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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 day ago

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Twelve Days: Part 2^**

In days 5-8 Y/N confronts her sister about her behavior. The tension between Harry and Y/N starts to grow as they continue spending more time together after hours until it's just impossible not to address it. READ PART 1 HERE

Warnings: infidelity, break ups, mentions of depression and anxiety and their symptoms, mentions and use of alcohol and drugs, breast/ nipple play, dry humping

WC: 7.1K

Day Five:

When you woke up the following morning you were alone in the bed which definitely was for the best because you felt really guilty for the night before. Yeah, you hadn’t actually gone through with anything terrible, but you two had crossed a boundary that shouldn’t have been crossed. Maybe it was because you were both a little heartbroken over the things that you were going through personally, but ultimately, that didn’t really justify anything.

Despite the very successful night of sleep you’d had, you felt a little unwell. Your stomach felt funky and your thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. You didn’t want to get out of bed today even though you knew that a walk around the neighborhood would help you feel a little less gross, both physically and mentally. It seemed like a great day to just be lowkey and rot and then your door creaked open and you sat up to see your mom peering in.

“Sorry, I thought you’d still be asleep. Was just seeing if your sister had stayed with you or something.” She explained with a worried expression on her face.

“No. I was alone. All night.” You added with a nervous lump in your throat.

“Hmmm…did she say anything to you last night?”

“No. But she was out with Claudia, she’s not here?”

“She is, but she said they came back together.”

“Maybe she went out for a walk or a run. I saw her the other day when I went out.” You explained and she nodded and left.

The logical thing to assume was that she had spent the night with that guy she was sleeping with. Doing this on a family trip was a new low. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so bad for having the hots for Harry because she was out with another guy! That alone was enough to motivate you to get out of bed and you called your sister while you paced around your room back and forth waiting former to pick up.

“Hello?” She hummed happily and you sighed.

“Where are you? Everyone’s freaking out!” You whisper shouted, trying not to sound too angry with her because you technically weren’t supposed to know what was actually going on.

“I went to have breakfast with a friend! I left a note by the door!” She said and you sighed, “I’ll be back in like an hour tops.”

“Why didn’t you text Harry back then?”

“I didn’t want to text him and wake him. You guys did a lot yesterday and he was pretty tired. I got back late and slept in Claudia’s room.” She fibbed and you hummed.

“Well just…hurry back.”

“Yeah. Bye!” She said and hung up quickly.

You got your slippers on and headed out to the kitchen where your mom was making coffee for everyone.

“She answered my call. She’s out at breakfast with a friend who’s also here, I guess.” You said and just like that, the crease between your mother’s brows was ironed out.

“Oh, thank god.”

“She said she left a note by the door.” You said and your aunt hurried over and was soon back in sight with a piece of paper.

“I may have missed it in my panic!” Claudia chuckled and your dad rolled his eyes.

“Well, what do you guys want to eat?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t care, I just want some mimosas.” Harry said and headed to the fridge to get the champagne.

“Excellent idea!” Your dad exclaimed happily and you smiled and started heading back to your bedroom.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Harry asked.

“Just gonna wash up and get dressed.” You informed and he smiled and got back to his task.

Despite her promise to return in an hour or so, your sister was not back until nearly two in the afternoon. Your parents were inside watching a movie with your aunt and you and Harry were pretending to play tennis. Pretending because you had no idea what you were doing, you were just winded from all the back and forth. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. You and Harry were laughing about you accidentally hitting the ball over the fence when your sister came out to the back and towards the pool house. Suddenly the laughter died down and Harry headed towards you.

“I should go talk to her.” He said and you bit your lip for a second.

“Ummm…let me.” You said, “I can get her to tell me the truth and then talk a little sense into her.”

“You shouldn’t have to…”

“I know. But this is super fucked up and everyone’s all confused and she’s just going to yell at you, so let me try.”

“Alright.” He agreed and you nodded once before heading towards the pool house.

You did feel extremely nervous as you reached for the door handle but you had to talk some sense into her. It seemed that she was just over pretending to be happy and didn’t care how it all came out. However, you knew that your sister actually really cared for how she was outwardly perceived, so this was extremely out of character for her. As soon as she heard the front door open she sighed.

“Spare me the argument, Harry. He’s gone.” She called out as you rounded the corner.

“Who’s gone?” You asked and she quickly turned around from walking over to the bathroom.

“No one. Just a friend Harry’s jealous of.” She mumbled with a shake of her head.

“Mmm…some friend that must be because Harry’s not the jealous type.” You said as you sat on the corner of the bed. Showing her that you had no intention of leaving any time soon.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I’ve known the guy for almost 10 years, Julie! It takes a lot to upset him. Him not being the jealous type was one of the things you really liked about him when you were dating. You told me about it many times.” You reminded her. “You’ve got everyone thrown for a loop with how you’ve been acting.”

“Oh my god…don’t make this a thing.”

“I’m not! This is very much a thing already. What is going on, huh?” You pressed and she sighed.

“Nothing, Y/N! Just mind your business.”

“What’s really going on?” You pressed and she groaned.

“You wouldn’t even understand so just stay out of it, Y/N!” she raised her voice.

“Try me.” You said simply and her anger seemed to dissipate and she just stood there for a second, genuinely giving it some thought. And then her eyes started welling up.

“I can’t.” She said and you frowned.

“Why not?” You questioned.

“Because you’re going to think so badly of me.” She said and you frowned.

“Jules, I’d never judge you.” You said sincerely and she sighed. “Look ummm…Harry, h-he told me about you.” You said carefully and her jaw dropped as her tears started to fall. She quickly sat beside you and started sobbing, so you pulled her into your side. It was strange for you but you wanted her to know that this mistake she had made wasn’t enough to make you not love her. Despite your slightly complicated relationship, she was important to you and you wanted nothing more than the best for her. “It’s okay…” you assured her.

After she calmed down some, you grabbed her Stanley for her and let her drink a bit as you grabbed some toilet paper so that she could blow her nose. She let out a long exhale and then let herself fall back onto the mattress.

“I’m a major demisexual and I’m in love with someone else and yes, I’ve been…having an affair with him.” She confessed.

“For how long?” You asked.

“There’s been three separate times.” She explained, “The first time Harry and I had been dating a few months and ummm…it happened at a work party and it went on for about a month. It ended because Harry caught us a friend’s wedding and he dumped me for a few days for it. Then again, right after Harry and I got engaged.” You frowned as you heard this, “And that one lasted like four months.” She explained and your jaw slightly dropped upon hearing this. “I know…and it just…it fucked me up! I started to doubt and was sort of on the fence until we were like three months away from the wedding! I just, I was trying to find the courage to end it with Harry.” she cried and you nodded as you listened, “And then it was the month before the wedding and I missed my period.” Julie explained and you nodded. “By that point Joey and I hadn’t seen each other for three months! Because he had given me an ultimatum and that’s what made me decide to leave Harry. But yeah, then that happened and I just…felt like it was a sign to stay.” She shrugged.

“So…what happened with that?” You asked carefully.

“Nothing. I mean, I was just late. Probably stress from the wedding and the decision I was making with Harry…and I think I had started on birth control a few weeks prior, so yeah, it was just a late. But I still took that as a sign, you know and I stayed with Harry. I didn’t talk to Joey all this time until last year. I decided that maybe being friends on social media would be alright after all those years. Like we were such good friends and I did miss that. But obviously, that was a slippery slope and here we are… and I mean, I’ve loved him all this time. But I’ve also loved Harry enough to stay. But then when Joey and I started talking again that love for Harry was gone.” She said sadly. She brought her hands up to her face and groaned into them. “I’m such a horrible human being! I’m a piece of shit!”

“You’re not, Jules. You did a horrible and shitty thing, but you’re not that.” You assured her. “If you don’t love Harry anymore then why don’t you just get divorced?” You asked.

“This is what I hate myself for most!” She cried. “I just know that…leaving Harry is not the best option for me. Joey is flighty and kind of a fuck boy! But he still cares about me. So then I think if I show him that I am that committed to him he won’t be so afraid of trying with me for real.” She explained and you wanted to laugh. That was maybe the most delusional thing you had ever heard in your life. You felt so bad for her.

“I know how fucking delusional that makes me sound! Trust me, I know! That’s why I haven’t left Harry. Because logic is completely out the window right now! And I mean, m-maybe with time I’ll fall for Harry again? I mean, I did once before…” she explained as the tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry.” You said lowly.

“Don’t be…I did this to myself.” She sniffled. “And now I’m dragging one of the best persons in the world down with me.” She whimpered before she started to cry again. “I know I’m being selfish but I’m so scared!” She broke down again and you pouted.

“I know how scary it is to be alone, but you’re going to punish Harry for it and I don’t need to tell you how unfair that is. You get both things and he gets nothing? I mean, you both deserve the chance to be with people that make you happy.” You reasoned.

“Yeah…I know.” She whimpered before letting out another sob.

She continued crying for several more minutes before she had calmed down. You were gently rubbing her back as she was turned away from you. You could sense her shame, is was so great that it was suffocating the both of you.

“Look, I think you need to have a nice relaxing shower. Wash the day away, yeah? And I can make you a really great cocktail and then we can watch Mean Girls.” You suggested and she rolled over and gave you a confused look.

“That’s not a Christmas movie!” She exclaimed. Your family also had a rule that during the Christmas season you could only watch Christmas movies with another member of the family.

“I’m talking about the real, iconic version. Like it’s not entirely Christmas-y but it does contain one of the most iconic Christmas scenes in cinematic history and that alone makes it Christmas-y enough!” You defended and she smirked.

“You’re ight. Love that movie.” She hummed and you smiled.

“I know.” You responded.

“Well, it sounds like a plan.” She said with a smile.

“Alright.” You confirmed.

“On your way out can you send Harry in? I should apologize.” She decided and you nodded and got up to go.

Harry was sitting on one of the pool chairs when you emerged from the pool house and he instantly sat up and glanced around to see you approaching. He looked a little nervous and you offered a small smile to reassure him some.

“She told me the truth.” You said and he looked surprised, “I know. And ummm, she asked if you’d give her a few, she wants to apologize.” You said and his features softened.

“Yeah, of course.” He said and immediately sat up.

“Good luck in there.”

“Thank you.” He smiled as you went your separate ways. Despite how badly you wanted to eaves drop in hopes for some indication of how the supposed apology was going, when you got to your bedroom you decided to have a shower instead.

By the time you were out and making the cocktails, Harry was also arriving at the kitchen from his bedroom, freshly showered.

“Can you add a bit more f’me? I’m gonna watch the film with you two.”

“Oh, sure!” You agreed easily. “So it’s good with you guys?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” He assured and you were pleased with that.

And truly, for the rest of the day everything was great. It honestly felt like the tension between them that you’d sensed this entire time had evaporated and you hoped that it would stay that way for the remainder of the trip.

Day Six:

It had been a really fun day with your family. You’d decided to go to the outlets, and on the way back stopped at the casino where you’d actually won nearly $1,200, just your luck. And then had an excellent dinner with everyone before you got back to the house. Despite your busy and exciting day, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling. To be fair it was only around 10pm, but you’d had a very long day. And then, the sound of a few quiet knocks on the door made you smile.

“Yeah?” You spoke up and Harry peeked into the bedroom with a smile on his face as well.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.” You mumbled. “Come in.” You said and he hurried in and closed the door quietly.“Wanna smoke a bit?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yes, please.” He hummed with zeal and you chuckled as you got out of bed. You tended to get hot in bed, so you always wore something more revealing on top and some long bottoms. It was currently cool in the room though and the thin, baby blue tank you were wearing was leaving nothing to the imagination, so it was no surprise that Harry did a double take before quickly looking down at his phone.

“I’m gonna grab a sweater, s’cold out. Can you grab the weed? There’s a little black bag from the dispensary in the bedside drawer.” You instructed and he nodded. You hurried into your closet and grabbed the first one you saw and grabbed your lighter from your purse as you hurried out. And soon you and Harry were positioning the chairs so that the edge of the roof didn’t obstruct the view of the starry sky.

“Just pick what you want.” You said and he started looking through the bag and pulled out a more indica heavy blend. “Ooh, good choice. But we’ll definitely need snacks. And water.” You said and he grinned.

You made a quick trip to the kitchen and grabbed some cereal and milk because you figured that it would satiate the munchies and also hydrate you to counteract the cottonmouth. And with that settled you were finally passing the joint back and forth and staring up at the sky. You had been talking about TV shows and things you’d read, music you were into at the moment, it was really nice and comfortable with him. And after a moment of silence Harry turned to you.

“I have to ask…” he said and you turned to look at him and nodded, “Ummm, the day when you…walked in on me?” He asked and you nodded nervously, “Did you see everything?” He asked and your groaned and looked away bashfully and he chuckled. “No point in lying about it…” he said and you turned back, face beet red as you faced him.

“I didn’t. I promise!” You insisted.

“Okay…” he hummed, still in slight disbelief.

“It’s true!” You pressed once more.

“I’m just teasing you.” He grinned.

“Well stop, it’s making me feel bad all over again!” You chuckled and he chuckled along with you.

“Don’t feel bad. I understand the curiosity just gets you sometimes.” He said and you hummed and shrugged in agreement.

“So…what’s next for you. I-if you guys end things?”

“I don’t know…I’ve been approached about a tenure track opening at the university and I’m trying to decide if it’s worth it.” He said and you nodded in agreement.

“I know I could go back home…work at my alma mater…be closer to my family…”

“But?”

“In a way, going back would feel like defeat. Like I just wasted all of this time.” He said and you felt sad for him as he confessed this.

“Well, you got offered a tenure track position! Clearly you haven’t been wasting your time.” You encouraged him and he smiled.

“That’s true…”

“But I mean, if you decide to go back then at least you’ll be closer to your family.” You said with a smile.

“Well, my family is kind of a mess so…things are better with us when we have some distance between us. That’s why coming here was an idea to begin with” He explained.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Sorry.” You said.

“It’s alright.” He assured you. “Let’s talk about you… I know you’re a caring person but you’re just deflecting at this point.” he said and you smiled a bit and shrugged.

“It’s just…when I think about it I still get really sad.” You explained, with a sad smile on your face and his gaze softened.

“I saw the depression meds in the drawer. You know, you really shouldn’t smoke while you take them. You could get serotonin syndrome.” He said with concern.

“Oh, I haven’t started them. I was supposed to a few weeks ago and well, I had brought them to start on Sunday but I forgot.” You explained.

“Why haven’t you started them?”

“I don’t know…not any good enough reasons though.” You shrugged.

“Like?” He pressed and you sighed and just straightened out and looked at the beautifully starry sky. You hadn’t seen that many stars in a long time.

“My pride…” you chuckled dryly and he sputtered out a laugh as he tried to keep quiet.

“Okay…in what way?”

