.

And then you put on your jacket.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It wasn’t a date.

At least, that’s what you both told yourselves.

You met under the dull glow of a streetlamp near the swings, hood pulled over your head, hair still damp from a late shower. He was leaning against the railing, hands in his pockets, dressed in all black. The kind of outfit that was meant to go unnoticed, but on him? It made you look twice.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“I didn’t know if you meant it.”

Lewis gave you a look. That same look he wore in the gym which was sharp but soft, unreadable and tender all at once.

He nodded toward the trail. “Walk with me?”

You nodded. And so you did.

You talked about nothing for a while. The uni food. The rain. Your latest lecture. He asked you about your thesis and actually listened. You asked him about life after racing and he paused longer than he needed to before answering.

“It’s slower,” he admitted. “But not easier.”

You looked at him sideways. “You miss it?”

“I miss what it made me feel,” he said honestly. “That rush. That certainty.”

You knew that feeling. You chased it in other ways like grades, sports, control. You recognised the weight of needing to be someone.

“But lately,” he added, voice a little hoarse, “I feel that again. Around you.”

You stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence wrapped around you both like fog. Too much. Too close.

“You shouldn’t say that,” you said, but there was no bite in your voice. Just truth. Just fear.

He stepped closer anyway.

You didn’t move.

“I know,” he murmured.

The wind shifted, blowing leaves past your feet. Your heart thudded in your throat.

His hand brushed your sleeve, just barely. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, your breath hitched.

And then, finally he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy or wild.

It was soft. Slow. Like he’d been thinking about it for weeks and didn’t want to get it wrong. Like his whole body was holding back just enough not to shake.

His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. You leaned in like your body didn’t know how not to. His lips were warm. Steady. Patient.

But beneath all of it was a current of heat. Of want. Of need.

You broke apart just barely, foreheads resting together, both of you breathless.

“This is crazy,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said again. “But it’s real.”

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You didn’t meet on campus. Not after that.

Not in the gym. Not in daylight. Not where anyone might ask questions.

Instead, it became your routine.

Once a week, sometimes twice.

Always after dark.

Quiet corners of the city. His car parked down side streets. Rooftop views with late night tea. Conversations in shadows and kisses that grew longer. Deeper.

You told yourself you weren’t dating.

But it felt like you were.

You learned things about him no one else knew anymore. That he still watched old races sometimes when he couldn’t sleep. That he journaled. That his favorite playlist had no rap on it just soul and soft R&B.

He learned things about you too. That you cracked your knuckles when stressed. That your parents divorced when you were twelve. That you were scared of letting people see how much you felt.

And he never made you feel too much. Or too young.

Just seen.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

But secrets have a shelf life.

And emotions don’t like to be hidden.

One night, sitting in the backseat of his car outside your apartment complex, wrapped in his hoodie and curled against his chest, you finally asked it -

“What happens when the semester ends?”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he said, “I don’t know.”

You lifted your head. “You haven’t thought about it?”

“I think about it too much.”

You didn’t answer. The ache in your chest did.

“I didn’t plan for this,” he said, hand finding yours. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I didn’t expect you,” you whispered.

Your lips met again, slower now. Less urgency. More ache.

There was nothing casual about this anymore.

This was no longer a game. No longer a thrill.

This was something blooming in secret, wild and uncontainable.

You both felt it.

You just didn’t know what to do with it yet.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

But you would.

One night soon, something would shift. A decision would be made. A line would be crossed.

But for now?

You held his hand in the dark.

And let it bloom.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The semester was over, and so was the façade.

There was no denying it now.

You hadn’t seen Lewis for almost a week. You'd both been too busy. Life had its way of pulling you back into the normal rhythms of university, work and friends. But it didn’t stop you from thinking about him, constantly. The messages. The stolen kisses. Those moments when it was just the two of you, hidden from the world and you could pretend for a few minutes that this whatever this was, could be something more than just fleeting.

But tonight, you were here.

His place.

Lewis had texted earlier, just after you’d wrapped up your final exam. It was simple. Short. But you both knew what it meant.

Lewis: “Come by after. I’ll be waiting.”

You’d tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was impossible.

You stood in front of his door now, holding your breath. Nervousness electrified under your skin, not from fear, but from the anticipation of everything that was about to unfold.

You knocked.

Seconds later, the door creaked open. There he was, standing in front of you. His usual confidence, mixed with something softer tonight like he was just as nervous as you were. He gave you a soft smile and a brief look of reassurance before stepping back to let you in.

“Hey,” you whispered.

He didn’t need to say much a he pulled you in immediately, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close, as if the week apart had been too long for either of you to stand.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your hair.

You closed your eyes, trying to take in the warmth of him, the comfort of his embrace. You hadn’t realised how much you needed him, how much his presence grounded you in the chaos of everything else. The world faded to just the two of you, and the rush of emotions surged through you again.

“I missed you, too,” you whispered back.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at you with a tenderness you couldn’t quite comprehend. “You’re sure about this? About us?”

You nodded, heart pounding. You were sure. More than sure.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” you said, voice quiet but firm.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your lips. Slowly, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Neither do I,” he said softly, then leaned in.

His lips found yours in an immediate kiss, slow and deep, tasting the longing that had built between you for weeks. You responded instinctively, your hands slipping under his jacket to feel the warmth of his skin beneath. His body pressed into yours and you could feel the electricity that always simmered beneath the surface between you.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, you didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. The air between you was thick with desire.

Lewis’s hand slid down your back, pulling you closer. He led you to his living room, where dim lights from lamps cast long shadows across the furniture. His place was sparse, but there was something inviting about it. Cozy. A home you could picture yourself in if only the circumstances were different.

He didn’t waste time. His lips were on your neck, his breath warm against your skin as his hands slid up under your shirt, touching you as if he had to remind himself you were real.

“God, you feel…” he trailed off, kissing his way up to your jaw, then back to your lips.

You couldn’t form the words either. You wanted him. Needed him. It was clear now that this whatever it was had moved beyond the stolen moments in the park and in secret corners. You both wanted more. Needed more.

You broke away from him for a moment, catching your breath. “I’ve never done anything like this,” you confessed, hands trembling slightly as you reached for the hem of his shirt.

“I’ve never felt this way,” Lewis admitted, pulling his shirt off and stepping closer. His bare chest, the muscles honed from years of racing, made your breath catch. He was gorgeous, but it wasn’t just his looks it was the way he made you feel.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he added softly, as if reading your mind. But you could feel his own restraint slipping. He wasn’t just waiting for you to make a move he was with you, in this, completely

.

Without another word, you kissed him again, more urgent this time. As if there were no more time to waste.

You guided him toward the couch, your lips never leaving his. He groaned softly as you pushed him back against the cushions, your hands sliding lower, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his hands slipping under your skirt.

You were too far gone to care about anything else. Your hands worked quickly to undress each other, the tension crackling between you, a fire that could no longer be contained. His kisses grew more frantic, his body pressing up against yours as his hands roamed, seeking to memorize the feel of you.

You didn’t hesitate when you straddled him, your heart pounding as you aligned your hips with his. The moment was perfect, raw and full of desire. You were both past the point of pretending.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, voice a low rasp. His hands rested on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

“Yes,” you breathed, leaning forward to kiss him again.

His hands were everywhere now on your back, your waist, your thighs. You felt his pulse quicken beneath your hands, the need growing between you with every second.