“Just in the most obvious way…like this person affected me so much that it broke my mind and unbalanced by brain!” You whisper shouted and then sat up straight and brought the joint to your mouth and took a small hit before blowing out the smoke. “How could I let someone hold so much power over me?!” You chuckled in disbelief as your eyes welled up with tears and handed over the joint.

“This is not your fault. You loved and trusted, that’s not wrong.” He reassured you and you sighed. You watching him take a hit and then sighed.

“You’re right. But I still feel weak for it, you know? So ummm…yeah, not taking those meds yet and still surviving and finding joy every now and again, it makes me feel a little bit better.” You confessed.

“And you feel alright?”

“Yeah and getting better, too. Slowly but surely.”

“Okay. Promise you’ll take them when you start to plateau.” He requested as he handed back the dwindling joint.

“Promise.” You assured before taking the last hit and then smashing it against the ashtray to completely extinguish it. “Should we put something on and eat our cereal?”

“Yeah, lets do it.” You smiled.

Before you knew it, the both of you were reclining against the headboard with your cereal bowls and watching SNL highlights.

Day Seven:

Once again, you had woken up alone. You had gone on your walk and when you returned Harry and Julie were already in the kitchen.

“Great, you’re back! Guess what!?” Harry exclaimed.

“What?” You asked as you put your AirPods back into their case.

“Save Ferris has a show at Pappy and Harriet’s tonight!”

“Oh, no way?!” You gasped in disbelief and your sister turned to you.

“You know who that is?” She asked and you nodded.

“I had a ska phase in high school.” You shrugged and she knocked her head back and laughed.

“Oh, right! God… glad you got through that.” She said and you flipped her off as you started to head to your room to shower. “So what? Do you want to go?” Julie asked and you stopped and turned towards her and then glanced to Harry who was smiling expectantly.

“Ummm…yeah! I’d like that actually.” You confirmed.

“Perfect! We’ll get the tickets, don’t worry about it. Merry Christmas.” She said to you and you smiled, “And well, I’m just going to get drunk because I don’t know what the fuck that band is.” She added and you chuckled.

“Well I think you’re going to have fun. And this is like a huge dream come true for me because I never thought I’d ever get to see them!” You said excitedly and she chuckled, “Thank you! I love you.” You said pointedly and then hurried off to shower.

All day the anticipation for this show was building up and building up. By the time you were leaving the house Julie was already tipsy. You were driving since they had paid, it was the least you could do, and you were actually glad you had driven, it was a nice distraction from just wanting to talk to Harry about anything and everything while your sister just laughed at TikTok’s in the backseat. You were also kinda worried that she might make herself car sick, especially as you started going up the winding roads to Pioneer Town.

You guys had intentionally arrived early to take a walk through the historical little western town. You looked through a few shops and then made your way to the saloon next door to the venue and had some tacos while you guys drank and chatted until it was time to make the short walk back to the venue. You guys waited in the merch line for a bit before heading over to the outdoor stage area and finding a spot to stand. Despite this not being a genre that your sister enjoyed, she was having a pretty decent time. And you and Harry had enjoyed the opener and also Save Ferris. You guys were bopping along and singing the songs. Your sister had a few more drinks during the show and by the the time it was all over she was draped around you as you guys headed to your car.

“Want me to drive?” Harry asked as he opened the back right door to help you get Julie inside.

“I’m alright.” You assured him. Your sister groaned as she dropped down onto the seat. “Jules, seatbelt on please.” You said and she hummed.

“M’going, m’going…” she slurred. Once she was all strapped in you and Harry got settled in and you were making the drive back. It had only been a few minutes before you heard your sister slightly snoring from the back.

“Did she pass out?” You asked Harry and he glanced back and smiled.

“Yeah, she’s out.” He confirmed and you chuckled.

“Thanks for mentioning this show. It was super fun.” You smiled at Harry quickly before turning back to the road.

“I’m glad you had fun. You deserve it!” Harry explained with a smile, “Also, are you generally this great to go to shows with?” He asked and you giggled.

“I don’t know…I guess?”

“It’s just so nice to be present isn't it?” He asked and you nodded.

“Definitely. I get what you mean.” You agreed, “But specially here. It’s such an intimate venue. We couldn’t haven’t seen Save Ferris in a better place.” You gushed and he nodded with a wide smile.

The rest of the way you guys were exchanging brief but charged glances. Even if you were just talking about the show and music, the air between you two was once again tense and you finally got a break from it when you arrived. You were giggling as you tried to get Julie inside as quietly as possible on your own since Harry had to pee. While you struggled with the task at hand, you had eventually made it to the pool house. She trudged in and just dropped herself on the bed and you chuckled before letting her be. When you returned to the main house Harry was in the kitchen, grabbing himself a glass of water.

“Want one?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You confirmed and he handed the glass over to you before grabbing another for himself. You quickly drank it down and washed it before setting it back on the drying rack and then asking for his glass and washing his as well.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hummed.

Moments later you were both walking down the dark hallway to get to your bedrooms. When you reached his door you stopped and he turned towards you.

“I also wanted to say that you look very pretty tonight.” He said softly and you smiled.

“Well thank you.” You responded bashfully.

“Of course.” He smiled nervously. You both looked at each other for a moment, the tension from before was rising between you again.

“Ummm, well…I should get to bed. Thank you again for finding this. I really did have the best time. I needed it.” You stated with a genuine smile as your gaze met his own. It lingered for a few more seconds before you felt all bashful again and you blinked away quickly. “Anyway, good night!” You chirped softly before he bid you a good night and you hurried into your room.

You got changed and got ready for bed, but before you could get into it you felt a funny tug in your tummy. Yes, you had spent a whole afternoon basically with Harry, but having him in your room at night, it helped you sleep through the whole night. Which as you’d mentioned to him before, was a current struggle of yours. And more than that, you liked the warmth of him beside you. You loved how deep and raspy his voice got as you spoke late into the night. You liked that one of your pillows smelled like him from how much of a habit it had become to have him come see you and you were working up the guts to go ask him. You hurried to your bedroom door and swung it open only to see Harry already a few steps away from your door.

“Hi.” He smiled as he came closer.

“Hi.” You smiled up at him as he stood before you. “Wanna come in?”

“Yeah.” He smiled and stepped inside.

Before long you were propped up on the pillowed side by side, TV on some old reruns. You were barely paying attention because you were using all of your will power to try and not turn to face him. If you did, surely you’d lose all self-control and do something stupid like lean over to kiss him. Already, the warmth coming off of him was enough to make you want to close the small gap between the two of you. But then, from your peripherals you saw him steal a glance quickly. Your heart started to race, you were buzzing from head to toe as you debated whether to glance over as well. Your heart won that battle as you turned towards him and he smiled slightly.

“What?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Nothing just…we get along too well.” He shrugged and you smiled.

“Too well?” You asked and he hummed. “Maybe our personal situations are influencing a lot of the…vibes, you know?” You asked.

“Why do you say that?” He asked.

“Because, we’ve both been a bit neglected and disappointed by the people we loved. Like…for lack of better terms I think we’re both a little…thirsty.” You said as you giggled and he smiled.

“That’s true.” He smiled.

“And well, then with like the underlying sadness, sometimes you just aren’t thinking all that clearly about things that you’d normally just… push aside.”

“Like what?” He pressed and you sighed.

“Like why we suddenly have the hots for each other!” You whisper shouted and he chuckled. “Like I’m suddenly very aware of you.” You explained.

“I think that was from seeing me half naked.” He said and you groaned in embarrassment as you let yourself fall onto your pillows. “Hey, hey…” Harry giggled as he turned onto his side to face you, “I’m teasing you.” He assured as he glanced down at you.

“I know, but still not my finest moment.” You reminded him with a playful roll of your eyes. But then he reached for your face and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I almost kissed you the other day, which…is equally as bad so I’d say we’re both on thin ice. And well, it’s not like I don’t want to now or something…Like I know that no one would find out about it-”

“What If they do somehow?” You asked nervously.

“They won’t. But if they did, it’s not like I was gonna be around you guys for much longer any way, with the divorce an all…” he said with a small shrug.

“So you’re going to get divorced?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah. Gonna get it going when we get back home.” He said and you nodded.

Your eye contact with him didn’t waiver for another few seconds and before you knew it, you were both leaning in slowly. He exhaled shakily before you finishing closing the gap between your lips. It was just a small and quick touch of your lips together before you both pulled away. Your noses were nearly touching as you just hovered near each other for a few seconds. But from one second to the next, his will power snapped and he was kissing you again gently. Over and over, in quick little pecks, lips smearing together for seconds at a time, both too scared to kiss with a bit more fervor as to not find out just how far it could go. But like he said, no would find out…

“Fuck it then.” You whispered as you reached around his neck and he pulled you in closer by the waist. Your kiss deepened quickly, you moaned at the taste of his mouth, feeling his tongue smooth over your lips and for his teeth to nibble at your bottom lip… you were reeling. Falling blissfully into a state of non-worry as you sunk into the delicious mattress and were blanketed by Harry’s warmth and weight over you. His constant squeeze at your hip was telling you that his body was screaming to do more with his hands, but he was trying not to do too much. You pulled away from the kiss quickly, smiling as he chanted after your lips, “Just wanna tell you that you can…” you trailed off as he smooched over your lips quickly, “Y-you can touch me more.”

As soon as you gave him the green light he slid his warm hand down the side of your thigh and to the underside where he hoisted it up around his own hip. Then he smoothed his hand back up your thigh, then up your waist, but from under your shirt. And slowly, he covered more skin until he was sliding his big, warm palm over your breast. You moaned as he gave it a gentle squeeze. The curiosity with which he was feeling you out was reminiscent of a very early sexual experience you had with some guy at a birthday party in the 8th grade, with all that seven minutes in heaven shit.

“So you’re a boobs guy…” you giggled as he swiped his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“Definitely a boobs guy.” He mumbled into your lips before kissing you a few more times. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked and you bit your lip as you weighed out your options. But who were you kidding, the thought of having those same lips all over your breasts had you slicking up your underwear even more than they already were.

“Yeah.” You consented verbally and you sat up as he helped pull your body free from the shirt and then dropped it on an empty part of the bed.

Harry’s warm, smooth lips started to kiss down your jaw, nibbling a few times on his way down to the column of your neck. You held in your giggles from his stubble tickling your sensitive skin. He had both of his hands on your breasts now as he sat over you, he was teasing your nipples, being so light and airy with his touches, it had you squirming. You knew he’d get there soon, but soon wasn’t happening as fast as you wanted.

“Please!” You whimpered and he glanced up at you and smirked.

“I’m going.” He assured you and he lowered himself until he was face level with your breasts.

He wasted no time in parting his lips and sucking your nipple between them. You whimpered and wove your fingers into his hair. He sucked harder and you gripped at his hair harder. His other hand kneaded over your other breast as you writhed beneath him. And as you wiggled around trying to part your legs to wrap around him, he pulled one out from under him and lowered his hips a bit as you ground up and that’s when you felt the bulge in his pants. He was so fucking hard.

“Fuck.” He sighed as he kissed back up your neck and finally back at your lips as he started to grind his cock against you. One of your hands slid up his arm, feeling at his bulging muscles. The other slid down to his backside, encouraging him to keep going. It wasn’t so much the feeling of the dry hump as it was the desperation that existed between you two. It would feel wrong to fuck so quickly, but you wanted to so badly that you were both willing to settle for this. It was a little bit sick and a lot pathetic, a true reflection of you two as you made out sloppily while rubbing fronts.

You’d been struggling with your sex drive since the depression and you really hadn’t needed to be in tune with it, seeing as you had planned to steer clear of anything with another person for the foreseeable future. But now here you were, wetter than you’d been in months, feeling the fabric of your underwear clinging to the skin of your pussy. You needed more if you were going to come and you really, really wanted to come.

“Harry…Harry…” you mumbled against his lips, “Take these off.” you panted as you tugged at the band of his pants and boxer briefs.

“Sure?” He asked and you nodded.

“It’ll be easier to come like that.” You said and he smiled. “What?”

“I just…hadn’t really thought about that, I was just kinda happy to be here.” He chuckled and you giggled.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just got a little carried away, s’been a while.” You explained.

“For me too. I want to…I just want to make sure, you know?”

“Well, thank you for making sure.” You whispered and he smiled down at you before kissing you again. You two struggled for a bit as he tried to get his pants off without stopping the kisses, but eventually you had to and you watched as he knelt up onto the bed. His cock was so fucking pretty, it made you salivate. He wasn’t shaved clean but he was definitely trimmed. You also wanted to get his balls in your mouth and make him squirm with pleasure. You also started to get your pants off and he helped you pull them off of your legs. Your underwear matched with the sleep tank you had on, a nice baby blue color, but they did nothing to hide how fucking wet you were.

After tearing off his shirt, Harry had your legs spread, holding you down by the backs of the thighs as he slid his cock over your clothed crease. Back and forth, over and over, the head of his cock was colliding with your clit. His foreskin was starting to pull back to reveal his tip, meaning that despite how hard he already felt to you, he had more to go. You were trying to keep your sounds at a minimum, but you were starting to get close to the edge. The steady pace Harry was going at, plus the weight and warmth of his cock gliding over you and between your sticky pussy lips were all pushing you to fall apart quickly.

“You’re gonna make me come so hard…” you moaned and he groaned and kissed you.

“Good, baby. Come for me.” He mumbled against your lips and you nodded. You were inhaling his exhales as you kissed sloppily. You could feel your legs starting to tense up and your walls starting to tighten inside of you as the pleasure started to become more concentrated in the pit of your core. It was so hot and tingly and lovely, it was starting to ache, you could feel your slick starting to pump out of your needy little hole. If Harry decided to try put it in you’d let him do it. Just processing that thought and how possible it was had your orgasm overcoming you. Your breath hitched and your whole body went stiff for a second before the pleasure just exploded. A gratifying moan slipped past your lips and Harry was quick to cover your mouth, chuckling lowly as you got lost in the pleasure of the orgasm. He watched your breasts bounce and jiggle beautifully as your body rolled gently with the waves of your orgasm. You were gripping the sheets so tight that your fingers slightly ached but it just felt so good. Even as he kept going, you welcomed the sensitivity. He pulled his hand from your mouth and reached for one of your boobs again before glancing down at his cock all slicked up with your slick and cum.

“Fuck I’m gonna come!” Harry mumbled and you bit your lip in anticipation. Opposite of what you expected, he slowed his pace and then grabbed the crotch of your panties and pulling it to the side. He moaned as he saw your whole pussy and then laid his cock over it again a few times and then very intentionally, he pressed against your entrance, it was making you tremble. “Fuck…gonna let me come all over your pussy?” He asked as he looked up at you and you nodded, mouth agape, eyes nearly closed from the insurmountable waves of lust.

“Please, need it so bad.” You encouraged his orgasm. And moments later he was groaning lowly as you felt his thick, warm load start to spill all over your pussy. His slow ruts against you were making you melt and you propped your self up on your elbows to see the mess he was making against you. “Do you always cum that much? Fuck…” you chuckled as you glanced up at him and he just smirked at you as he came to a slow stop.

“Do you feel bad?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not yet at least…” you added and he nodded.

“Okay, me either.” He assured you. “Just wanted to check before I kissed you again.”

“Oh, okay.” You whispered as he leaned in and kissed you slowly again.

Eventually you got cleaned up and back into bed with him. You knew that you would wake up alone, but still weren’t sure if you’d be happy about it or not.

Day Eight:

When your eyes opened the following morning you felt fine. You weren’t afraid to face Harry, you weren’t regretful of what you’d done. However, you did find yourself wondering when you’d be able to get away with it again.

What did concern you is how he would feel about it this morning. He was eager in the heat of the moment but what about now, after the post nut clarity? The more and more you gave it some thought the more you psyched yourself out and were avoiding joining everyone for breakfast. You were in your patio, smoking a joint to help you build up some appetite, but also to help you relax and be normal when you were in the same room with your aunt, parents, and brother in law who had just come loads over your bare pussy, and of course, your sister, his wife. Well, soon to be ex-wife, but still! It wasn’t official yet!

Finally you decided to bite the bullet and headed towards the kitchen. You greeted everyone good morning and then glanced to Harry who flashed you an easy smile.

“You alright?” He asked. What sounded like the most casual question to everyone else was the most charged question between you and him. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. All good.” You reassured him and he smiled and nodded silently before continuing to eat his breakfast.

OMG SORRY FRIENDS! FOTGOT TO TAAAAG!

@daphnesutton @mads3502 @triski73 @xoxxjada @fangirl509east @stylesftcher @charlottesrecommendations @taintedwonder @goobernickle @loverofhsandallthings1d

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles reader insert #harry styles christmas fic #Harry styles x you #you x harry styles #harry styles reader insert fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles AU #harry styles x reader #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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stxrslutrestored · 23 hours ago

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SILENT TREATMENT

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie reader

summary; even after your little confrontation, rafe continues to neglect you, so when he tries to give you his affections, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, little do you know how well that may end for you

content; body worship, oral (f receiving)

authors note; re upload! part 2 of waiting for you

last night was good, you wake up feeling relieved, happy to have finally resolved your issue with rafe. you can’t wait to spend time with him today. you roll over when you feel him stir, a smile pasted on your lips, “mornin’ rafe,” you grin, hand coming up to caress his sleepy face. he looks so pretty in the mornings.

a little smile creeps onto his lips as well, his eyes peel open and he meets your loving gaze, “hi sweetheart.”

you move to cuddle closer to him, but to your surprise he sits up. you sit up too, but don’t follow him as he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, but you keep smiling, “where you goin’? we only just woke up.” you’re dreading the next sentence to come out of his mouth.

he nods absently, “yeah uh.. I just—” he points to the door over his shoulder, “got some work to do.” his voice trails off, and before you know it, he’s walking out the door.

son of a bitch.

you sit there for a few minutes in the company of your own silence. you can’t believe it. you’d had a whole fight last night, he’d acknowledged that he was prioritising work too much, and now, at seven in the morning, with no deadline, he’s gone back to it. without paying you a single glance at that.

you get over it, sure, you are totally over it. you spend the day with yourself, but you can’t help but be peeved the entire time. in the evening you make yourself a meal, only yourself, one portion. rafe is nowhere to be seen, so why should you cook for him?

when he comes downstairs you are on the couch watching the tv with your meal in a tray on your lap. he walks over to the kitchen where the empty pot lies still on the stove. upon opening the lid of the pot and finding nothing his face falls, “you didn’t cook for both of us?” he asks, brows furrowed as he speaks to the back of your head.

“I didn’t know you wanted food.” you say, “been workin’ all day, didn’t even know if you were gonna come down.” you take another mouthful of your meal.

“what am I supposed to eat?” his face contorts in slight frustration. he looks like a kicked puppy. he hadn’t had to actually think about what to get for dinner for ages, you’d always taken care of it.

“I don’t know,” you put a sickly sweet twinge in your voice, “you could get takeout… or cook. do you know how to do that?” you know it’s a bit of a mean comment but god dammit you’re hurt. he’s hurt you and you will hurt him back until he realises how shitty he’s treated you.

it continues all week. the snarky comments and disregards of each other. rafe keeps to his work and you keep to yourself.

you both ignore it with great passion. neither of you caring to acknowledge all the feelings, knowing that when you do, it will be a turmoil that you just don’t want to face.

of course it has to happen, and in a turn of unexpected events, it’s rafe who initiates the conversation.

you’re just getting into your night clothes when he enters the room, speaking your name. he leans against the doorframe to talk to you. “you look nice.” he says bluntly.

you smile, but you don’t look up at him, “thankyou.” you slip your nightdress on and then stand to walk over to bed.

he sighs and meets you before you can sit down, “uhm.. d’you wanna.. maybe do something..” he asks, it’s awkward, he barely ever has to ask, normally it just happens. his hand rests on your hip.

you shrug, “I don’t know.. I’m pretty tired actually.” you tell him, looking up at him, and yet it’s not an intimate eye contact like it should be right before you climb into bed with him.

“come on.” he murmurs, “let’s just.. be together y’know.” he smirks tentatively, rubbing your hip now, but you don’t return his energy.

“no. I think I’d rather just go to sleep. you can lie with me if you want.” you make to move past him but he stops you, holding you back.

“no.” he raises his voice slightly but quickly corrects his tone. “no— no you’re- you’re ignorin’ me.” he pulls you in front of him, his head cranes down just a little bit to keep your gaze. “I know why. okay— I get it but— I- I can’t make it up to you if you don’t let me.”

you shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about rafe,” you speak so matter of factly, “I just wanna go to sleep right now.”

“no. no.” he pushes you back, “let— lemme make it up to you.” he speaks, frowning in upset, “I can show you I- let me show you that I’m sorry okay.”

you furrow your eyebrows, it’s not like rafe to speak like this, he’s never sorry for anything he does, he believes every action he takes has a purpose and that nobody has a right to complain about them. rafe saying sorry is basically him admitting he’s completely and utterly pussy whipped.

you stay sceptical though, “mhm. what are you gonna do to show me rafe? fuck me? again? for the one hundredth something time in our relationship?” you raise an eyebrow.

rafe stutters, thoughts faltering as you call out the plan he thought to be impeccable. “I’m- I’m not just gonna fuck you.. okay I- I-”

“you’re what? gonna make love to me? touch my innocence? be intimate—” the agitation in your voice starts to come through, you do just want to get into bed.

his hands come to your shoulders, but the touch is gentle, not firm or commanding like it normally is. he hesitates for a moment and then makes a decisive noise. suddenly he’s lowering all the way to his knees, hands still firm on your shoulders.

“I- I love you okay.” he looks up to you, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. his hands pull at your nightdress, tugging it off and discarding it to the floor. his hands run down your body.

“love this body,” he says, “love you. love you so much.” he kisses your lower tummy, maybe in an effort to hide his now falling tears. you didn’t think your silent treatment would provoke such an emotional reaction from him.

“rafe…” you frown, hand coming to the back of his head as he looks right back up to you. you think about telling him to leave it because you feel bad, but then you realise that this despair in him could get you something good, and so you decide to be selfish. “show me.” you tell him, “show me how much you love me.”

rafe’s head lowers and he begins to move down your body. he starts to place wet open mouthed kisses on every spot that his face passes and his hands follow after. he works his way all the way down until he’s kissing just above your pussy.

“god.” he exhales, “gonna— gonna show you okay.” his hands come up to support your hips as he brings his face down again and his open mouth comes into contact with your most sensitive spot.

you seethe a breath, legs weakening from the contact but his grip on you is strong and he keeps you upright as he begins to move his mouth.

he kisses and sucks with ease, tongue swirling around your clit. you have to hold back surprise at the fact he’s so good at this, you’re not sure he’s ever eaten you out before.

he lets out little murmurs and breaths that seem to send vibrations through your entire body. you have to throw your head back in pleasure, you feel so good.

rafe comes back for a breath, pulling away with a pop. his lips and chin are glistening with your wetness, he looks up to you with wide eyes and swollen lips.

“do you believe me.” he asks breathlessly, he looks so desperate. so desperate. you take sympathy on him, his hurt puppy look, those wide sad eyes.

you nod, “I believe you. I know you love me.” you smile down at him. he lets out a breath of relief, a smile forming on his own shiny lips.

he keeps your gaze for a moment and then he goes back down, now with a newfound energy that just makes it so much better. with his face still buried in your pussy he makes to turn you around so that you can fall back onto the bed. you realise now, that you are in for a good night.

#lily writes 𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron prompt #sweetie!reader #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader

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megamindsecretlair · 20 hours ago

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Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics.

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two.

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid.

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid.

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium.

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not.

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him.

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona.

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad.

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide.

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck.

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender.

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster.

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode.

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit.

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than.

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something.

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them.

“You okay?” Terry asked.

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out.

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly.

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly.

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top.

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit.

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room.

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding.

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu.

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you.

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said.

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile.

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage?

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties.

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace.

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world.

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him.

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow.

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you.

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam.

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other.

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him.

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people.

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger.

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously.

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive.

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence.

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody.

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore.

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline.

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting.

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products.

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out.

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy.

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.”

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found.

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else.

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone?

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave?

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds.

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you?

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you.

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this.

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this.

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right.

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door?

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity.

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man.

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run.

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right?

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you.

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free.

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt.

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room.

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation.

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up.

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone.

“Terry!” You yelled.

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you.

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries.

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy.

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room.

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said.

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable.

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again.

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck?

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing.

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off.

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep.

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier?

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived.

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now?

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off.

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out.

But why didn’t Terry take you with him?

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone.

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go?

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?”

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer.

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said.

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived.

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it.

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened.

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with.

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser?

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said.

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security.

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door.

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.”

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked.

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned.

“Hey,” Terry said.

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said.

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said.

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time.

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,�� he said. His jaw flexed after he said that.

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did.

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words.

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment.

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly.

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said.

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod.

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others.

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right.

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile.

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around.

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.”

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom.

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked.

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.”

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

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ikkyfics · 3 days ago

Text

Beyond Words

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Summary: “Tough day?” Remus asked, turning slightly to watch you more closely. You shrugged. “Kind of. Just… a lot of noise. I needed a little peace.” “Well, you came to the right place.”

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The night at Hogwarts was peaceful, except for the distant sound of conversations and laughter coming from the Gryffindor Common Room. After a particularly busy day, all you wanted was a moment of peace, away from the noise and distractions. So, you climbed the stairs toward the Astronomy Tower, where you knew you could find the silence you longed for.

When you opened the heavy door, the first thing you saw was a familiar silhouette sitting on one of the stone benches under the faint light of the stars. Remus Lupin. He was bent over a book, his brown hair falling softly over his forehead as his eyes scanned the pages. You paused for a moment, hesitating.

“If you’re going back to the noise down there, don’t even think about it,” he said without looking up from the book, but there was a playful smile in his voice.

You sighed lightly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. I know you,” he replied, carefully closing the book and finally lifting his gaze to you. That warm, curious brown stare made your heart race every time. He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed reserved only for you. “Come here.”

Remus slid over to make room on the stone bench for you to sit. Despite your initial reluctance, you walked over to him, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Tough day?” he asked, turning slightly to watch you more closely.

You shrugged. “Kind of. Just… a lot of noise. I needed a little peace.”

“Well, you came to the right place,” he said softly, pulling something from his robe pocket. He held out his hand and, without saying anything, handed you a small piece of chocolate.

You raised an eyebrow, taking the treat. “You carry chocolate everywhere?”

“Of course,” he answered casually. “You never know when someone might need a little comfort.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, but accepted the chocolate gratefully. The sweet and comforting taste was exactly what you needed. Silence fell over you both again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was the kind of silence that only someone like Remus could make possible—a silence where you could simply exist.

He opened the book again, but his attention clearly wasn’t on the pages. He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if studying you.

“You’re staring at me,” you commented without taking your eyes off the starry sky.

“It’s because you’re beautiful,” he said without hesitation.

You turned your face toward him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “You never get tired of saying that, do you?”

“To tell the truth? No,” he replied, smiling with that calm way of his that made it impossible to stay mad at him.

You shook your head, trying to hide how fast your heart was beating. He had this way of making even the simplest moments feel special, like they were just for the two of you.

After a while, Remus closed the book again and set it aside. He turned completely toward you, resting his elbow on his knee while propping his chin in his hand.

“Did you know that this is my favorite thing about you?”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“This,” he said, pointing slightly at you. “The way you can turn any place into something peaceful. Even if the day was a mess, even if I’m exhausted… you make everything seem easier.”

“Me?” you asked, incredulous.

“You,” he confirmed, his brown eyes shining with sincerity. “Even the silence with you feels special.”

For a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Not because you didn’t know how to respond, but because it seemed impossible to put into words how much he meant to you. He was everything—a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, a constant in a world full of uncertainties.

“I… I like you too,” you finally said, your voice softer than you intended.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made the world seem lighter. “Well, that’s convenient, considering we’re dating.”

You huffed, trying to keep up the air of indignation, but the heat rising in your face and the corner of your mouth betraying a smile didn’t help at all. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I hear that a lot,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, the playful tone softening his expression.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the kind of silence that felt full of unspoken things, but things that didn’t need to be said. Then, before you could censor yourself, you let slip: “It’s just that you make everything seem so… easy.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Easy? Me?”

“Yes, you,” you repeated, feeling your face heat up even more. “You have this… thing. This way of making everything seem like it’s going to be fine. Even when it shouldn’t. It’s annoying.”

He laughed, that low, cozy laugh that seemed to fill the entire space. “I think that was the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“It was sincere,” you shot back, looking at the sky to avoid his gaze. “And don’t get used to it. I don’t do this all the time.”

Remus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned a little closer until you finally turned to face him again. His brown eyes were shining, a mix of affection and something deeper that made your heart stumble.

“You know I adore you, right?” he said softly, the tone so sincere it almost hurt.

You tried to laugh, but the intensity of his words caught you off guard. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” he said without hesitation. “And I’ll keep saying it until you truly believe it.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips. It was brief, but sweet, the kind of gesture that said more than any words could. When you pulled back, you saw he was smiling again—that smile that was all his, soft and charming.

“Was that an argument?” he asked, the playful tone returning.

“Maybe,” you replied, trying to hide how nervous you were, but the smile on his face told you he knew.