And then, finally, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. The kiss deepened, his hands guiding you closer to him as he finally pulled you down, filling the space between you with nothing but passion, heat and the promise of something more.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Afterward, as the silence of the night wrapped around you both, you lay together in the quiet, his arm around you, his breath steady against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat slow, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“What now?” you asked, your voice soft, filled with uncertainty. You weren’t sure what the future held, but in this moment, you knew you didn’t want to let go.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We figure it out. Together.”

And just like that, you knew it wasn’t just about the secret kisses or the stolen moments anymore. It was about this. About finding something real in the space between the lines.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hey love! I've been in a bit of a depressive slump recently, it's just been hard to feel motivated to do things like get ready for work, or even to just feel joy some days. Would you be open to writing some hc's for the Stan twins comforting/taking care of their SO going through a depression slump?

I like to think that Stan would completely empathize with his SO, so to make sure you'd get out of bed and actually eat something he'd make a great smelling breakfast filled with your favorite foods. He sits next to you at the breakfast table instead of across from you so you can lean on him if sitting upright is too tiring. He's creative in his comfort, basically finding ways to trick you into doing things so they don't feel like Work on the days where just existing takes twice the amount of energy it normally does.

Ford would probably be more of a "problem solving" kind of partner. While he's had rough days, he's never really had an issue with motivation, but while he doesn't exactly understand what you're going through he'd still do anything to help. Making sure you're taking your meds, drinking enough water, opening the windows in the house if it's nice out enough so you get some natural sunlight and fresh air, etc. He'd track your bad days, keeping note of how long these periods last and how bad they get. He keeps a list of anything and everything that brings a smile to your face and will use it as a reference for when you feel like this and are in dire need of a pick-me-up!

STAN & FORD TAKING CARE OF YOU DURING A SLUMP

tags: hurt/comfort, depression mentioned, sfw

hi angel, im so sorry it’s taken me this long to answer your ask. i really hope you’ve been feeling a bit better lately. if you see this, please feel free to send me another ask just letting me know how you’re doing, no pressure at all but i hope you're alright there

STAN

you’ve gone quiet in the way that scares him most. Stan remembers it from his worst years, that ugly feeling made him start sleeping with the TV on just to hear a heartbeat that wasn’t his own. and now you’re here, looking like a hollowed-out version of the person he adores, and he’d do anything just to bring you back into yourself.

he knows what it’s like to disappear into a place so deep and gray inside yourself that you forget what your own voice sounds like. and it kills him to see you there, honestly. he’d rather take a punch to the gut than hear you say “i don’t know why i feel this way” with that sad look in your eyes which used to be so bright and alive before

he starts sleeping lighter, checking if you're still beside him, brushing his hand over your back, making sure you're close. you catch him sometimes in the middle of the night when he's sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Stan looks guilty. and you hate it because it's not even his fault. “you’re scaring me, baby,” he'd say with a sigh

and he touches you because he wants to let you know he's near. tugs your legs over his lap while you’re curled on the armchair, tucks his big calloused hand beneath your jaw. Stan kisses you to show his presence, not lust

if you’re shaking and can’t explain why, he’ll crawl into the bathtub with you fully clothed, he’ll cradle your head to his chest and just rock you, kiss your temple again and again, tell you about some dumb scam he pulled when he was twenty, whatever, just something to make you at least chuckle. anything to hear your laugh again. even a tiny one.

and when you finally sleep, soft hiccups fading against his chest, he doesn’t dare move. not even to wipe the tears that rolled down his face while you weren’t looking.

Stan doesn’t knock anymore. when your bad days stretch into bad weeks and the shower hasn’t been touched and your clothes are the same ones from thursday, he just pushes the door open and sits down with you on the floor, doesn’t say anything, there are no questions too. Stanley just lowers himself beside you, groaning because he's an old man with bad knees, and leans his weight against yours. “you don’t have to talk, but if you do, i’ll listen. if you don’t, i’ll still listen.”

he becomes a little sneaky in his love. that’s how he helps. you can’t get out of bed? fine. he doesn’t say “get up” he says “i need you to taste-test something” and appears five minutes later with a plate he’s poured his whole soul into, eggs and bacon just the way you like them, toast cut into triangles, sausage shaped into a smiley face. “don’t look at me like that, it’s just leftovers” although it's obvious that he tried too hard. if you sit up even a little to take a bite, that’s a win in his eyes. next thing you feel is him tucking his arm around your back and pulling you against his chest

when showering feels like climbing a mountain, it's never “go wash up” because Stan knows it doesn't work like that. but i think he might suggest taking a bath together, he will warm the water, light a candle if you’re into that kind of thing, and get in first so you don’t feel like you're doing it alone. he’ll wash your back with those huge hands, humming some old song under his breath. if he catches you crying into the crook of his neck, he’ll kiss the top of your head and say, “yeah. i know. me too sometimes.”

you could scream at him, go silent for hours, beg him to leave, but that won't work. he’d just shake his head, curl tighter around you, and mumble, “not leavin’. sorry, tough luck. you’re stuck with me.”

he protects you from yourself, on the days you haven’t left the house in too long, he’ll say “hey, we’re outta beer and i ain’t going alone, what if i get mugged by a bear?” and suddenly you’re walking with him to the corner store with the bright sun on your face. Stan is proud of himself he made the world a little bit less hostile just by standing next to you

if that doesn't work anymore, he won't try to cheer you up. Stan isn’t that stupid, he knows better than to try to outrun depression. “this ain’t forever, sweetie,” he whispers against your hairline, “but even if it was, i’d still stay.” but underneath all of that, he’s scared. he’s really fucking scared. because he knows what it felt like, to stare at the ceiling and wonder if anyone would notice if he didn’t wake up. and now it’s you, and he doesn’t know how to keep you above water except by climbing in with you, over and over again, until your fingers stop shaking.

and the sensuality feels different now. “still the most beautiful thing i ever laid eyes on,” he rasps, kissing your neck while you cling to him. “even when you feel like nothing.” he lays his forehead, resting against your belly like a man praying for spring.

and if you ever apologize “sorry i’m like this, sorry i’m not better, sorry i’m so much work” he really gets mad, not at you, but at the voice in your head feeding you that lie. will hold your chin so gently in his palm, look you dead in the eye and tell you that you ain’t broken, sweetheart. you’re just tired, and Stan gets that. but he got enough love for the both of you today, so don’t you worry

FORD

Ford is used to solving problems with equations but none of that works here. not when your eyes don’t meet his and Ford gets scared. so he adapts.

at first, he watches from the doorframe while you lie still in bed, not sleeping and not moving, Ford bites his nails, thinking what it can be. he writes down a dozen theories. sleep deprivation? serotonin imbalance? post-traumatic stuff?

Ford becomes gentle, so, so gentle his voice softens around you. he reads more psychology books than he ever did during his college years and. . . he tapes sticky notes around the Shack that say things like “drink water. you matter.” and “five minutes of sunlight counts. i’m proud of you.”

he learns to stop asking if you’re okay. instead, he says, “can i stay with you in this?” and he’ll lay with you all day if that’s what it takes.