He extended his hand, his fingers gently brushing against yours before holding them. The scars on his skin were rough, but the touch was gentle, almost reverent. You knew he didn’t like drawing attention to the marks, but to you, they were just another part of him—another thing to admire.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he said, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Remus,” you murmured, feeling your face heat up again.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, intertwining his fingers with yours. “It’s not just the way you look at me, or how you can understand everything without me having to say anything. It’s how you pay attention to everything, like now. I see the way you look at me, and that… means more than you think.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. “I… I just… really like you. A lot.”

He tilted his head, curious. “How much?”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t escape. “Enough to think you deserve more than just this.”

Before he could respond, you moved closer again, holding his face in your hands. You ran your thumbs gently over the scars on his cheeks, looking at him with all the intensity you usually hid. “I really do adore you, Remus Lupin. Even the little, silly details.”

The surprise in his eyes lasted only a moment before it melted into something even softer. He held your hands, lightly kissing the palm of one of them. “Then we’re even.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, he leaned in, kissing you with a sweetness that seemed to take all the air from your lungs. It wasn’t rushed or intense, but filled with a tenderness that said everything he felt.

When you pulled apart, he was still close, his forehead resting against yours. “You know there’s no turning back now, right? You’re stuck with me.”

“Am I?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but you couldn’t stop the smile that escaped.

“Completely,” he replied, his smile matching yours.

And as you stayed there, tangled up in each other under the starlight, the world felt quieter, simpler—like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

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mossangelll · 2 days ago

Text

yandere!viktor x reader

machine herald controlling you you to the point of infantilisation⁉️

this is probably on the fringe for a lot of people but the idea of a yandere going to such extremes because they “know what’s best for you” and experiencing such a dehumanising loss of agency scratches an itch for me

tw: forced age regression, uncomfortable dynamics, forced drugging, toxic behaviour

“Do you want the crayons or the storybook, hm?” he holds them up to you in either hand, “Speak up for me. I know my darling can do it.” If you didn’t know any better about him and the horrific things he’s capable of, you would honestly believe the gentle cadence paired with his own unique twang was calming and paternal.

What a sick fuck.

He had that smarmy grin plastered to his face as he watched you in silence, waiting for a response that obviously would never come. After all, he made you a makeshift pacifier that was strapped inside your mouth using soft fabric that also wrapped around your hands. He took your voice and mobility all in one fell swoop and you were helpless against him.

“Aw, poor little thing. You must be tired, eh?” His cold metal hand comes to press against your forehead, thumb easing away the tension etched there.

He hoists you up with ease from where you were sat at your miniature table and carries you over to a large mattress in the corner of your room, what he’s lovingly dubbed your “crib” due to the child-friendly gates surrounding it, and places you amongst the sea of soft plushies and pillows.

He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and smooths the stray hairs that have come out out your immaculate hair do, one he did for you, of course. He wants to be a reassuring presence for you but as you lay before him, you feel bile rise in your throat.

The frustration continues to well up and your eyes burn with unshed tears until you can’t hold them back anymore and you sob. But even your cries come out muffled and you’re not able to truly express the anguish that rages inside of you, a freedom that is your birthright.

Why, out of everyone, did you end up with this psycho that treats you like a child?

Viktor lets out a soft gasp and immediately crouches down by your side. “Shh darling, everything will be ok. Seeing you like this makes me very upset, you know.” He coos but the wide smile he doesn’t even bother to hide tells a different story.

He leaves you for just a moment, fearful of what kind of accidents you could get into in his absence, he once said. You rolled your eyes at the time, still fighting for your independence with venomous words and sharp rebuttals, and was promptly punished for your disobedience. It wasn’t the first time and definitely won’t the last, but now you’re more accepting of your position with Viktor’s - better to make your life easier by giving into his unusual desires than be punished again and again and again until you finally learn your lesson.

He comes back with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, cooled just enough that it wouldn’t burn your mouth.

He pulls a vial full of a pale yellow liquid out of his pocket and drops two splashes of it into your drunk before giving it a good stir. He does this in plain view of you, knowing that there’s nothing you can do to stop him. Though your untrusting gaze cuts right through him, he continues on not caring about what you think is “moral”. He scoffs at such black and white thinking; you don’t have the knowledge and power he does, so how could you ever care for yourself the way he can?

“Drink up, darling. You’ll feel right as rain in no time.” He doesn’t give you the option of declining as he’s quick to pull out your pacifier and press the mug against your lips, cradling your head forwards so you don’t choke.

The hot chocolate is rich and velvety, smooth and indulgent with a slight edge you’re not quite able to place. Something of his invention, no doubt. Viktor often forbade you from eating too many sweets so this was clearly his way of placating you, baiting you into being on your best behaviour.

It’s unnerving, the way his curious amber eyes stare into yours with no intention of looking away, as if you were a perplexing equation he needed to find the solution to. You were simply something he needed to fix, a small stepping stone that meant nothing in his greater plan to solve humanity’s suffering.

Your head feels cloudy as you slowly fall into a smaller version of yourself, one that’s scared of the dark and cries whenever Viktor leaves.

You hate that he’s reduced you to a shadow of your former self, forcing you to act like a child while you frantically grip onto the disintegrating remnants of your past life. You hate the way your eyes start to flicker as drowsiness engulfs each of your senses - you especially hate feeling like you’re rolling over and simply allowing him do as he pleases, but as much as you wish to protest and scream you’re rendered still by whatever concoction he spiked your drink with.

Either way, he would probably get some depraved enjoyment out of you having a tantrum, since it only goes to prove that you need him to look after you and you’d rather not supply him with more fodder for the fire.

Viktor begins to hum a childhood song from the undercity but when the melody reaches your ears, it’s dampened like your head is submerged deep underwater.

He reaches for your hand which you limply grab onto with what little strength you have left, “There, there, little one. Close your eyes and sleep. You’re safe here.”

And sleep you do.

#yandere viktor x reader #yandere viktor #toxic viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane #age regression #forced age regression #forced infantilisation #yandere

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riboism · 22 hours ago

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unconditional

》 pairing: husband! k.ys x wife! reader x c.sn

》 plot: as you and yeosang celebrate your 10th wedding anniversary, everyone around you sees the perfect marriage. but behind closed doors, the cracks have been growing for years—until a new experiment in the bedroom changes everything.

》 content: smut, cuckolding, marriage, blowjob, vibrator, reverse cowgirl, multiple orgasms, basically you and yeosang were struggling with a boring sex life and now yeosang can’t get off without watching you get fucked by san first 😗

》 wc: 3.5k

🎧 unconditional- jaehyun

Yeosang's company was known for hosting the most sophisticated Christmas parties, and this year was no exception. The venue—a charming little club perched on the bay—had stunning views of the waterfront. Through its large windows, the boats docked outside swayed gently, their twinkling Christmas lights casting soft reflections on the dark water. In contrast with the serenity outside, the atmosphere inside buzzed with great energy. Sounds of the live jazz band playing holiday hits hung in the air. Couples took to the dance floor, swaying along to the rhythm. Mid-level employees stood in clusters, clutching untouched glasses of champagne, their unease showing through their fake smiles as their senior managers approached with cheerful insistence to “join the fun,” though they would smile politely, nodding along while doing their best to sidestep the pressure to drink.

Aside from the approaching holidays, this year brought plenty of reasons to celebrate. It marked your husband’s 10th anniversary at the firm—a milestone capped with yet another promotion—and also a decade of marriage for the two of you.

“What a lovely couple,” his coworkers would often remark, adding with a chuckle, “our very own Barbie and Ken.” And then there was your least favorite comment of all, inevitably delivered with a mix of curiosity and tease: “Ten years? What’s the secret?”

If only they knew.

“Ready to go, my love?” A deep, velvety voice hummed behind you. Yeosang’s hand slipped around your waist, his grasp firm as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

To anyone watching, your marriage seemed picture-perfect. But the truth was, it had been unraveling for years. The frequent business trips, the endless arguments, and the slow creep of boredom had eroded the bond you once shared. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things began to fall apart, but you both felt it: the dwindling attraction, the hollow excuses of “I’m tired” or “I have an early meeting in the morning” exchanged like lifeless darts. The distance had grown so vast that you began to sleep in separate beds, the physical space only echoing the emotional chasm between you.

Despite it all, you still clung to the hope that things could be salvaged. It had taken months of pleading to convince Yeosang to try marriage counseling. But even after he finally agreed, progress felt elusive. Each session, with its endless prompts of “how does that make you feel?” only seemed to peel back old wounds and stir up more tension, leaving both of you raw and resentful. It felt a lot like trying to douse a fire with gasoline.

Then, a couple of months ago, your counselor suggested something unexpected.

“Have you two thought about spicing things up in the bedroom?”

At first, you scoffed at the idea. How could sex—a physical act—fix the emotional disconnect that had formed between you? How could it erase the resentment, the boredom, the loneliness, or the simmering anger? It felt shallow, almost laughable. But as the weeks dragged on, you both found yourselves at a breaking point, too exhausted to deny the truth: the spark you’d once had was gone. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying anything to get it back.

Anything.

Little did you know, that seemingly poor advice was exactly the push you two needed. What started as a reluctant experiment turned into a rediscovery of the intimacy and connection you thought were lost forever. Bit by bit, the walls you had built began to crumble, and with them, the spark you once shared slowly reignited, flickering back to life.

Your hand reached around the curve of his back, rising on your tippy toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Let’s go.”

—

Yeosang reclined in his reading chair, legs parted with an easy confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His gaze locked onto you, steady and intent, filling the space with an unspoken tension. The room was filled with your soft moans and squelches from your sopping cunt as San rubbed a purple vibrator over your clit gently, a Cheshire cat-like smile enveloping his features each time you squealed over him.

You laid across his bare chest, his strong, chiseled arms holding your legs open as he worked the toy over your sensitive spots. You liked San. Yeosang could tell. Though you've laid on this very bed with other men before, Yeosang noticed how well you responded to him compared to the others. He was undeniably attractive, yes, but the way you were with him—the excitement in your eyes, the way you rode him with such passion, letting out the prettiest, most lewd whines he’d ever heard—it was a done deal. Yeosang hired him as a gift for you, but it was more for him. San was his little plaything, a vessel for him to puppeteer. And you…well, you were just the main attraction.

Yeosang reached for his scotch glass on the side table, taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “Higher,” he demanded.

Without missing a beat, San pressed the little button on your vibrator, the increase in intensity making you gasp. You held in your screams, biting your lip until it was red. Yeosang frowned. He hated it when you did that.

“Higher.”

San pressed the button again. Your hands immediately grasped onto your sheets, the unforgiving buzzing between your legs becoming too much to handle. “Oh, fuck!” You choked, before pressing a hand over your mouth. Your eyes locked onto your core, unable to do anything but watch yourself be at the mercy of your husband and his puppet.

Yeosang tsked, slouching back into his chair as if he were watching his favorite team losing on TV. “Get her hand off her mouth.”

San did as instructed, pulling your hand away and holding it down so you wouldn’t be tempted to do it again. His chin rested against your shoulder, his lips parted in fascination as he watched your slick, wet juices coat the small toy. “C’mon honey,” he said in a low voice, “you know he likes to hear you.”

The beginning of the night was always difficult, getting used to having two sets of eyes on you as you undressed, and it took time for you to get comfortable enough to make any noises. You had been doing this with San for a few months, but each time felt like the first.

“Higher.”

Before you could protest, San increased the speed, the sharp buzzing almost knocking you out. “That’s as high as it goes,” San grinned, gripping you tighter as you convulsed in his arms.

“P-please, it’s too much!” You wailed, your abs tightening as you struggled to keep up.

And then, there it was. Your sweet melody made Yeosang��s ears perk up, and he leaned over as if he were trying to hear you more clearly. “That’s it,” he said, almost approvingly, “now make her cum.”

San pressed the toy harder onto your clit. You cursed and screamed, tears welling in your eyes as you grabbed onto San’s hand, torn between wanting to pull it off of you and wanting to hold on enough to meet your release. You knew it would make Yeosang happy if you held on, if you did whatever he wanted and did so obediently, but God, why did he have to make it so difficult for you?

A rush of heat swept over you, leaving sweat to prickle on your skin. Gripping onto him, you chased that release, pushing forward until your legs finally gave way, surrendering to the overwhelming wave of relief you had been craving all night. Exhausted, you collapsed back against San’s chest, melting into his embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your chest rose and fell, the relentless buzzing finally leaving your achy core.

San caressed your thighs, his soft, pouty lips peppering light kisses on your neck, making his way to your jaw, until finally connecting with your lips. You kissed him lazily, still dizzy and tired from your orgasm to do anything more.

As your lips moved with him, your eyes stayed open, locking with your husband’s gaze from across the room, where he remained seated in the far corner. Yeosang bit the skin around his thumb, watching you intently with a gleam in his eye. Kissing wasn’t part of the deal, not initially, though he’d never stopped you when you did. You did it deliberately, knowing it would get under his skin, knowing how much he enjoyed being riled up.

San’s lips pulled away from yours, his gaze shifting to Yeosang. “What now, boss?”

Yeosang paused for a moment, mulling over his options. He tapped his foot lightly against the carpet, contemplating what he wanted to see next. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing one foot over his knee, signaling he had made his decision. “It’s a special night,” he said coolly, his voice laced with authority. “Let her decide.”

It was an unexpected request, one that placed all the authority in your hands. It was unlike him to relinquish control like this, and the sudden shift left both of you stunned. Their gazes—intense and unwavering—fell onto you, waiting for you to speak. The spotlight felt unbearably hot, and a wave of shyness washed over you, making it difficult to find the words to make a demand. But as your eyes met your husband’s, and seeing the soft, approving nod he gave you, something stirred inside. You couldn’t help but embrace the power now in your grasp.

—

Yeosang tried to hide his smirk, his fingers brushing lightly over his lips as he watched you in amusement. You were fixed over San’s lap as he sat up on the edge of the bed, just a few feet away from Yeosang. His hands were secured onto your waist as you pumped yourself over him, using all the strength you had left in your knees to hold yourself up. Of course, you’d choose this position, Yeosang thought. You didn’t choose reverse cowgirl just because you liked it—in fact, it was probably the most exhausting position for you—but more so because you knew it was the only position where Yeosang would be forced to see your pussy being parted over San’s huge cock.

“Fuck, that’s so good!” You whined, letting out a few borderline pornographic moans out as you bounced on him. You leaned back into his chest, giving him access to your soft, needy breasts. San grabbed your breasts, taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth, and kneading the other with his free hand. You inhaled sharply as he nipped at your skin, head growing dizzy as he swirled his tongue while you fucked yourself dumb.

“Such a tight fucking cunt,” San growled into your skin, “gonna milk me dry, huh baby?”

You moaned in response, purposely widening your legs apart to make sure your husband got a good view. “Yes, want all your cum Sannie,” you breathed in that airy, sweet voice of yours that made Yeosang want to bite his knuckles off.

You knew exactly what you were doing, and Yeosang couldn’t help but applaud you for it. Seeing you like this—so perverse, so shameless—ignited a fire inside of him. It was this very fire, this surge of emotion, that had reignited the spark in your marriage. No, he didn’t invite men over to fuck you because he enjoyed getting cuckolded—in fact, he despised it. Took absolutely no pleasure in it. It all enraged him, watching you take another man’s dick so well, to cry over it, gag over it, and then beg for their cum in your pretty little mouth. No, if he could, he would pull San off of you right now and bash his head against the wall until he bled to death. But he held his composure and controlled the storm brewing inside him. Why? Because he thrived on that rage. It consumed him, a searing jealousy that only made him want you more. And you loved to make him mad.

Your movements were unsteady, hips slowing down, your breathing getting heavier, whines growing needier. Yeosang could tell you were getting close. He gripped his hand on his growing erection, grasping it tightly as he watched you unfold. Your eyes locked with his again, crying out as you came all over San’s cock. That same fire that burned inside Yeosang began to ignite within you as well. You shot your husband a teasing look, torn between the desire to provoke him further and the irresistible urge to run to him, to let him consume you completely, to punish you for enjoying yourself too much.

You hopped off his cock and lowered yourself between San’s legs, pulling off his condom and discarding it to the side before taking him into your mouth. San hissed, his lower half turning to mush as you bobbed on his length, swirling your tongue perfectly over his hardened tip. “Mmm…” you moaned, playing it up, as you massaged his swollen balls, each one tender with cum just waiting to spurt out. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew the tips of Yeosang’s ears were flaming red.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” San whimpered, before finally releasing himself into you. He moaned as his cock twitched in your mouth, eyes growing heavy as you swallowed every drop of him and licked his length clean. You gazed up at him, pleased to see his flushed cheeks and chest. You grabbed him at the base, slapping his tip on your lips, kissing in between while he shuddered from the touch.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your hair, pulling you away from his length. You looked up at your husband, noticing the faint flush of red on his ears, a clear sign that the patience he had maintained all evening had finally worn thin. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and terrifying, as he addressed San without breaking eye contact.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, his tone firm and controlled. “You may go now.”

San muttered a curse under his breath as he got dressed, clearly annoyed by the abrupt dismissal. Normally, you’d let him shower before leaving, but Yeosang was impatient. He couldn’t wait any longer—he needed his moment alone with you.

Now, with just the two of you left in the room, a tension settled in the air. Your gut tightened in anticipation, uncertain but exhilarated by what might happen next.

“Was I good?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you remained kneeling on the floor. Yeosang stood above you, his presence towering and commanding. He leaned down slightly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his touch both firm and gentle.

“So good for me, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing as his thumb brushed over your cheek. You nuzzled into his palm, his warmth spreading through you like a comforting haze.

But just as quickly as the tender moment settled, it shifted. His grip tightened, fingers tangling in your hair before he pulled you up with a firm, swift motion, guiding you onto the bed. The sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, the change in pace leaving you breathless. Tears pricked in your eyes from the pain.

His face was just millimeters away from you now, still holding onto your hair. “But you really pushed it, you know,” he said, his voice cool, but blowing with steam. “You really enjoyed yourself tonight, didn’t you darling?”

“You said I could-“

His free hand made it between your legs, fingers tracing over your achy, abused cunt. “Didn’t say you could suck him off though, did I? Or kiss him? You did that all on your own. You love having another man’s cock in your mouth, don’t you baby?”

You jutted your hips forward, still sensitive from your past two orgasms, but not failing to crave his touch. You tried to bite back a moan but failed. “Sangie…”

He touched you so carefully, so delicately, the feather-like brushes only enticing you more. Your hand reached out for him, rubbing on his clothed bulge, begging him for more with your half-lidded eyes. “...please.”

Yeosang chuckled softly, the sheer desperation in your voice alone making his knees weak. “Please what, baby?” he asked, his voice calm, too calm, a stark contrast to the fire simmering in his eyes. The measured tone sent another shiver down your spine, unsettling in its quiet intensity, as if he was daring you to bare everything to him. He knew what you wanted, your wetness over his fingers told him so, but he just wanted to hear you say it.

“I want you. Only you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Those three simple words sent a rush through him, igniting something primal and deeply satisfying. Watching you indulge in someone else’s touch, only to come crawling back to him and beg for his cock fueled an intoxicating mix of emotions—he felt loved, wanted, important, and powerful. As twisted as it seemed, it served as a visceral reminder that no matter what, you could only truly be his, just as he would only ever be yours. And the truth was, you didn’t mind giving him that reminder, again and again, if it meant rekindling the fire that burned solely between the two of you.

And now, here you were, exactly where you longed to be all night tonight, with your head pressed against the mattress by Yeosang’s firm hand, and your cunt filled with his thick, angry cock, each hard stroke making you scream into the sheets.

“Did it feel good, hmm? Fucking someone who isn’t me?” He said through gritted teeth, his grasp on your hair only getting tighter.

You stayed quiet—well, as quiet as you could—too flustered to answer him fully.

“Oh, don’t get shy now. You like it when I watch, don’t you baby? Like creaming on Sannie’s cock while your sweet husband's watching?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, feeling the sudden harshness in his thrusts at the sheer mention of San. You knew he loved humiliating you, but you still felt an urgent need to make him understand. “Please!” You cried out, your voice trembling, “He doesn’t matter. I just want you. Want your cock, no one else—Fuck, I love your fucking cock!”

Suddenly, the warmth of his cock left you, and he shifted himself onto his back, pulling your body onto him. He moved you so quickly, the sudden change making you dizzy and confused. “Yeah?” He panted, guiding his cock back into your wet folds. “Then show me. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You lowered yourself onto him, your soaked cunt swallowing him up with ease. He could feel you shaking, your pussy so overstimulated, but still so determined to feel his cock paint your walls. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, his hands grasping onto your waist, “Show me…show me how much you love it.”

Your hips rolled over him, rocking them back and forth jaggedly, so desperate to chase your climax and make a mess over him. You were so incoherent now, babbling utter nonsense through your dried-out, sore throat, the fullness of his cock being too much to bear.

Yeosang thumbed your clit, eyes locked on your sticky, wet folds, completely mesmerized at how stretched out your tiny little cunt got. “Show me…” he whispered, pressing his thumb harder into you, helping you reach your high quicker. Your eyes fluttered shut, then rolled back, the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss washing over you and consuming every inch of your being. Yeosang was satisfied, watching you remove yourself from him, his cock glistening with your juices as it sat against your throbbing pussy.

For a moment, the room was silent, his teasing demeanor giving way to something far more intense. Then, with a sudden, possessive motion, Yeosang pulled you down by your neck, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted into him, pouring every ounce of longing and love into the moment, hoping it would be enough to show him the truth.

“I only want you,” you breathed against his lips, the words trembling with raw honesty as you refused to pull away. Yet, deep inside, that familiar shame and heartbreak began to creep in, just like it always did at the end of these experiments.

You weren’t entirely sure if you enjoyed any of it—if this was something you truly wanted. But that didn’t matter as much as seeing him happy, as much as keeping that flicker of connection alive between you both, no matter the cost. Though he had only been teasing earlier, you wanted to ensure he never forgot—no matter who entered this bedroom, you were his, and he was yours. Yeosang's fingertips trailed gently down your back, each touch making you feel warm and safe, wrapping you in a quiet reassurance. “I know, honey,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft yet possessive. “No one can love you as much as I do right now.”

a/n: reblogs and feedback are appreciated

#yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang scenarios #yeosang fanfic #san smut #san x reader #san scenarios #ateez smut

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thursdayinspace · 3 days ago

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So I rewatched "Our Town" last night and when I sat down at my laptop this morning to do something that was not writing, I ended up writing instead. These things happen. Just a silly fluffy-ish little thing because omg that ep is so gross and also Scully has to be getting sick of being abducted all the time. Mulder feels the same way.

She can’t sleep. It’s not every day you almost get beheaded—even after everything that she’s already been through this year, it seems there are still things that can shake her up pretty badly. She rolls over on the lumpy motel mattress and tries to get comfortable. For a glorious moment, she considers quitting. Handing Skinner her resignation and walking away, finding a nice job with regular hours where people won’t handcuff her to radiators, stick her in closets, contort their stretchy bodies through cracks in her bathroom window, or drive her around in the trunks of their cars before handing her over to aliens or the government or whatever theory Mulder’s going with right now. A job where she won’t spend the end of a work day strapped into a metal harness as a guy in a mask raises an ax above her head.

In her mind she pictures a simple life: a nice house with a yard, a dog greeting her as she opens the door and walks inside after a long day at the hospital…no, a private practice? A day of teaching? Whatever she’s been doing, she walks into a kitchen that smells like home-cooked dinner, leaning up to kiss her faceless husband who’s vaguely Mulder-shaped. “Honey, I’m home!” “Dinner’s almost ready! How was your day?” “Fine. Narrowly avoided decapitation. Nothing exciting.” Fuck. Not even fantasy-Scully can escape the absurdity of this life.

The knock on her door doesn’t even surprise her. She already knows who it is. He stopped waking her unless it’s something really important, so she groans and gets up, her bones aching, weeping inwardly as she makes her way to the door. So she can’t sleep; that doesn’t mean she wants to spend the night going over their case report or whatever that infuriatingly charming insomniac wants from her this time.

But when she opens the door, he doesn’t look as if he wants to go over case reports. He looks like shit. As much as that’s even possible for him. Another thing that’s simply unfair about her life, she thinks with a sigh. Even with bags under his eyes and pale as a sheet he still looks beautiful. ��Mulder?” she says.

He doesn’t answer, just steps right into her and pulls her into a wordless hug, so tight she’s a little afraid he’ll crack her ribs. She hugs him back weakly and pats his back, not quite sure what else to do since she has no idea what the fuck he’s even doing. She expects him to pull back, but he just keeps holding on, and she’s genuinely having trouble breathing.

“Uh, Mulder?” she says again, a little louder.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles into her hair, and she wiggles in his arms, trying to loosen his grip.

“Not for much longer if you don’t let go.”

“Sorry.” He drops his arms and takes a step back, but keeps looking at her like he’s never seen her before. “Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah.” She grimaces. “Me neither. It’s been…a day.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, and she laughs. She’s too tired not to.

“Thanks to your timely rescue, my head is still firmly attached to my body.” It sounds a little bitter, and she’s surprised at herself before she feels another little piece of her frustration clicking into place. Ah, yes, she thinks. There’s that too. Rescued once again. She makes a mental note: fantasy-Scully in her little imaginary suburban nine-to-five utopia will never have to be rescued. She’s gonna be the one doing all the rescuing. Except nobody needs to be rescued in that perfect little world, because nothing bad ever happens to anyone.

“You don’t sound okay,” Mulder says, and she closes her eyes for a second. She’s not annoyed with him, she reminds herself. It’s not his fault that she became part of these townsfolks’ dinner plans, and it’s not his fault that she needed him to keep that from happening.

“I’m just a little tired.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” He sounds exhausted and when she looks at him, she sees leftover fear in his eyes. “No more interruptions, I promise.”

Her hand reaches out for his before she’s fully conscious of what she’s doing. It’s just that he’s here and she’s had enough of being Agent Scully for tonight, and he really looks so much like Doctor Scully’s faceless dinner-cooking husband in her nice little fantasy home. “Come on,” she says.

“What are you—”

“Bed,” she explains, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

“Oh. Okay.”

She gets in on her side and is relieved when he lies down next to her without another word. She closes her eyes, but she can feel him stock-still as a statue next to her, she can feel the tension radiating off of him, and, hell, it sounds like he’s even trying to breathe without making a sound. So she grabs his arm and rolls onto her side, tugging him with her until he has his back against her chest, and she holds firmly onto his hand and snuggles back into him.

“Scully?” he asks, sounding a little confused.

“Relax, Mulder,” she tells him. “Sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“About sleeping?”

“You know what I mean.”

She laughs and squeezes his fingers. “No. Of course not. But honestly? I really don’t care right now.”

“Okay,” he says, and he gets it, she knew he’d get it. “Okay,” he repeats, and laces their fingers together. She feels him lift his head, feels his hot breath against the side of her face, and then a gentle kiss against the corner of her eye. “Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Behind her closed eyelids, fantasy Scully lies just like this with her faceless partner, who’s just as warm and smells just as good as real Scully’s friend-partner spooned up behind her. The only difference is that her own real Mulder is…well, real. No matter how perfect her beautiful little dream house with her beautiful perfect husband may be, she kind of prefers snuggling with someone who has a face and a name. And maybe she’d actually miss the mess.

Not all of it. Not the ax-swinging, homicidal maniacs or the lumpy motel mattresses. But a partner who knocks on her door in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep without making sure she was okay? Who sleeps wrapped around her with his breath ruffling the hair at the back of her neck, knowing this isn’t leading anywhere other than comfort and friendship? And…she kisses the backs of his fingers once she convinces herself he’s probably asleep…a vague hope that maybe this won’t always be all there is between them?

Yeah. She’ll take it.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #fic #poangpals #ficlet

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joelsrose · 12 hours ago

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Face Masks?

i need to stop writing this shit bc its making me depresseeedd i need himmm

my masterlist xxx

The room was dimly lit, the golden glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the wooden frame slightly chipped but charming nonetheless, humming a tune to yourself as you adjusted the headband holding your hair back.

The faint scent of roses filled the air, delicate and warm, emanating from the homemade face mask you were mixing in a ceramic bowl Maria had lent you.

You bit your lip in concentration, the wooden spoon swirling through the creamy mixture as you tried to remember the exact instructions Maria had given you earlier that day.

From the bedroom, Joel’s voice broke the peaceful quiet. He was grumbling, his tone steeped in frustration and exhaustion. “He’s a goddamn idiot,” he groaned, clearly talking about someone from patrol. “Told him to stay low, and what does he do? Barges in and almost gets us killed.”

A muffled clink followed, the sound of ceramic touching wood as he set something down on the bedside table. Likely your tea, judging by the faint whiff of chamomile drifting into the room.

Then, his voice shifted, the sharp edges dulled by a tired sort of affection. “Baby,” he called, low and gruff, “you comin’ to bed, or you plannin’ on spendin’ the whole damn night in the bathroom?” The words carried a teasing hint, though softer, quieter, he added, almost to himself, “Your tea’s gonna get cold.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you called back, teasing, “You missin’ me already?”

There was a beat of silence, then his reply came, gruff but undeniably warm. “I wouldn’t be askin’ if I didn’t.”

Your heart fluttered a little, the way it always did when Joel said something like that—not exactly romantic, but the kind of thing only he could make feel like one.

“Just a few more minutes,” you called out, “gotta make sure I’m extra soft and pretty for you.”

“Don’t need any of that,” he muttered, but it was loud enough for you to hear. “You’re already plenty pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, even though his tone was gruff. You shook your head, grinning to yourself.