Ford is more methodical in his concern, but don’t mistake that for coldness. he doesn’t pretend to understand exactly what you’re going through but he’s listening and taking notes. literally. it starts as a notebook he keeps tucked on his desk, where he logs things like “they smiled after i mentioned sea otters today” or “worse symptoms following three days without fresh air”

he builds little rituals for you, every morning, he places a glass of water by your bedside so you don’t have to ask. he opens the curtains enough so the light reaches your beautiful face and reminds your circadian rhythm that life still exists out there. he gently nudges vitamins toward your palm while rambling about something else entirely, about anomalies or some interdimensional cephalopods so you won't get suspicious and feel like he’s watching.

and when you haven’t smiled in days, oh Ford gets anxious, so damn anxious he starts pulling out old journals, flipping through dusty pages, looking for any weird magical object in gravity falls or psychological theory that might fix it, because he’s terrified of standing by and doing nothing. you might wake up one morning to a bouquet of ethereal flowers that he picked from the devil knows where, or a tiny blue creature in a jar because “oh this? i read that this species has calming bioresonances. thought it might help.”

Ford’s presence is consistent, he won’t overwhelm you with affection when you're not ready to accept it, but you’ll find signs of his care in every corner of the house, a heated blanket turned on before you wake, your favourite book left unfinished on the chapter you like, a softly played record from a time when things felt easier. and on nights when your brain feels loud and you can’t sleep because of these dumb thoughts, Stanford will climb into bed beside you. glasses off and hair still damp from the shower. he'll read aloud until you drift off by his side and he'll kiss your forehead whispering good night, darling

and in the weeks that follow, it’s not your smiles he celebrates but the creak of the bed when you sit up because it means you got a little bit more energy to move today. the way your fingers twitch when you reach for water. the rare days you touch him first. he treats them like astronomical events, writing them down. sweet heavens, it's the damn planets aligned today just because his darling looked him in the eyes, the stars must’ve thrown a celebration today, the whole universe tilted in his favor, Ford is happy.

he’ll play a song on the piano, pulling you toward him until you sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder, not having to say anything at all. the music is soft, beautiful, just like his six fingers, and Ford doesn’t ask for anything in return. he just wants you to feel safe, in whatever way you need.

when you finally kiss him again, he goes quiet because it means you're starting to feel better. your eyes soften again and you reach out for him, you know he’ll be waiting, as always. “you’re my priority, and i’ll be here. always.”

Ford pulls you into his lap, runs his fingers over your skin, and tells you about the stars, how even the coldest ones still shine. how light travels farther than sadness. how you, in this moment, exhausted and barely holding on, are still the brightest thing he’s ever seen. always ends up with you sobbing into his chest

Ford would travel to every version of this world just to find the one where you're happy

[ppyopulii]

🧵each minute/each second | ft. choi seungcheol

PREVIEW. You’re already shaking your head—no, no, no. “Seungcheol, don’t—you can’t just say that after what happened between us.” “And pray, do tell,” he raises an eyebrow. “What happened between us?”

FEATURING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE(S). childhood friends to second-chance ???, open-ended, angst, fluff LENGTH | WC. <15min | 2.1k EXPLICITS. cursing, mild descriptions of blood/organs used as metaphors

JAY’S MUSINGS. and who else to pair 17 CARAT with if not seungcheol? this is dedicated to cheollie: the embodiment of bold first impressions, unwavering reliability, and endless youth. thank you for understanding me through all the years of struggle and absence, and for letting me crawl back into your arms to listen to your music even after so long. a special dedication to @supi-wupi & @mylovesstuffs for beta-ing (and crying in the word doc) <3 YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. saved to library: seventeen // shining diamond by seventeen // paths by niki // cross ur mind by lyn lapid // see you later (in ten years) by jenna raine // 18 by one direction // sweet creature by harry styles

Everything that lies in your childhood bedroom has purpose.

Little trinkets line your drawer: an old worn stuffed calico cat given to you on your birthday some years ago, unfinished books with handmade bookmarks stuck somewhere between the middle and the end, trays full of sea glasses collected from beach trips—the list goes on, and that was only one corner of your beloved room.

There are posters of your favorite artists fighting for space across the wall closest to your bed. You’d run your fingers over all the cardstock a careless number of times, feeling the roughened edges of a band you’d practically seen shoot to stardom placed right next to the signage of an artist you’d only gotten into last year. Countless memories, all fond, laid bare in a place that watched you transform into the person you are today.

And of course, to top it all off, Choi Seungcheol sprawls across your bed as if he’s the substitute for your favorite nighttime comforter.

The sight of him, all clunky and awkward on your sheets, almost makes you laugh. Almost.

Because what he says to snap you out of your thoughts, frankly, kills any sort of laughter that springs alive in your throat.

“You didn’t tell me you were going abroad.”

In all your years of knowing Choi Seungcheol, you’ve never heard him so… betrayed. Sure, there were the times you’d cheekily cheat in a game of cards, or run to tag him on the playground only to scream for the game to end when he was about to get you back.

But this? This wasn’t a wound you could fix with a popsicle from the market down the street.

“I got a scholarship in the States,” you manage to croak out, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie. “Cheol, I—”

“You didn’t tell me.” Seungcheol says—accuses—again. “I thought you were going to Seoul University. I watched you submit your application. We opened the acceptance letter. What happened to that?”

We opened the acceptance letter. We. You swallow back the lump in your throat. “My parents—” “I’m debuting soon, and you’re leaving?”

You wince.

The letter that has forever cursed your relationship with Seungcheol sits pretty on your desk, its envelope torn neatly with the paper-cutter you use to scrapbook. The stark white color mocks you from where you’re perched against your drawer, arms now crossed tightly across your chest.

“Seungcheol,” you inhale sharply. “I have my reasons for not telling you, you know.” This seems to shut him up. Your childhood best friend shifts upright on your cushioned plushies. You exhale deeply, trying to steady your breath before continuing.

“I didn’t want you to try to argue with me.” Seungcheol opens his mouth to protest, but you’re quick to cut him off with a glare. “I know you, Cheol. You’d either fight me tooth and nail to stay here with you, or you’d wreak havoc trying to follow me across the world. And I didn’t want to worry you by giving you that choice. I knew what I was doing when I submitted my application to the States.”

He stands up so fast you jump, startled, your back hitting the wall with a soft thud. Seungcheol’s thick, raven black hair goes messy from the frazzled way he begins to run his hands through it.

“Did you?” he asks all of a sudden.

You blink. “Did I what?”

“Did you know what you were doing?” Seungcheol’s lips are a tight line, and you itch to reach out to smooth the crease that’s beginning to form between his eyebrows. “When you chose to leave, did you know what you were doing?”

“Don’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth.” Your back straightens, fingers trembling at your sides. “See, this is what I meant when I said I didn’t want to let you know. God, I should have never even thought of bringing it up to you. I should have just let everything play out. At least then we would have at least had a chance of being on good terms.”

“Does it even matter when in the end you’re just going to leave me behind?”

Something snaps in you. “You are not mine to leave behind!”

The shout echoes throughout your bedroom. It’s silent, before thundering steps can be heard outside your door and an urgent knocking begins.

“Come in,” you murmur, lowering the hands you’ve raised to tug on your hair.

A creak, and your younger sister’s head pops in, eyes wide with alarm. “Mama’s asking what’s going on. Why’re you two shouting?”

Seungcheol’s gaze has the nerve to soften at the sight of the little one. You turn away from the door, gulping with shame, while he goes to comfort the girl. “Hey Haeun, it’s okay. We’re just playing a game and got a little carried away, yeah?”

She nods, mesmerized by his soothing voice—a look and feeling you know all too well. “Okay! Can I join?”

“Haeun, not right now,” you sigh. “It’s—...we’ll be down soon, ‘kay? Just go tell Mama everything is okay.”

“Okay!”

When she leaves, you’re left with an achingly big stretch of silence, one so loud it almost has you covering your ears. You begin to trace the outline of Seungcheol’s hand that has started to rub circles into his shoulder. His eyes are shut, mouth drawn closed, and you wonder if there’s ever going to be a chance to rebuild what just collapsed.

“Seungcheol,” you finally say.

He hums, noncommittal, and a part of you shatters.

“I… I also didn’t tell you because—”

“No, it’s okay.” The finality of his words slam into you, breaking what hasn’t already been fragmented. “I don’t… I don’t think I need to know. I think I already know enough, even without you telling me.”

Seungcheol’s shoulder just barely brushes yours when he walks past you to your bedroom door, glancing back just once. His eyes dart around like he’s trying to memorize the living space of someone who’s already dead.

“Reach out if you need.”

And he’s gone.

You sink to the floor, burying your face in your hands and taking a shaky inhale.

I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose you before I left.

I didn’t tell you because I still want you.

I didn’t tell you because I love you.

The next time you see Choi Seungcheol, it’s against your will.

And you’re not even exactly sure if it… is him.

“Seungcheol!” your mother chirps from behind you; she elbows past, nudging you with a soft, behave, won’t you? “It’s been so long, honey. Come in, come in! You must have so much to tell us.”

The man steps into your foyer, bowing gratefully. His mop of blueberry hair falls forward into his eyes, and when he raises his head, those big brown eyes from before stare back at you—except this time, it’s different.

You can’t read them anymore.

The living room is full of noise, congratulations being passed around from the idol’s recent successful album hitting the top charts. Drinks are soon being poured, and questions flow from the mouths of your family, eagerly soaking up the warmth he brings to your maple-wood coffee table.

You, on the other hand, sit as mute as a quail, holding onto your mug of tea for dear life. Words barely register in your brain; you miss Seungcheol’s lingering gaze on your every so often between stories. Those unreadable eyes follow you as you excuse yourself to go upstairs, and this time you feel them scraping along your back, leaving figurative lines of blood down your skin as you bolt up to your bedroom.

It takes approximately 143 seconds for that familiar rapport to sound at your door.

A resounding knock, followed by three short ones in succession; you could recognize your childhood passcode simply from the vibration that your door gives off when Seungcheol would knock. For some reason—and you’d always make fun of him for it when you were younger—he would always put so much intent into his rhythms, tapping his knuckles with such purpose that it leaves you no other choice but to open the door for him.

Maybe that’s why he lies in your bedroom now, almost seven years later.

You two wordlessly sit on the rug in the middle of the room, him leaning against the footing of your bed and you against the drawers of your wardrobe. You pick at the blue fuzz, scrutinizing the nail polish that stained the fabric some years back.

He, of course, speaks first.

“You didn’t change anything.”

Seungcheol’s eyes are looking at you and you want to hide. You know your hair’s the same color; know you’re still wearing the same style of clothing that’s been most comfortable for you all these years. Sure, the States gave you a place to experiment and therefore become more confident in your own skin, but coming back to Korea had you easily reverting back to old habits.

Like easy banter with Choi Seungcheol.

“Couldn’t say the same for you,” you retort. “Never thought I’d see such a deep shade of blue in someone’s hair. ‘Specially you.”

“It looks good, doesn’t it?” He grins cheekily, and you almost want to laugh from the sheer confidence he’s accumulated over time.

Almost.

“How long are you here for?” you ask simply.

Seungcheol exhales. Squints up at the ceiling for a second.

“As long as you want me to be here for,” comes his simple answer.

You’re already shaking your head—no, no, no. “Seungcheol, don’t—you can’t just say that after what happened between us.”

“And pray, do tell,” he raises an eyebrow. “What happened between us?”

“I left for the States and you debuted,” you sputter back. “We—it’s been—I haven’t talked to you in years, and here you are, waltzing back into my bedroom like you own the place. Why are you here? Why aren’t you gone?”

Choi Seungcheol says your name and your lips press together in a whimper. It’s never sounded so vulnerable before, your name; so delicate and fragile to him, like he’s wishing upon a star.

“I waited for you to reach out to me, you know,” he mumbles. “Thought some time and space would help. You never did, though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I was young, and stupid—I didn’t know how to pick up after my mistakes. Still don’t know how to. I’m sorry.”

Your body seems to be betraying you, because before you know it, there are tears freely flowing down your cheeks; and for some reason, you can’t stop goddamn babbling.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid of you leaving before I could. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how to without falling apart. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m sorry for loving you. I—I think if I loved you any less we would still be best friends.”

Up until now you thought this Seungcheol was an imposter; someone who invaded your home by dressing up in that old beat-up hoodie he loved when he was younger and those dumb sweatpants you got ice cream on one time in high school. But now, being pulled into his embrace, it's like you’re back in your last year of primary school all over again, crying over getting accepted into Seoul University. Back before things changed. Before things and Seungcheol and everything but you changed.

“It’s okay,” is all he says, and that’s all you need. “It’s okay. We’re okay. We’ve always been okay.”

“No we haven’t,” you sob weakly into his chest. “Seungcheol, I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? Our lives, they’re ruined.”

“What do you mean?” He laughs softly. “Our lives have literally just begun. Y’know, there’s so much to tell you, and even more to experience with you moving forward. Don’t you think so?”

His words stir something inside of you. A wave of serenity washes over you, and you savor each minute, each second with it. You want to berate him, asking him how he got so mature in so little time. You also want to kiss him, toppling over into his arms and never letting go until the day you die.

Instead, you opt for a small sigh. One that you know Seungcheol picks up on and understands the meaning of.

“Catch me up, then,” you pout, settling into his arms with a newfound acceptance. “You at least owe me that much.”

He laughs, and the sound rivals any lyrics you’ve heard him sing in the past—it’s warm, strong and true. All things Choi Seungcheol.

“Alright,” he relents teasingly. “Now, where should I begin…”

back to your library.

[simmireen]

As the romance princess, I had to choose the romance theme from @theserenadeofshadows her prompt list to make for this Mermay!! 'they meet at the sea' 8 couple poses with a mermaid sim and a sim ♥ DOWNLOAD (Patreon) DOWNLOAD (SFS) ♥~♥ Clipping sadly is inevitable due to sim bodies/faces being different, or the clothing they wear, but I try my best to fit most of them. Be free to tag me at tumblr, insta or bluesky if you use my poses (@simmireen) You can find an overview of all my posepacks at Pinterest Want to commission me? > Ko-Fi page Terms of use Don’t claim as yours or put behind a paywall Don’t re-edit (adjusting hands is always allowed, just don’t change up my pose) Don’t reupload anywhere Please let me know if something doesn’t work!

@ts4-poses @sssvitlanz @alwaysfreecc

[yuujispunches]

Intimacy with Suguru Geto HC

Pairing: Suguru Geto x fem!reader

Summary: headcannons about what it would be like to be intimate with Suguru.

CW (content warning): talk about sex, mentions of oral sex (both f and m receiving), mentions of masturbation, praise kink, smut under the cut MDNI (+18), this is pretty much smut without any plot.

AN (author’s note): Hi! So this is my second time posting this because I accidentally deleted my original post because it wasn’t showing up on the tags and I was trying to fix it 💀 This one was requested, I’m currently working on another request as well as a Yuji one-shot. This was my first writing smut so please bare with me. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of character sI write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Intense and controlled.