“Alright,” you replied, your voice carrying through the half-open door. You set the bowl down on the counter and grabbed the jar of homemade moisturizer Maria had also insisted you try. The subtle scent of lavender and honey wafted up as you scooped some into your hands, rubbing it between your palms before smoothing it over your legs.

“So, what happened after?” you asked, keeping your tone light, though curiosity lingered beneath your words. Joel wasn’t the type to gripe unless something had well and truly gotten under his skin.

From the bedroom, you heard him sigh, long and heavy, the sound carrying the weight of his frustration. The soft rustle of the bedsheets followed—he was probably settling in, though you could imagine him rubbing a hand over his face, trying to shake off the day.

“What happened?” he echoed, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Had to clean up his damn mess, that’s what. Kid thinks he’s invincible.” The irritation sharpened as he went on, his voice rising as though he were speaking to the ceiling, reliving the ordeal as he vented. “Walked us straight into an ambush, and I ended up takin’ the brunt of it.”

“Wow,” you gushed aloud, unable to help yourself as you swirled the spoon in the bowl, your voice filled with playful admiration. “My man, taking on all those scary raiders. Bet you looked sexy doing it.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. You smiled to yourself in the mirror, already imagining Joel’s reaction. The way his brows would knit together, that half-gruff, half-flustered expression he’d never admit to, and maybe even a quiet huff of disbelief.

From the bedroom, Joel sighed, loud and dramatic enough for you to hear. “Come out here, please,” he called, his voice carrying that familiar mix of irritation and something softer. “Christ, why’d I gotta beg with you?”

Curious, you leaned out of the bathroom just enough to catch a glimpse of him, careful not to draw his attention. There he was, sprawled across the bed in a way that was all Joel—equal parts rugged and weary.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his expression carrying that familiar blend of irritation and exhaustion that somehow made your chest tighten. Gosh, he was gorgeous, and the sight of him had your cheeks warming despite yourself.

And then there was his face—flushed in a way you recognized instantly. The kind of flush he’d get when he was flustered but too stubborn to admit it.

One arm was tucked behind his head, his elbow jutting out, while the other rested on his chest, fingers absently tapping against the fabric of his shirt. The movement was rhythmic, almost absentminded, as if it might somehow work out the frustration simmering beneath his skin.

His tousled hair framed his face in a way that softened his usually stern features, and the sight of him in a soft gray pyjama shirt and dark pants—clothes that clung just slightly to his broad frame—was disarming. There was something so ordinary about it, so wonderfully domestic.

The bed, far too small for a man like him, groaned faintly under his weight, his legs just barely hanging off the edge. He shifted slightly, a sigh escaping his lips, and for a fleeting moment, you felt like an intruder on something too personal, too real. But you couldn’t look away—he was an unexpected contradiction, all gruffness wrapped in quiet vulnerability, and it left you completely undone.

You smiled to yourself, biting back a laugh at how ridiculously cute he looked in that moment, before calling out teasingly, “So you yell at the poor guy?”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Joel shot back, his tone unapologetic, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Well,” you replied, finally stepping out of the bathroom with the bowl of face mask in your hands, the soft scent of roses trailing after you as you made your way to the bed. “I got somethin’ that might help you relax.”

Joel shifted at the sound of your voice, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. His gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the frustration from earlier melting away just a little. “I like the sound of that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges. His eyes swept over you, lingering for a beat too long.

You could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it took in the sight of you in his oversized T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, the hem of the shirt brushing just above your knees. There was something unreadable in his expression, though the way his brow ticked up ever so slightly told you he probably had the wrong idea about how exactly you planned to help him relax.

The corner of your mouth twitched with amusement as you climbed onto the bed, careful not to spill the bowl in your hands. Joel’s eyes followed your every move, curiosity flickering in their depths as he tilted his head slightly.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from the bowl in your hands to your face and back again, his expression suspicious. “The hell is that?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with skepticism.

“A face mask,” you replied simply, your tone as matter-of-fact as if you’d just declared the sky was blue.

Joel’s brows knit together, his confusion almost comical. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were trying to puzzle out some great mystery. “For your face,” you added, enunciating each word slowly like he might not have understood.

His reaction was immediate—his lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line, and he leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. “No way in hell you’re puttin’ that shit on me,” he said, his voice firm, like he was drawing a line in the sand.

You pouted dramatically, sticking your bottom lip out just enough to make him groan, the sound low and reluctant as his head tilted back against the headboard. “Oh, come on, Joel,” you coaxed, your voice lilting with playful innocence. “It’s supposed to be good for your skin. Don’t you trust me?”

Joel groaned, a deep, reluctant sound as his head leaned back against the headboard. “An old man like me is way past carin’ about his skin,” he muttered, shaking his head.

His eyes snapped back to yours, narrowing suspiciously, but before he could protest again, you leaned in closer, letting your fingers brush ever so lightly against the hem of his pyjama pants. “Maybe if you do it,” you murmured, your tone teasing, “I’ll help you unwind another way too.”

Joel froze, his gaze locked on you as the faintest flush crept up his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, visibly wrestling with whatever was going through his head. “You’re playin’ dirty,” he muttered finally, his voice low and gravelly, but there was no mistaking the way his jaw ticked, like he was trying not to let you see how flustered he was.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Is it workin’?”

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his hand over his face as though already regretting the conversation. “The things I do for you…”

Your face lit up with a triumphant smile. “Is that a yes?”

He grumbled something incoherent before sighing deeply. “Hurry up before I change my mind,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillow.

You squealed softly, unable to contain your excitement as you settled closer to his broad body, the warmth of him grounding you. With gentle fingers, you collected the rose-scented mask and smoothed it over his weathered skin, taking your time to ensure every stroke was perfect. The contrast between his rugged, sun-worn features and the soft, floral scent of the mask struck you as oddly endearing.

Here he was, Joel Miller—the man who could take down an infected in seconds without breaking a sweat—now lying still and letting you paint his face with homemade skincare. The absurdity of it made your chest swell with affection, and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.

You admired his face as he lay there, his features finally relaxed, the usual tension around his brow melting away. For a moment, he looked completely at peace, the lines on his face softer, his breathing slow and steady. Your eyes wandered over him, taking in the details you rarely let yourself linger on.

“You’ve got the prettiest eyelashes, baby,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could catch them.

Joel’s lips twitched, the faintest smirk forming, though he didn’t open his eyes. “Prettiest, huh?” he muttered, his voice rough but tinged with teasing.

“And the nicest lips,” you added softly, unable to help yourself as you leaned down, brushing your own lips against his in a fleeting kiss. His mouth curved into a smile beneath yours, the warmth of it sending a flutter of butterflies racing through your chest.

“Urgh,” you groaned, pulling back just enough to sit beside him, the bowl resting on your lap. “You’re so handsome.”

Joel’s hand moved without hesitation, even with his eyes still closed. His large, calloused fingers found your thigh, squeezing gently, the roughness of his touch making your heart skip a beat.

He chuckled low, a sound that was equal parts amusement and satisfaction. “Look at you, bein’ nice to me,” he teased, his eyes staying closed, though the smirk that tugged at his lips was impossible to miss.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you dipped your fingers back into the face mask. “Hey,” you said, swiping a playful line of the mixture across his forehead to smooth it out evenly, “I’m always nice to you.”

“Debatable,” he added lazily, the teasing warmth in his voice making you laugh.

“Shut up,” you shot back, still laughing as you set the bowl down on the nightstand.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his hand brushing against his cheek as he frowned. “Is it meant to be this cold?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, batting his hand away before he could smear it. “Don’t touch it.”

He opened his eyes then, fixing you with a deadpan look that would’ve been more convincing if his lips weren’t twitching. “You happy now?”

You grinned at him, your smile wide enough to make your eyes crinkle. “Very.”

“Good,” Joel muttered, leaning back into the pillow with a soft sigh. “Gimme a kiss.”

You leaned in obligingly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back, your gaze lingering on his face for a moment longer than you intended. “Okay, my turn,” you declared suddenly, sitting up and setting the bowl down before flopping back onto the bed beside him, your eyes falling shut in a dramatic flourish.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his skepticism plain as he turned his head to look at you. “You want me to…?”

“Yes,” you said, cutting him off with a firm nod, your eyes still closed. “You. Me. Face mask. Now.”

“Fucking hell,” Joel muttered under his breath, pushing himself up onto his knees with a grunt. The bed groaned under his weight, but he paid it no mind, instead staring down at the bowl like it was some alien artifact. “What, I just… put my fingers in it?”

One of your eyes popped open, and the second you caught the unintentional innuendo, you burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room.

Joel froze for a moment, realization dawning as his lips pulled into a reluctant, crooked smile. He shook his head, groaning dramatically. “Christ, you’re dirty-minded,” he muttered, though the glint of humor in his eyes betrayed him.

“You’re the one who said it,” you teased, your laughter finally subsiding as you closed your eyes again, a grin still tugging at your lips. “Just spread it on my face, okay? It’s not rocket science.”

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice low and quieter now, tinged with something softer. He dipped his fingers into the bowl, hesitating for just a moment before shifting closer. “Stay still,” he murmured, his tone gentler than you expected.

“Hmm,” you hummed, relaxing further into his touch, the gentle strokes of his fingers soothing you like nothing else could.

“My gorgeous girl,” Joel murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it.

Your lips curled into a small, pleased smile, the warmth of his words settling in your chest. “Hmm,” you hummed again, teasing now. “Am I the prettiest girl in Jackson?”

Joel hesitated for just a moment, and then he leaned down, his lips brushing your temple with a featherlight touch as he whispered, “Prettiest girl in the damn world, baby.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth blooming in your chest that made you feel like you might burst. “Joel,” you murmured, your eyes fluttered open, seeking his.

“Eyes closed, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice low but steady, a firm gentleness lacing his words. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the calloused pad grazing your skin so tenderly it made you melt.

You obeyed, closing your eyes again with a small smile, but you couldn’t help the way your lips curved up, warmth spreading through you from the way he spoke to you, the way he touched you.

He smoothed the last bit of the mask onto your forehead, his fingers moving gently, almost reverently. His eyes traced the lines of your face, committing every detail to memory.

“All done,” he murmured finally, leaning back just enough to give you space.

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, and the look on his face made your breath catch. He was watching you with a softness that stole the air from your lungs, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice almost shy now, the intimacy of the moment making your heart race.

Joel’s lips curved into that small, crooked smile of his, the one that never failed to make your stomach flip. “Anytime, baby,” he replied, his voice low and warm, as he set the bowl aside on the nightstand. Without hesitation, he plopped down onto his side of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he stretched out beside you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that felt easy and natural, until Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. He turned his head toward you, his expression equal parts curious and skeptical. “Now how long do we keep this shit on?”

You burst into laughter, the spell of the moment breaking just enough to make you grin. “Ten minutes, maybe fifteen,” you said, still giggling. “You’re already doing better than most.”

Joel huffed, shaking his head with mock exasperation, but the faint smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t really mind. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, settling beside him, your shoulder brushing his. His hand found yours without hesitation, his fingers curling around yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world

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planetpedri · 2 days ago

Text

No surprises 𖦹 Pedri González !

summary. pedri felt drained, his job sucking the life out of him with every loss —but you, his god given solace, was always there to give him a quiet, loving break.

word count. 1.09k

disclaimers. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and happy ending.

bea speaks! fcb when i catch you...

The ride home from the stadium was silent. The hum of the engine and the occasional buzz from either of your phones were the only sounds filling the between you and Pedri. He hadn’t spoken a singular word since you’d left, since the realization that, once again, his efforts had not been enough.

You glance at him, his profile illuminated by the passing street lamps. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He wasn’t hiding his disappointment, his sunken eyes and tight face only showcasing his exhaustion more. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles growing white.

“Pedri..” you say softly, reaching over to rest your hand on his arm.

He flinches at your touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Not now, cariño.” Pedri murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Leaning back against the seat, you chew on your bottom lip. You wanted to say something, anything, to pull him out of this spiral you knew he was going down—but you knew better. Pedri’s silence was his own way of holding himself together, insuring he wouldn’t break the moment he let himself express his hurt.

This wasn’t even the first time you’d seen him like this. Losing wan’t foreign to Barcelona. Not to mention the string of loses this season alone and the endless criticism from the fans and media. He bore the crushing weight of carrying the team that seemed to feel more broken with every match since October. But now, it was wearing him down completely.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of your shared home, Pedri parked, sitting motionless in his seat. He eventually dropped his hands into his lap after shutting off the car, exhaling a shaky breath and your heart broke at the sound.

“Lets go inside.” You urge quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Silently, Pedri nodded, his movements slow and heavy as he walked beside to you into the house. Once inside, he found the couch, instantly slumping into it and burying his face into his hands.

Eyes softening, you kneel in front of him, prying his hands away. The sight in front of you would’ve made even the strongest man weep. His eyes were glossy, his lashes wet with unshed tears. “Pedri,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, “talk to me, please?”

The dark haired man shook his head, jaw tightening. “What is there to say? Another loss, another fucking failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” you say firmly, eyebrows knitting together.

He lets out a bitter laugh at your words, sending a course of pain through your heart. “Tell that to everyone else. To the fans. To the team, who, by the way, can’t seem to keep it together. Oh, and to the club who expects everything from me.”

Frowning, you cup his face, making him look directly at you. His eyes search yours, desperate and pleading. “You are human, you are allowed to feel this way, but you are not allowed to believe that you are not enough. You are. These loses? They are not on you. They happen, and you can come back from them. You are not the only player on the team, this isn’t your fault.”

He lets out a ragged breath, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m tired.” He admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It feels like everything—the team and all, it’s falling apart and I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You are quiet for a second, eyes flickering around his face. He looked dejected, taking all the blame and stuffing it into himself and it is suffocating him.

“You don’t have to fix it alone. You have a team, Pedri. And you also have me. Let me help you carry this, let me be here for you.” Your thumbs graze his cheekbones, like the touch alone could press the words into his brain, forcing him to let it go, and let you in.

Your boyfriends eyes close slowly, a singular tear finally escaping his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice broken and weary.

Shaking your head, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You deserve everything in the world, baby. And I will always be here to remind you of that.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. His head fell to rest on your shoulder, and you held him like that, hoping the small moment would ground him. And it did, Pedri felt himself calming down. His breaths evened out and his shoulders relaxed.

Inhaling your scent, feeling your soft breaths against him, the way your hand slowly rubbed up and down his back—it made him feel okay for the first time since the loss.

“I scored tonight,” he sighed after the long silence, his voice an octave above a whisper. Despite the achievement, a lingering sense of disappointment was still in his voice.

“I know,” you hum, running your hand up his back to rest on the nape of his neck. “I was a beautiful goal.”

“But it doesn’t matter.”

You could groan.