Geto doesn’t rush, he absolutely loves taking his time with you. He’s methodical and deliberate, every touch is calculated to get the reaction he wants from you, taking his time to read your reactions watch the way you react to his touches, the way he can see goosebumps forming on your skin as he kissed down your body, hearing the sound you make. He likes control, not in a cruel way, but because he enjoys understanding you deeply and guiding the experience. He would never soy no to a quickie, but he definitely prefers taking his time.

Eye contact

As we said, Geto definitely loves watching you. He makes sure to lock eyes with you often, not just out of passion but because he wants to see everything: your pleasure, your hesitation, your trust. He loves just watching you, whether it was him making you get yourself off or even when you’re just in plain missionary. He definitely makes you look at him whenever you cum. It’s part of how he connects emotionally. And if you look up at him while you’re on your knees for him? Yeah he’s definitely a goner.

Soundproof.

It’s not like Geto is quiet but he’s not loud either. He lets out breathy moans in your ear, pants and heavy breathing heard in the room. He knows is presence alone is commanding, he doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel the weight of his desire or his authority. You’ll always feel watched, wanted, and chosen. One thing he does love is calling you pet names, specially Angel.

Praise.

Geto definitely has a praise kink, whether it’s hik praising you or the other way around. Even when he’s rough he’s moaning in your ear telling you how good you feel, how amazing you look or how good you’re taking him in. As your body tenses, legs trembling, breath catching, his voice stays with you low, steady, coaxing. “Just like that... you’re doing so well for me.” He’s proud of being the one that brought you so much pleasure, he almost holds it like it’s something sacred. And afterward, he kisses your knuckles, your cheeks, your thighs, grounding you as if to say: you are cherished, even here.

When you’re the one that praises him it never fails to make him loose it, even on the days where he’s rougher. All it takes is you telling him something among the lines of: “No one touches me like you do.” And he growls into your ear, low and dangerous: “Say that again.” He wants to hear it. Over and over. Wants you to tell him he’s better, that he’s all you want, that he’s the only one who can wreck you and hold you afterward. Because if he can be that to you, maybe he’s not completely lost.

Pace and exceptions.

As it was said before, Suguro loves taking his time with you, however there is one situation where he can’t control himself and that’s when he’s sent out on missions, being obligated to spend too much time away from you for his liking. He doesn’t speak. Just grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, dragging you back into his body like you might vanish if he loosens his grip. You try to ask how the mission went he cuts you off with his mouth and lifts you onto the nearest surface. His voice is rough when he finally speaks: “Later. I need you now.” He strips you fast, barely breaking eye contact, pupils blown wide. His hand closes around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw not tight, just enough to hold you in place. His other hand is already between your thighs, fingers slicking through your wetness as he mutters, “Look at you already ready for me. You missed this, didn’t you?”

Little reminders.

It’s not like he means to mark you, but when he sees the reminders of the night before on your skin he loves it. Geto's hands clutch your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, pace relentless. Your back arches, your hands claw at the sheets, and he holds you in place like he can’t risk letting you go. He’s panting now soft curses slipping from his mouth as your body tightens around him. You glance back, and the look in his eyes is wild not just aroused, but desperate. Like he’s trying to lose himself in you completely. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure that the day after you would have bruises of the shape of his fingertips.

And you were right. The next morning when you’re changing he catches a glimpse of the bruises on your hips and a few hickeys he didn’t even remember giving you here and there. He pulls you in by the waist, kisses them again, then whispers, “You wear me so well. Like you were made for this.”

Aftercare.

Geto always makes sure that you’re taken care of after the both of you are finished, although the way he does it depends on the kind of day he was having.

When he had a bad day once it’s over, he collapses beside you, breath ragged. He doesn’t say anything. But his arm slides around your waist and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. You feel the tension leave him, slowly, like your skin is the only thing keeping him tethered to the present. And even if he never says it, you feel it in the way his body curls into yours. After a while he gets up, getting a towel and cleaning you up throughly before getting back into bed with you, his arms holding you a bit tighter.

On the good days though he absolutely dotes, even running baths for you. He loved getting in the bath behind you and holding you. The water is warm, fragrant with oils, and he slides into the tub with you, pulling you back into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin rests on your shoulder, and for long minutes he says nothing, just kisses your damp temple and lets the silence be tender. His fingers rub small, slow circles over your hips. “You were perfect,” he murmurs eventually, breath warm against your skin.

tags: @chigiridrider1

Taglists are open so let me know if you want to be added! :)

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: Disagreement

Masterlist: Here

CW: Pregnancy stuff, minor jealous Harry (him and Patrick have an issue lol), smut (fingering, thigh fucking and dirty talk).

Word Count: 5.8K

A/N: We are getting closer to the twins arriving and I’m so excited, there’s only 2 parts left after this! Also if you don’t want to read the smut just skip the last section, you won’t be missing any details just the spice!✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift @prettygurl-2009 @blueleonor @daphnesutton @angeldavis777 @harryssunflower17 @blckburd @tinawritesstuff @inlikea-coolway @mothersversiononly

Summary: Harry asks you a question, feelings are discussed and the two of you spend a day in bed✨

There’s a silence in your apartment that has you feeling on edge as you sit at your kitchen table rubbing your lips together as your mind begins to shuffle through all the check lists you have full of things you need to finish preparing and buy before the twins arrive. You flick your eyes over towards your kitchen where Harry is standing with a hand on your counter and the other holding a green apple that’s placed on the same cutting board he’s been using ever since he started making your juices months ago. You can tell by the way his eyes are looking straight ahead and not at the fruit in his hand that he is lost in his thoughts, probably thoughts very similar to the ones racing through your own mind so you just allow the silence to linger for a few minutes longer before you decide to break it.

“What’s the first thing on your list?” You ask as your hands rest on top of your very big pregnancy belly that has you not able to do much of anything without assistance these days. Harry blinks a few times before shaking his head as if to clear his mind before turning his head to look over at you.

“Sorry did-what did you ask me?” You let out a chuckle at his confused expression as his grip on the apple tightens ever so slightly.

“Your list of things you feel like you need to get done before the twins get here.” You look down at your belly and give it a gentle rub with both hands before looking back at him. “What’s the number one thing you-”

“Figure out where you’ll be staying once they’re here.”

“What do you mean? I’ll be staying here. In my house.”

“Okay.” You watch him as he carefully decides how he wants to articulate his next question as he lets go of the apple and turns around so he can lean his back against the counter. “And uh am I allowed to-uhm possibly also stay here with you?” He doesn’t look at you as he fumbles his way through asking the question, instead his eyes are glued to a spot on the tile floor near your refrigerator.

“Gee let me think about this.” You tilt your head to the side and tap your chin with your pointer finger as Harry lifts his head to look at you with a quirked brow at your playful tone because he is on the verge of a panic induced sweat while you seem very calm. “Can my boyfriend who also happens to be my baby daddy who doesn’t really let me get more then five feet away from him without him shouting my name to see where I’m at stay with me after our twins are born?” You question as you act as if you’re mulling the idea over in your mind but the slight upturn of your lips tells Harry you’re trying to hold off a smile and that can only mean one thing. “Yes Harry. Of course you can stay here because I’m sure as hell not going to your house right away with all those-”

“Stairs. I know love.” He says with a smile as he walks over to where you’re sat at the table. “I’d like to point out I let you get at least ten feet away from me before I’m shouting for you.” You roll your eyes as he holds his hands out for you to take so he can help you out of the chair.

“I was right behind you the other day and you shouted-”

“Baby I couldn’t see you I don’t have eyes in the back of my head.”

“You still shouted-in a library of all places.”

“It wasn’t even a real shout it was just a loud whisper.” You glare at him while his hands rub the sides of your belly as the two of you stand in the middle of your kitchen. “That lady didn’t need to be so mean about it.” The moment the words leave his mouth he knows he has royally messed up, so he just braces himself for you to let him have it as his hands continue to rub at your belly, lightly scratching it through the fabric of your t shirt since he knows you’ve been a bit itchy lately.

“That lady? You mean the librarian who was just trying to do her job of keeping it nice and peaceful in a place people come to read and learn?” You let out a huff as you swat his hands away from your bump making him frown at bit at the loss of contact. “You’re dating one of those ladies Harry and you’re lucky she just gave you a harsh shush and didn’t kick you out.” Harry knows you wish so badly that you could just storm off and leave him standing in the kitchen to think about what he just said but you can’t, you haven’t had your juice yet and you can’t exactly get around very easy and have been relying on Harry’s annoyingly toned arms for support so you’re stuck in the small space with him, annoyed and dangerously on the verge of becoming hangry.

“I’m sorry love it won’t happen again.”

“I would’ve kicked you out.” You mumble in a half annoyed and half serious tone, not ready to acknowledge his apology you keep your eyes focused on your bump making Harry bite down on his bottom lip in order to fight off the smile that wants to form on his face at your stubbornness. “And ban you from ever being able to step foot in any public library in the country.” You add making a scoff slip out of Harry’s mouth as he tries to sneak his hands back to the sides of your bump without you noticing.

“Now sweetheart that’s a bit much don’t you think?” You just shrug as you try to shove his hands away but this time he doesn’t let you, keeping them firmly on the sides of your belly making you huff in annoyance. “That would mean I’d never be able to bring you lunch at work or take the twins to story time or-”

“They wouldn’t be banned.” You correct him, finally looking him in his eyes that are a soft shade of green that has you wanting to let out a soft sigh but you don’t because there’s a point to be made here and you refuse to be distracted by his big dumb eyes. “Just you.” Harry lets out a chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Well good thing you weren’t the librarian on duty then.” You roll your eyes as he leans in, and when you go to turn your head so his lips land on your cheek he pauses. “Come on Cranky gimme a kiss so I can get back to making your juice before you get really upset.” You let out a sigh as you turn your head allowing him to press his lips against yours for a quick and sweet kiss.

“I really would’ve kicked you out.” You mumble with a small pout as he pulls away with a smile on his face.

“I know.” He states as he leans in to press his lips to your forehead. “I love you.” You freeze as the words slip past his lips making him immediately pull away and take a step back from you with wide eyes and red cheeks, embarrassed he just accidentally let those words tumble out of his mouth so easily.

“You-”

“I uhm I meant I love them like-the twins yeah yeah I uh love them.”

“That’s not what you meant and that’s so not okay to say in the middle of an argument Harry that’s-that’s cheating.”

“What? How is that cheating? This wasn’t even an argument?”

“If it wasn’t an argument then why were you apologizing?”

“Because that’s-uh well that’s a good question.” You stare at him as he runs a hand through his hair as you try to come to terms with the fact he just casually admitted he loves you while in the middle of your kitchen. “So maybe this was just a disagreement over how I handled a situation in the library and also for me rudely referring to the librarian as just some lady so-so that’s why I was apologizing.”

“But do you know you were wrong?”

“I know you feel like I was wrong. Yes.”

“Harry.”

“Okay fine. Yes I know I was wrong and that’s why I was apologizing. I shouldn’t have shouted in the library and I should have more respect for librarians because I just so happen to be in love with one.” You feel your eyes well up as a lump forms in your throat as Harry stares back at you with a hopeful expression on his face.

“Does your therapist know you’re a cheater as well as a narcissist?” Harry lets out a chuckle and shrugs a shoulder as he reaches his hand out to grab yours that’s resting on top of your bump.

“I’m sure he’s well aware of all my flaws but I’ll ask when I talk to him next week.”

“Good.” You feel his hand cup the side of your face just as the first few tears fall from your eyes. “You really love me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re panicking over the fact we have five weeks until the twins are here and-and we haven’t even packed a hospital bag or-”

“Hey sweetheart look at me okay?” You swallow thickly as your eyes meet his. “I love you and I’m not telling you this because I’m in pre twin arrival induced panic.” He gives you a smile as you sniffle and try to blink back a new wave of tears. “I’m telling you this because it’s how I feel or- how I’ve felt ever since you let me take you on that horrible first date a month ago and you know I’ve always been bad with timing and-”

“I love you too Harry.” Your voice is watery and the tiniest bit squeaky as it cuts off his rambling but Harry doesn’t mind, all he can focus on is the fact you’re saying it back.

“Yeah? You’re not just saying that so I’ll go and make your juice?” He teases as a grin spreads across his face making his dimples pop out.

“No I’m saying it because it’s how I feel. Besides I can make my own juice.”

“You can?”

“Yes I’ve done it before.”

“What? When?” His eyebrow raise as he looks over at the relatively large knife resting on the cutting board next to the apple he left on it. “I don’t like the idea of you using knives when I’m not around. I know that sounds-”

“Harry.” He turns to look back over at you as you reach over and cup his face with both of your hands. “Don’t ruin the moment.” He smiles as you pull him down for a kiss as his hands fall to your hips.

“Won’t happen again love.”

“Oh I’m sure it will.” You joke as you give his cheeks a small squeeze before dropping your hands from his face. “Also that was quite a declaration of love you just made- have you been reading my romance novels?” You ask making him roll his eyes as he turns to head back into your kitchen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laugh as you watch him grab the knife and begin cutting up the apple.

“Whatever you say.” You stand there for a moment, looking over your shoulder to the chair you were just sat in and then through the doorway of your kitchen towards your couch.

“Harry can-” before you can finish your sentence Harry is by your side with his arm out for you to grab onto so you can begin walking towards the living room.

“Comfy?” He asks after helping you get situated on the couch. You just nod making him smile as Paris walks into the room causing his bell the jingle having woken up from his mid morning nap he no doubt took in his new favorite spot, the middle of the rug in the twin’s nursery.

“Paris your stepdad told me he loves me in the middle of an argument.” Harry playfully rolls his eyes as he leans over and presses his lips to the top of your head before turning to go back into the kitchen.

“Wasn’t an argument Paris it was a disagreement.” He corrects, Paris pauses to watch Harry disappear into the kitchen before he turns to walk over to where your feet are propped up on the coffee table with a pillow underneath them.

“Want to snuggle with your mom?” You asks the orange colored cat who just purrs as he leaps onto the couch and instantly plops down next to you so his back is firmly pressed against your hip. “Oh Paris things are about to get a little crazy around here.” You tell him with a sigh as the sound of Harry chopping fruit and the gentle purrs of your cat start to gently lull you to sleep.

This is something Harry has gotten quite used to, you just randomly dozing off for a quick Power Nap while he’s off doing something in another room. So he just smiles and places a kiss to your forehead when he walks back into the living room a few minutes later with your juice in one hand and a bowl of grapes in the other, not wanting to disturb your morning nap so he just puts your goodies on the table next to the armrest of the couch and picks up Paris so he can place him in his lap after sitting down next to you.

“Your mom loves me too mate so that means no more biting.” He whispers to the orange ball of fur currently curled up in his lap. “Or at least start biting my other ankle.”