“Doesn’t matter? It mattered to me.” Your lips form a tight frown. He was so hard on himself. Beating himself up over things that he should be proud of.

“Pedri, you got the man of the match. You were incredible, you always are. You scored a goal and gave your team hope. Sure, you lost. But, you still were amazing and you deserve to feel the pride from it.” Your words felt weak in comparison to how badly you wanted to comfort him, to assure him—but for Pedri, it meant everything.

He looked back to you then, his eyes softening. His heart felt warm, your touch was still warm, you were always the one there for him—comforting him. He loved you for it.

The burdening weight on his chest seemed to finally lift, if only slightly. “Thank you,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I love you.”

A smile lifts on your lips and your forehead rests against his. “Of course, and I love you.”

As the night wore on, and you were finally in bed together, you were his grounding point. The weight of your head on his shoulder, your legs tangled in his and your arms wrapped around him, it kept him comforted. In the quiet of the bedroom, you were his solace, always.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @cececarmona17

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez angst #pedri gonzalez x y/n #blurb #hurt/comfort #angst to comfort #angst to happy ending #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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levisjinchuriki · 1 day ago

Text

truly, madly, deeply

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

part 1

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something.

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face.

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you.

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes.

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful.

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”.

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his.

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before.

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache.

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left.

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill.

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close.

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together.

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

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forbebeandjam · 3 days ago

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Your Fan | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | fluff, flirty

Summary: after some trauma. You’ve never been a fan of dance or music but your friends convinces her to go to a dance concert for your youtube channel. The video ends up being a big success becuse of Bada’s flirty eyes.

Word Count: 986

No warnings.

Prompt by @chloebebewebe I really hope you like it!! 🤍 it’s kinda simple 🥹

“I can spot you amongst the crowd…”

It was a bright sunny day. Many would take this opportunity to go out and have fun. You however, were stuck inside of your dark room slumped on your couch.

You let out a loud grunt and another scrunched paper flew across the room. As a content creator, you were expected to upload content weekly or biweekly but the week had drowned you with school finals and social events you had to attend to and you completely forgot to plan something for the week.

You heard your door open and you tired to look at your friends staring at you from the door frame.

“Y/N, we told you to be ready by six. What are you doing?” One of your friends said as she started to pick up the papers from the floor.

“You’ll have to go without me. I am really struggling right now. I think I need a nap,” you said as you flung another balled paper across your room.

“What’s the matter? Still struggling with this week’s video??” Your other friend said as she picked up the wrinkled paper.

“Yes! And I need to film today or I’ll be doomed!” You said trying to sink further into the fluffy black carpet.

“Try not to laugh challenge? Y/N, these ideas suck…” you friend said

“I KNOW!! What do I do?” You kicked like a child.

“I have an idea!!” Your friend said.

“We could take you to that dance concert you refused to go. You film for content and then post that. You’ve never done a vlog before!” She said.

You grunted. You were never a fan of concerts and music. You had never been fond of any because you were forced to do recitals and competitions as a child and you grew to hate it.

The only reason you would tolerate music was to pick the perfect sounds for your videos and even then, your friends usually did that for you.

“I don’t think I’d wanna go to that place. I really hate things like that,” you said.

“Oh, come on! This will be great for your channel. If it gets too overwhelming, we can leave and we’ll help you film something else,”

You thought about it for a few seconds. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea after all. So you took the opportunity and as soon as you said yes, your friends got to work.

They ended up dressing you in a pretty dress and shoes. They fixed your hair and forced you to do your makeup. You packed your vlog camera and started to make your way to the car.

“Before we get there, how is this going to work?” You pulled out your camera and started to film.

“We’ll get there and get our bands. Sometimes we get a little souvenir and I got us front row so we’ll get a good view of all the dancers,” one of your friends said.

You began to do your work and filmed clips of anything and everything. You got to the place and did just as your friends told you to.

Suddenly, the concert started. You never stopped filming and you tried your best to enjoy it. The dancers were absolutely amazing and you obviously cheered them on but you couldn’t help but feel a gaze on you.

Every time the dancers would stop and talk to the crowd, a certain girls gaze would fixate on you. At first you thought you were going crazy but as the time passed it became more evident.

The camera always switched between you and the stage but her gaze was never lifted off you. After the concert, both of your friends wanted to greet the dancers and send them off. Of course they dragged you with them making you hold on to the railing.

Soon enough, the tall woman that was once looking at you from the stage, immediately spotted you in the yelling crowd as if hypnotized my you. She walked right up to you and held your hand.

You were taken aback by her actions and you didn’t know if it was the warmth of her hand or her sweet smiled that made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for coming out to support us. It means a lot to have such a star like you here,” then it hit you. That wasn’t any dancer. That was Bada Lee. Renowned choreographer and winner of Street Woman Fighter 2. And she knew who you were.

Your face turned a soft shade if pink and butterflies filled your stomach.

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I really enjoyed every bit of it. Thank you for having us,” you said. Her hand never leaving yours and she started to caressed your hand with her thumb.

You felt your knees almost buckle at her actions and you swallowed the knot in your throat.

“Hope to see you again soon,” Bada said before slowly walking away not letting go of your hand till she was far away and finally had to let go.

You took a deep breath and smiled.

“Looks like someone is starting to grow fond of dance, huh?” Your friend said.

“More like growing fond of the dancer,” they giggled and you pushed them aside.

But they were right.

You didn’t want to admit it but something about Bada… more like everything about Bada made you want more. You wanted to find a way to be closer to her even for a few seconds more…

You ended up editing and uploading the video to your YouTube channel as a vlog and in a matter of hours it had tons of views and shares.

Your clips were all over Bada’s fan pages on Twitter, TikTok, instagram, and much more. All crediting you and using funny captions or imagine captions.

All you could do was giggle and hope that you’d get to see the tall girl again.

Thank you for reading!🩵

#forbebeandjam #honeybee156 #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bebe #bada lee #lgbt #jam republic #street woman fighter x reader #bada lee x reader #bada lee fluff #bada lee imagine

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moonlightdreamzz · 22 hours ago

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late nights — bang chan, hyunjin, wooyoung, and niki. ♡

it feels so good to be seen and loved, especially after an exhausting day.

bang chan

truthfully, you don’t even know how you made it here in one piece—here, being chris’ studio. utterly exhausted doesn’t even begin to cover it, but the day is finally over, and you’re holding onto that small grace. not like you have much of a choice, right?

your eyes flutter shut for just a second as you lean against the door, the light thud startling you back to the moment. you laugh quietly at yourself, embarrassed by how ready your body was to believe this was the end of the day, before finally pushing the door open.

you and chris share the same curse: you work too hard, and far too much. so, it doesn’t surprise you to see him exactly as you left him this morning—headphones on, hunched over his computer, eyes flickering across the screen. even from the doorway, you can hear the bass pumping loud enough to feel it in your chest.

you weren’t planning on saying anything. the couch beside his desk had your name written all over it, and all you wanted was to curl up and let sleep take over until he was ready to leave. but somehow, you find enough strength to call out to him.

“baby.”

it’s almost immediate, the way his head snaps toward you, his eyes softening as soon as they land on yours. it’s like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. his headphones are off in seconds, tossed carelessly onto the desk. that alone tells you everything—he must think you look even worse than you feel.

he doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms wide, inviting you in. and how could you ever say no to him? you drag your feet across the room, collapsing into his lap without a second thought. his arms wrap around you tightly, and for the first time all day, you feel like you can finally exhale.

“you had a long day, didn’t you?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear before pressing a soft kiss there.

all you can do is nod, burying yourself deeper into his neck. he smells just like he did this morning, warm and familiar, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. neither of you moves for what feels like forever, but it’s the kind of forever you could get used to. his touch says everything words can’t—how much he missed you, how much he hates seeing you this tired, how much he loves you.

you want to tell him you should go home, that you need a proper bed, but you can’t. you know how important his work is, and you’d never forgive yourself for making him feel guilty about staying.

but then his voice breaks the silence, low and soft. “i think i’m done for the night.”

your head snaps up, searching his face for any sign he’s joking. “no, baby. i’m fine. keep working,” you say quickly, even as your body betrays you and leans back into his chest. the guilt creeps up before you can stop it.

his thumb brushes your cheek, and his eyes lock on yours with so much tenderness it nearly knocks the wind out of you. “the only thing i want to do is go home, run you a bath, and hold you while you fall asleep. this can wait until tomorrow. you’re the most important thing to me, and i need you to know that.”

he kisses you softly, and when he pulls back, there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “besides,” he adds with a wink, “if i don’t take care of you, who’s going to remind me to take care of myself?”

hyunjin

you and your man were both terribly sleepy babies. no matter how hard you tried to stay awake for each other on late nights, one of you always gave in first. it was a routine by now: a simple “i love you” text signaling surrender to the pull of a memory foam mattress or an irresistibly soft couch. there was never any guilt, just understanding.

but this month? this month has been unrelenting. you’ve been in full girl boss mode, pushing through deadlines and back-to-back meetings, while hyunjin has been caught up in the chaos of a comeback. you can’t even remember the last time you sat down together for dinner, watched a show, or just existed in the same moment. you miss it. you miss him.

when his schedule was calmer, hyunjin stayed with you as much as he could. but now, the dorm has him locked down. as you punch in your door code, you sigh, already feeling the emptiness of your apartment. you wish he were here—even if it meant finding him passed out on the couch, mouth slightly open, barely coherent as you whispered him awake and tugged him to bed

tonight, though, there’s no detour. no lingering in the kitchen or collapsing on the couch. you head straight to your room, already peeling off your jacket as you close the door behind you. exhaustion weighs heavy on you, but something feels… off.

your heart stutters. someone’s here.

you freeze. open your eyes, idiot, you scold yourself. slowly, you do, and your breath catches in your throat

there, glowing like a dream, stands hyunjin. a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, his smile stretching so wide his eyes crinkle shut. he’s radiant, like he stepped out of your imagination, but he’s real.

“baby,” you whisper, your voice trembling with disbelief. “what… how are you here? i thought—”

you don’t get the words out, too stunned to string them together. he steps closer, slow and steady, placing the roses and wine into your hands before cupping your face and kissing you, soft and sure. his lips feel like coming home

“i missed you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm against your ear. “it’s been hell not being able to see you, touch you, hold you. i’ve been trying so hard to wait, but when i called you this morning and heard how tired you sounded… i had to be here. i couldn’t let you come home to an empty apartment tonight.

you melt into his arms, burying your face in his chest as his words sink in. “i knew it,” you say suddenly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smirk spreading across your face. “you really can’t stay away from me. i’m irresistible, huh?”

he bursts out laughing, the sound warm and rich, making his whole body shake as he leans his forehead against yours. “shut up,” he grins, but his eyes are so full of love you can feel it in your bones.

The he cups your face again, pressing his lips back to yours in a kiss that feels like a promise. this one is different—hungrier, deeper, filled with everything he’s been holding back. his right hand gently takes the flowers and wine from you, tossing them onto the couch as if they’re the least important thing in the world.

“you’ve been stressed too, baby,” you murmur between kisses, your hands sliding up his chest as he pulls you closer. “you want me to make it better? take your mind off everything?”

“please,” he breathes, the single word trembling with desperation.

and that’s all it takes for the two of you to let go of everything else—the stress, the distance, the long days apart. tonight, it’s just you and him.

wooyoung

i know that the last conversation we had didn’t end on a good note. and i know you’re still trying to process everything going on with us and probably don’t want to see me. but I can’t help but feel like you’re exhausted and need something to take your mind off of everything you have going on right now. regardless of what we’re going through rn, i love you and I’ll always be here to make things better.

your heart aches as you read wooyoung’s text.

i’m outside. take your time. i’ll wait for you.

you didn’t think you’d hear from him tonight—not after the way your last conversation had ended. but that’s wooyoung, always showing up when you need him most, even when things between you feel fragile and uncertain.

you grab your jacket and step outside, the chill in the air catching you off guard. but then you see him, leaning against his car with his arms crossed, his hair a little messy, his expression soft despite the exhaustion etched into it.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world stills.

without a word, he opens the car door for you. as you slide into the passenger seat, you feel the familiar warmth of his presence settle over you like a blanket. he gets in, shutting the door gently, and the two of you sit there, bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights.

“you didn’t have to come,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

he turns to you, his gaze steady, his hand already reaching for yours. “yes, i did.” his tone is quiet but firm, like he needs you to believe it

his thumb rubs gentle circles against your skin, and it’s enough to unravel the tight knot in your chest.

“i know it’s been rough lately,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “but no matter what we’re going through, i can’t stand the thought of you sitting at home feeling this way. you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here. always.”

you close your eyes, his words sinking into the deepest parts of you.

he leans over, pulling you into his arms, and it’s like you’re a piece of a puzzle snapping into place. his embrace is so warm, so full of everything he can’t quite say, and you don’t realize how much you needed it until you’re here, breathing him in.

“you’re freezing,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “i should’ve brought a blanket.”

you let out a soft laugh, your breath brushing against his collarbone. “you’re the blanket.”

he smiles against your hair, holding you a little tighter. “good. then i’m not letting go.”

for a long time, you just sit there, his arms wrapped around you, his hand gently tracing soothing patterns along your back. it’s so quiet, but the silence is full of him—his love, his care, his determination to make sure you feel safe, even when things between you aren’t perfect.

“thank you for coming,” you whisper after a while, your voice muffled against his chest.

“i’ll always come,” he replies, his lips brushing against your forehead. “no matter what’s happening. you’re my person.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, it feels like everything might actually be okay. whatever else you have to figure out, whatever else you have to say, you can face it together.

for now, this is enough. this is everything.

niki

the studio was quiet now, the kind of quiet that made you feel how tired you really were. your body ached, your mind felt heavy, and the only thing keeping you upright was the cool press of the mirror at your back.

you closed your eyes, just for a second, and let out a sigh.

“you always look like you’re about to fall apart after practice,” a familiar voice teased, pulling you out of your thoughts.

your eyes snapped open, and when you saw him standing there in the doorway, you actually laughed out loud.

“niki?” you said, your voice pitching higher in disbelief. “what the—how did you even get in here?”

he grinned, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place, hands stuffed casually into his hoodie pockets. “i have my ways.”

“your ways?” you repeated, still laughing, though your exhaustion made it sound a little delirious. “what, did you sneak past security?”

he shrugged, his grin widening. “you’d be surprised what a little charm can do.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

niki stepped into the room then, pulling a takeout bag from behind his back like it was some big reveal. “anyway, i figured you might be hungry. you were going on and on about this the other day, so…”

you blinked at him, your chest tightening. “you remembered that?”

niki rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. “obviously. i’m not as clueless as you think.”

he walked over and sat down beside you, his legs stretching out across the floor. the bag landed in your lap, and the smell alone was enough to make your stomach growl.

“you didn’t have to,” you murmured, though you were already pulling the container out.