“Love?” You turn your head at the sound of Harry entering your bedroom, when you get a good look at the sweatshirt he has on you bring a hand up to cover your mouth to hide your laughter. “What’re you giggling at over there?” He asks as he walks over to what has now become his side of the bed, the one closest to the door claiming it’s so he can rush off and go grab whatever you need in the middle of the night but you know it’s one of his safety things.

“Nothing I just really like your shirt that’s all.”

“Do you really? I picked it myself.”

“Oh that much is very obvious.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He questions with a quirked brow as he looks down at the front of his sweatshirt. “It says daddy.” You just nod as you try to get comfortable, Harry looks over at you as you roll over so you’re facing his side of the bed.

“I’m aware of what it says Harry I do know how to read thank you very much.” You say with a huff as you fluff your pregnancy pillow a bit before resting your head on it.

“I don’t get why it had you in a giggle fit? It says daddy and I’m going to be a daddy.” You let out another round of giggles as he gets on the bed after kicking off his shoes.

“I’m just curious have you been wearing that all day?” You wonder as he scoots over so his arm is resting on the side of your pregnancy pillow.

“Yes because you keep it bloody freezing in the house thanks to your-”

“You’re the reason I’m dealing with hot flashes so don’t be sassy about how cold it is in here.”

“Right. Of course.” He gives you an apologetic look as you reach over and flick him in the shoulder. “But yes I wore it to run a few errands and went to see Niall at the studio.” He answers making you just rub your lips together as his hand finds your wrist and begins tracing little circles on it with his thumb while he holds his phone in his other hand and is scrolling through his emails.

“You ran errands and went to the studio in a sweatshirt that says daddy on it?”

“Yes now can you tell me why that’s an issue?”

“It’s not an issue but does Mr. Popular really not understand how funny it is that he was seen walking around in a shirt that just says the word daddy on it in big block letters? I mean come on you-”

“Oh.” You watch Harry place his phone down on his chest as the realization hits him. “Well I mean-I can’t help what people call me and-and the sweatshirt is soft and I’m not ashamed to wear it.” You just give him a smile when he looks over at you.

“It’s cute.” You tell him making him smile as he leans over to place a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re cute.”

“Thank you-oh guess what I finally got today.” Harry’s thumb pauses its tracing on your wrist as he takes a quick look around the bedroom for any signs of what you could’ve gotten while he was out running errands.

“Uh did you pick their coming home outfits?”

“Without the opinion of their ultra fashionable daddy? I’d never.” The glare he sends you makes you laugh. “But it does have to do with the twins.” You tell him as he gives the room another subtle scan and his eyes go wide when he sees it, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room is a black backpack with the name “Styles” embroidered in white on it in a pretty cursive font.

“Holy shit.” He says out of shock making you reach down with your free hand and place it over your bump as you playfully glare at Harry.

“Harry Styles watch your language in front of the children.”

“Sorry but you finally picked a diaper bag? You’ve been looking for one for months.”

“I just wanted to make sure it was going to something that I could use for years and wasn’t too bulky.”

“You mean like that monstrosity you call a purse?” He questions as he leans over to place his phone on his nightstand.

“You’re the only one who hates my-”

“Nope not even close to being true my love because tons of people hate your purse I’m just the only one willing to be honest with you about it.”

“Whatever.” You huff making Harry lean over to he can place little kisses to your cheek until you let out a giggle. “You’re lucky I like you because I got you one too.” He smiles against your cheek as you tilt your head so his lips are now hovering above yours.

“Oh come on sweetheart we both know you love me.” He murmurs against your lips before capturing them in a sweet kiss.

“Sorry it doesn’t say daddy though.” You say with a smile when he pulls away making him let out a groan as he rests his forehead against yours.

“M’never gonna hear the end of this am I?”

“Nope.”

Harry sits up and crosses his arms over his chest as he turns and glares at your side of the bed, not at you but at the plush object you’re currently cuddling with as you lay on your side with a book in your hand. Your pregnancy pillow has somehow worked its way onto Harry’s list of things he can’t stand, now he’s happy you’re comfortable he wants you to be as comfortable as possible but he hates how the soft plush pillow gets in the way when he tries to snuggle with you. He can’t even fully get his hand on your bump when laying on his side at night before going to sleep, the pillow wedged between the two of you. Now he knows he’s being a tad bit silly and dramatic but in this moment when all he wants to do is cuddle up with you while you read your new book, he doesn’t really care how dramatic he seems.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Harry lets out a sigh as you turn the page of your book, not bothering to look over at him.

“Do you really need this right now?” He asks as he pokes the side of your pillow making your eyes glance down to the spot his finger just jabbed.

“Yes I need him.” You answer as you go back to reading while Harry just stares at you with a raised brow.

“Him? Your pillow is a him? Tell me you didn’t name him.”

“I did. His name is Patrick.”

“Patrick? Why-why would you name it?”

“Because it felt weird to cuddle with something and it not have a name so I named him Patrick the pillow but you can just call him Patrick.” You explain once again without looking up from your book, you just snuggle deeper into the pillow making Harry let out a huff.

“Well isn’t Patrick for sleeping? You’re not sleeping.”

“Keep talking and that’ll change in a few minutes.” You tease dryly causing Harry to send you a glare that you don’t even notice due to how intently you’re focusing on the book in your hand that you checked out from the library a few days ago and sent Harry to go pick up for you.

“Baby.” He doesn’t mean to sound so whiny as he leans his head back so it’s resting against the headboard of the bed. “I just want to cuddle and he gets in the way and you don’t even seem to care.”

“You’re the one who bought him for me.”

“Well yes but-”

“But now you want me to kick him out? That’s rude.”

“He was bought before we started sleeping together-as uhm as in we sleep in the same bed together not that we sleep together even though we-we have done that as well but the point is Patrick has got to fucking go.” About halfway through his little rant you lift your head and close your book sliding it to the middle of the bed, you look at him with a small smile on your face as he fumbles his way through explaining his frustrations with your pregnancy pillow.

“You really don’t like Patrick?” Harry looks over at you as you begin to try and sit up.

“I don’t like how he gets in the way when I’m trying to cuddle you and now you’ve gone and named him so it’s-it’s weird having Patrick in the middle of us when I’m trying to-”

“Spoon me?” He lets out a huff and sends you a playful glare that makes you laugh as you reach your hand out for him to take. “And is that what you’re wanting to do right now?”

“Is it so wrong that I want to spend a day in bed cuddling my girlfriend?” He asks as he takes your hand so you can give it a little squeeze.

“Of course not.” You say with a smile as you let go of Harry’s hand so you can maneuver yourself to where your feet are dangling off the side of the bed. “Now help me up so I can go get a snack while you get rid of Patrick.” Harry is already getting out of bed and walking to your side by the time you’re done talking.

“No more grapes okay? You’ll give yourself a tummy ache.” He tells you as he helps you up, you just roll your eyes as your hands rub the top of your belly.

“So bossy.” You mumble on your way out the door making Harry chuckle as he hears the sound of Paris’s bell jingling letting him know the cat is following you to the kitchen, leaving his napping spot in the rocking chair in twin’s nursery.

“Sorry Patrick.” Harry tells the pregnancy pillow as he grabs it off your side of the bed. “But you’ve gotta go mate.” He says as he tosses it in the closet before shutting the door.

What feels like half an hour later but is really just ten minutes later Harry’s face breaks out into a grin when you waddle your way back into the bedroom licking your lips and carrying your water bottle. He is laying on his side of the bed, now in just a tank top and athletic shorts having ditched his sweatshirt since he knows you tend to always run a little hot and he doesn’t enjoy sweating while trying to get some quality cuddle time with you. You give him a smile as you place your water bottle on your nightstand and sit down on the edge of the bed with a small huff.

“And what did you three agree on for a snack?” He asks as you swing one leg at a time onto the bed, Harry has to practically hold his hands together to stop himself from reaching over and helping you but he knows if you want his help you’ll ask or simply look at him with that dramatically adorable pout. He knows you’re trying to still be as independent as possible without pushing yourself too far so even though it nearly kills him, he will politely sit and watch you take a few minutes to get comfortable on the bed.

“A slice of watermelon and two bites of cantaloupe.” You answer as you roll over to your side so you’re facing your nightstand. Harry takes your queue and wastes no time in scooting over and laying down next to you on his side.

“I thought you didn’t like the cantaloupe? Said it was too sweet?”

“I forgot.” You admit making Harry let out a chuckle as one of his arms slides under the pillow your head is on and his other wraps around your middle so his hand is resting on your belly. “But that’s why I only had two bites and not the whole container.” You explain with a yawn as Harry places a kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“I love you.” He whispers into your ear as he moves so your back is up against his front earning him a soft sigh of content from you.

“I love you too.” He knows by the way your voice sounds that you’re only a few minutes away from falling asleep so before he gets too comfortable he reaches towards the end of the bed and grabs the thin throw blanket and tosses it over the lower half of the two of you because he knows your feet and legs will get cold since you’re just in maternity bike shorts and an oversized t shirt. And even though it might not look it given how he tossed Patrick in the closet for the afternoon, he still wants you to be as comfortable as possible while cuddled up in his arms.

Harry is curled up behind you, his hand gripping your hip keeping you pressed together, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. It’s not that he tries to intentionally wake you up, but he has his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and he can’t help himself when he places a kiss to the spot below your ear earning him a small giggle from you. He smiles against your sensitive skin and it’s not until you begin to stir and arch your back making your backside press against him that he realizes just how much he’s been enjoying having your warm body pressed against him during your mid day nap.

He knows you can feel him begin to harden as you unconsciously press yourself against him again as you stretch your limbs. The breathy sigh he lets slip passed his lips has you pausing as his hand on your hip tightens its grip ever so slightly. He’s prepared to slide out of the bed and head to the bathroom to deal with his growing issue, not wanting to disturb your post nap bliss. But when you place a hand over his on your hip and slowly drag it up to slide under the waistband of your bike shorts his hips jerk making him let out a moan that’s muffled by his face still being nestled in the crook of your neck at the pleasant friction he gets from his shorts against his now fully hardened length.

“You’re so warm.” He says softly, his breath hot against your neck as his hand slowly travels down over your hip and under the band of your panties letting him feel your skin against his fingers. “And soft.” He mumbles as his hips grind against your backside causing a tiny gasp to leave your lips.

“Harry.” You say with a sigh, voice still slightly thick with sleep but now mixed with a burning need that has you instinctively pressing yourself back against him.

“Can I take these off baby?” He asks, breathing into your ear, when you just nod he doesn’t waste any time before he’s sliding your shorts and panties down your legs until you can kick them off letting them land on the floor. You reach a hand behind you and give the band of his athletic shorts a small tug letting him know you want them off which he quickly does and soon you’re letting out a soft breathy moan when you feel him gently lift your top leg so he can slide himself between your thighs.

“God you feel so good.” He lets out a moan at how good the friction of being nestled snuggly between your warm soft thighs feels against his length.

Slowly he begins to move his hips, gliding against the silky heat of your skin. The friction sends waves of pleasure pulsing through his body, each thrust is slow and deliberate, as if he doesn’t want the intimate moment between the two of you to end too soon.

“Fuck baby- I love feeling you like this.” He moans, his voice strained as his hips maintain their rhythmic pace, his cock sliding smoothly between your thighs.

His grip gently tightens on your hip as he pulls you closer against him, intensifying the sensation. He hears your breath hitch as his fingers slip down until his thumb is gently circling your sensitive bud, matching the slow pace of his thrusts.

“Harry please.” You beg as you press yourself firmly against his hand, seeking more of his touch. He knows what you need from him so he moves his hips faster and adds a bit more pressure to your clit. “Need-oh god.” He doesn’t let you get the rest of your request out before he’s slipping two fingers inside your warm center making a deep moan of pleasure bubble up from his chest when you grind down hard onto his hand, your backside meeting his hips.

“That’s what you needed isn’t it baby?” He whispers breathlessly before placing a kiss to the side of your neck, nipping at the spot below your ear. “Fuck-you’re so wet and-shit so warm I can feel you squeezing my fingers.” Your thighs clench tighter around him as he thrusts his fingers deeper inside your wetness while he continues giving your clit gentle circles with his thumb.

Harry lets out a groan as his hips begin moving faster, losing himself in the intoxicating rhythm, his fingers matching the pace making your eyes shut as he feels you tighten around his digits that are tucked inside of you.

“H-Harry I’m so-oh I’m close.” Your words have his thrusts becoming urgent and fervent, driven by pure instinct and passion. He pumps his fingers in and out of you with a new found determination, needing you to get your release before he can get his own.

“Just let go for me sweetheart. Make a mess all over my fingers.” He urges tenderly before his lips attach to your neck.

When his thumb adds more pressure to your clit you begin moaning his name as you let the pleasure overtake you in waves, your body is arching into Harry’s embrace as your climax leaves you slightly overwhelmed. The tightening of your thighs and the way you’re clenching around his fingers sends Harry spiraling over the edge, his release spilling warmly onto your thighs as his body shudders with an intense wave of pleasure.

“Shit.” He breaths heavily as your hand wraps around his wrist to stop his thumb from rubbing at your sensitive bundle, he slowly removes his fingers from inside you making you let out a soft sigh. He lifts his head just enough so he can bring his glistening digits up to his mouth, he can’t help the moan that leaves him as he tastes you on his tongue.

“You’re so dramatic.” You say with a giggle as you turn your head so you can get a better view of Harry’s face just as he takes his fingers from his mouth with a pop.

“Can’t help it I like the way you taste.” He tells you with a smile as he leans down to place a kiss to your lips.

“You made a mess.”

“Oh I made a mess? I think you meant to say we made a mess.”

“Now we need a shower and new sheets.” Harry just lets out a chuckle as his hand goes to the hem of your t shirt, slowly sliding under it letting him feel the softness of your belly.

“Might as well finish getting undressed then.” He whispers against your lips, his hand going higher until he’s cupping one of your bra covered breasts.

“Did you have another sex dream about me or something? What’s got you all horned up?” You tease as he gives your breast a soft squeeze when you turn your head to look over at the clock on your nightstand that lets you know your nap was a little over an hour.

“You’re just-so fucking sexy I can’t help it.” He answers as his lips kiss their way down your neck. “But let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll change the sheets.” He gives your shoulder a kiss over the fabric of your t shirt before he slides his hand out from underneath it, he sits up as you roll over to your back.

“I love you.” Harry grins as you stare up at him with a smile on your face, when his eyes meet yours he finds himself almost getting lost in them.

“I love you too.” He says as he leans over so he can place a kiss to the top of your head. “Now come on let’s get you in the shower before you start to get cranky from missing your post nap snack.” This has you rolling your eyes but the smile doesn’t fall from your face and Harry knows it’s because you know he’s right. And in someway it has your heart wanting to melt because he knows you so well and despite all your little moody moments and the need to have eight snacks a day, he still loves you and you love him just as much.