“yeah, well,” he said, leaning back against the mirror with a shrug, “i wanted to.”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, you forgot how exhausted you were. his face was calm, but his eyes were soft, like he was seeing you in a way no one else ever had.

“thanks, niki,” you said quietly.

he waved it off like it was nothing, but the tips of his ears were pink, and you knew him well enough to know what that meant.

“you worked hard today,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “but you always do.”

you smiled, but it felt bittersweet. “sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”

niki’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “it is,” he said firmly. “you are.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful, and you didn’t know what to say. so you didn’t. you just opened the container, took a bite, and let the warmth of the food—and his presence—melt away the edges of your day.

he didn’t say anything else, just stayed there beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed when one of you moved.

and maybe you were both too scared to say it out loud, too scared to ruin whatever this was, but in that moment, you knew: he was your safe place. and maybe, just maybe, you were his too.

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nislost · 23 hours ago

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unvirgin | chapter 6

warnings: suggestive, people being mean again

(written + smau)

you’re driving back to your apartment after you finished your class. you have 2 hours to get ready and you need to look good. you quickly jump in the shower to shave and take off all that school stench off of you.

after two hours you check how you look in the mirror and you feel good. wearing the two piece outfit your friends voted on that consisted of a tight miniskirt that matched the cropped jacket you had and platform heels because who are you without your heels?

you rush out the door and make your way to the library after you notice you’re 5 minutes late. at least you’ll be fashionably late! you walk into the library searching for the black haired boy and when you do you smile walking your way over. tapping jeno on his shoulder he turns around startled.

“sorry i’m late” you whisper giving him an apologetic smile. “i-it’s fine don’t worry” he whispers before clearing his voice his eyes looking everywhere but you. you giggle at his nervous state before sitting in the empty seat next to him. you noticed he looked good really good…why? well he’s wearing the number 1 kitty cat defeater. gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie.

“so what did you need help with?” jeno asks softly not to bother others around. “everything” you groan “i swear math is my worst enemy” he chuckles at your words. “okay let’s start from the beginning of the topic we’re currently learning” he says as he takes out a stack of textbooks from his bag causing your jaw to drop.

your reaction makes him giggle which in return causes you to pout. “stop laughing at my pain” you mutter. you prepare mentally and physically for the time you’ll be spending here.

30 minutes in your brain is hurting and you’re completely frustrated. you begin working on a problem jeno gave you until your ears pick up a conversation behind you “omg did you see y/n with jeno?” one voice says “omg yeah i bet she’s trying to get into his pants” the other voice replies with a giggle. you can’t blame them you have a reputation, but it doesn’t give them the right to talk about you like that. “she’s such a fucking slut. poor jeno” the first voice says.

jeno notices your mood change and the conversation behind him. “i heard she fucked the principal and that’s why she’s here” they just kept going. they were wrong the reason you even got into this university was because you (kinda) tried in high school. don’t get you wrong you never studied or anything you just did the bare minimum and that got you a 3.4 gpa.

your friends wondered what happened since then and it’s just because you lost motivation and wanted to have more fun, but look where that landed you. you get up from your seat causing jeno to look at you confused and worried. you give him a smile “i’ll be right back” you state before you walking over to where those girls were.

seeing you in front of them made them shocked “what? you can talk shit about me behind my back why not in my face” you raise your brow waiting for them to respond. they just look at each other before one of them finally speaks up. “w-well it’s not like we’re wrong! look at yourself you dress like a prostitute” she spits out. the other girl taps her friend and points somewhere behind you. you turn around confused and see jeno.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. both the girls in front of you begin to stutter “n-nothing” “nothing at all! we’re just talking about how much we love y/n’s outfit” you roll your eyes at their words. jeno just hums in response before grabbing your arm and taking you back to your table. “anyways let’s continue our tutoring. don’t let anyone distract you.” he says giving you back your pencil.

you sigh before continuing solving the equations given.

2 hours pass and you’ve grown tired. “do you think we can stop for today?” you ask letting out a yawn. jeno chuckles before nodding. “oh i forgot to ask earlier but what would you want in return for you helping me? money, food or something else? i’m okay with doing anything” you turn to him. jeno ponders seeing if there is anything you could possibly help or do for him.

“can- no never mind that’s too embarrassing to ask for” he says blushing and looking away. this interests you a lot and makes you wonder. “just ask i already said id do anything” you say softly somewhat implying something. “i-i can’t” he stutters his nervousness makes you grin. you place a hand on his thigh to “comfort” him and it causes him to flinch. “jeno you can tell me” you pout tilting your head. he looks at the hand on his thigh then up at you.

“i have no experience…in you know” he mutters because you could hardly hear him you lean in closer “repeat what you said louder” he looks at you all flustered which makes something purr and it’s definitely not your pet cat at home. “can you h-help me um” he groans “take your time baby” you giggle. his ears perk up at the nickname you didn’t even realize you said.

“can you um unvirgin me?” he says softly looking at you with a vulnerable expression. you can’t help but giggle “unvirgin? seriously?” he looks at you embarrassed. “jeno are you sure? wouldn’t you want to save something like that for someone special?” you giggle again “i have no experience and everyone around our age has at least done it once and all my friends tease me” he looks at you with a pleading gaze.

“fine. i’ll unvirgin you, but only if i pass a math test. just so that’ll give you time to think this through” you stand up. jeno quickly nods before standing up as well and walking you to your car. “u-uh ill text you about our next session” he stutters slightly which makes him want to punch himself. you nod before driving off.

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 days ago

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I won't say I'm In Love || Gregory House ||

A/n: I couldn't resist

It had been another long day at Princeton-Plainsboro, and you one found yourself in the break room late in the evening. You were sipping on a cup of tea, trying to unwind after a chaotic shift. The hospital was quieter now, with only the faint hum of activity in the distance.

And yet, your thoughts were anything but quiet.

Your mind kept drifting back to him. Gregory House. The most infuriating, brilliant, and maddeningly intriguing person you had ever met. He had a way of getting under your skin like no one else—one moment infuriating you with his sarcasm, the next moment leaving you breathless with some insight so cuttingly accurate it was as if he could see straight into your soul.

You shook your head, letting out a frustrated sigh. This was ridiculous. Ridiculous, you told yourself. There was no way you were… that interested in him. Sure, there was something there—a spark, maybe—but House wasn’t the kind of man you could imagine yourself falling for. Right?

No way, you thought, groaning inwardly.

As if on cue, your best friend and a neurologist at the hospital, walked into the break room, carrying a file. She immediately noticed your faraway look in your eyes.

“What’s that face for?” She asked, arching a knowing eyebrow.

You blinked, startled, and quickly shook your head. “Nothing. Just tired.”

She smirked, sitting down across from you. “Uh-huh. Tired, sure. Or maybe you’re thinking about a certain diagnostician with a cane and a talent for driving everyone insane?”

Nearly choking on your tea you glared at her. “I am not thinking about him.”

“Really? Because you’re blushing,” she teased, leaning forward on her elbows.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even like him.”

You laughed softly. “You keep telling yourself that, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me,” you argued, though your voice lacked conviction. “He’s just… House. He looks at everyone like they’re a puzzle he wants to solve.”

“Maybe,” she said, tilting her head. “But I think you’re more than a puzzle to him.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Even if I did… feel something, which I don’t, it would never work. He’s—he’s House. He doesn’t believe in relationships, and he certainly doesn’t care about… this.”

She shrugged, a knowing smile on her face. “Whatever you say. But denial’s not a great look on you.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up abruptly. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got patients to see.”

As you walked out of the room, her amused voice followed you. “Keep telling yourself that, sunshine!”

Later that night, you found yourself alone in your small apartment, your thoughts still consumed by your interactions with House. You paced the living room, your coffee forgotten on the table. Your mind replayed every sharp comment, every moment where he saw through your facade, every time his rare, fleeting smile made your heart skip a beat.

'I’m not in love, you thought fiercely. I can’t be. It’s House. He’s arrogant, infuriating, and… and brilliant. And funny. And maybe kind, underneath it all… No! Stop it!'

You groaned, flopping onto the couch and burying your face in a pillow. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered to herself.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought of him. His voice, his piercing blue eyes, the way he could make you laugh even when you wanted to scream.

“I won’t say it,” you whispered, your voice defiant but wavering. “I won’t.”

And yet, deep down, a part of you already knew the truth. No matter how much you tried to deny it, Gregory House had already found a way into your heart—and you weren't sure you'd ever get him out.

#drabbles #drabble #gregory house #greg house #house #house md #house md x reader #house md x you #house x reader #greg house x reader #gregory house x reader

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marauroon · 1 day ago

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Part 2 to espresso I beg 🙏

W A K E U P C A L L — JAMES POTTER!

a 6am shift at the coffee shop was the last thing you needed after a students’ night out. and james is way too energetic.

james potter x fem!reader (barista!au) | 1.4k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — no begging necessary ml, i love this au sm

You’re almost falling asleep as you clean out the basin of one of the coffee machines. It should’ve been done by yesterday’s closers, but the universe obviously hadn’t punished you enough by just giving you a 6am opening shift on a Monday morning in the middle of December.

You honestly thought your fingers were going to fall off as you fumbled the front doors unlocked, but now, nestled into the warmth of the overhead heater you really do feel like you could fall asleep where you stand.

You get it to a point, people have places to be and things to do, even at 6 in the morning, but you also have places to be, places being in your bed and not standing behind a counter serving sleep-deprived business men coffee whilst they wait for a train.

But of course, there’s James, bouncing around behind the counter like he’s ready to run a marathon. You can’t figure out how the hell he does it, even after all this time working together. He’s like an Energizer bunny, perpetually full of energy.

“Oi, what’s the matter with you today?” James asks, his voice loud enough to snap you out of your almost-sleepy stupor. He’s grinning, completely unaware that you just want to collapse into the nearest seat and sink into the floor.

You glare at him over the top of the espresso machine. “I’m fine, just living the dream,” you mutter, your voice hoarse with the faintest trace of sarcasm.

James laughs and pulls a fresh batch of croissants from the oven, his movements effortless. It’s as if he’s been awake for hours, yet you know full well that he probably didn’t get much more sleep than you did last night. Between university assignments, the social committee work, and, of course, his infamous club nights, it’s a miracle he’s even functioning.

“Yeah, you look like you’re living the dream,” he teases, his smile never faltering. “You look like you want to crawl under the counter and hibernate.”

You roll your eyes. "You’re so chipper for someone who was at the same club night as me last night."

James shrugs nonchalantly, wiping his hands on his apron before grabbing the next batch to bake. “What can I say? I’ve got an unbreakable constitution. You know that about me.”

You snort, your tiredness momentarily forgotten at the absurdity of his statement. “Unbreakable? James, you’re literally always falling asleep in the running social meetings, I’m pretty sure you just don’t notice how badly you’re functioning.”

“Me? Fall asleep?” He raises an eyebrow, a mock offended expression crossing his face as he hands over a cappuccino to a regular customer. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent multitasker.”

“Right.” You’re not buying it. Not when you’ve seen him slumped in the corner of the student union’s meeting room, eyes half-closed, trying to pretend he’s taking notes for the event planning. You swear he’s somehow mastered the art of sleep while looking awake, and you’re in awe of how easily he pulls it off.

“I mean, if you’re tired, I can always take over for you,” James adds, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ve got more than enough energy to go around.”

You snort again, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “You’d be a liability on the coffee machine. I can’t risk you having a caffeine overdose and bouncing off the walls like a pinball.”

James grins, unfazed. “That’s just an extra perk! Think of how much more productive we’d be if I was bouncing off the walls. You’d get to be the lazy one, and I’d be the charming one, keeping everyone energised,”

You shake your head, though you can’t help but smile despite yourself. “Right, charming. That’s exactly what we need at 6am.”

The door to the coffee shop opens with a chime, and another customer steps inside, pulling your attention away from James. You greet them automatically, still feeling a bit dazed, your exhaustion not quite gone. As you prepare the next cup of coffee, you try to focus on the rhythm of the morning.

But it’s hard not to notice James in your peripheral vision, his energy contagious despite your best efforts to remain annoyed at him. How does he do it? It’s not just the fact that he’s awake and functioning—it’s that he’s always so alive in everything he does. Whether it’s the running social, the random nights out, or the mornings like this one, he always has that boundless enthusiasm.

“How do you do it?” you ask suddenly, barely catching yourself before you sound too curious. “How are you this... this awake? All the time?”

James doesn’t seem to be caught off guard by the question. He just leans on the counter, watching you carefully with that easy grin of his. “Let me get you onto this magical thing called micronaps,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, jazz hands and all to sell his ‘idea’. “Otherwise, you can always leech energy from the people around you. Like I do to you.”

“Me?” You’re almost choking on your disbelief. “I’m literally half-dead right now.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he’s sharing a secret. “That’s the point, love, I’ve stolen it all,”

You blink. For a moment, you just stare at him, the early morning fog of exhaustion making it harder to process what he’s saying.

“Okay, stop. You’re making me look bad,” you finally mutter, tiredness still edging into your tone. “You’re making fun of me now,”

James just chuckles, ruffling his hair in that way he does when he’s pleased with himself. “What can I say, it’s my favourite pass-time,”

You give him a side-eye, but you can’t quite muster up the same level of annoyance you usually would. Instead, you sigh deeply, rolling up your sleeves as you prepare for the next rush. “Whatever, you win. Happy?”

“Absolutely,” James replies, grinning from ear to ear as he hands over another order.

As the morning drags on, you notice yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the shift. James is right about one thing—he really does have a way of making everything more fun, even when you’re running on fumes. You catch yourself laughing at his jokes more than you want to admit, and despite your grumbling about your lack of sleep, you can’t help but enjoy the banter that flies between you both.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of customers, coffee machines, and laughter. Every time you catch James’ grin or hear one of his sarcastic remarks, you feel the weight of your exhaustion lift, just a little bit.

By the time your shift ends, the early morning fatigue has started to recede, replaced by a sense of quiet contentment. You’re still tired, no doubt about that, but it’s a kind of good tired, the kind you get after a productive day. And maybe, just maybe, it’s also the result of being around someone whose energy is impossible to ignore, even if you want to.

“So,” James says, tossing his apron into the back room as you both prepare to head out, “same plan for tonight?”

You look at him, suddenly aware of how much time you’ve spent with him lately. “Absolutely not. I’m just glad I made it through this shift.”

He winks, pulling his jacket on. “Come on. Besides, the night’s still young, and the student discount on pints of strongbow is calling my name,”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, good for you mate, I’m going to sleep.”

“Boring,” James says, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you both step out into the cold December air. “I’ll see you on the run tomorrow, right?”

You can’t help but smile, even as your thoughts drift to the never-ending list of things to do. “Unfortunately,”

“I’m sure an 8k will wake you from your hibernation,” he grins.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter

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