#oh it's just a perfect picture of a morning in a city

[hyperjellyfishfish]

how exactly does school work in pokemon? 🤔 'cause i headcannon that in the anime at least continually traveling trainers like ash do online school or smth. but then there's the actual schools in-game and in-anime,.. and AHGH it hurts to think about. anygays this is such a pretty piece and i went on a rant about it in the tags <33

🍂 Back to School Johto Trio 🍂

Drew this a while ago I just forgot to post it here lol but my favorite dumbasses of all time

Twitter link

[lacroixqueen]

you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)

deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink

You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 

You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 

Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.

“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 

You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?

“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 

The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 

You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 

“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.

“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”

“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”

You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”

He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 

“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”

“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 

“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 

“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 

You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 

Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 

“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 

“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 

“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 

He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 

“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”

He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 

And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.

“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 

And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 

He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 

“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 

“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”

“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”

And to his own dismay, he obliged. 

“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 

You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.

“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”

“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 

You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 

“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 

“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”

“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 

Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.

“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 

“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”

“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”

You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”

“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”

And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 

[reysdriver]

okay, just thinking about some celebrity daring to hit on sirius and he's like "bitch??" and then immediately runs to tattoo reader's name (VERY BIG) on the left side of his chest, right over his heart! and since he takes off his shirt at every show, everyone can enjoy the view (reader is also taken by surprise, she gets very horny if you ask me

Sirius shows the world where his passion lies — rockstar!sirius x reader fluff

warnings: allusions to sex, very suggestive

words: 1k

a/n: I love this request so much omggg that is such a Sirius thing to do (I could see James doing it too actually) but it's just PERFECT. I did change it a bit by making reader know about it beforehand but I hope it's still good! Also horny part 2 maybe... idk yet

You came back to the hotel room with coffee in your hand, a bag of pastries in your purse, and a tabloid magazine under your arm. 

With The Marauders on tour, you’ve been living out of suitcases with your boyfriend and your friends for the last couple weeks. You’ve all been sharing sleep schedules with wolves, staying up until dawn and sleeping later than everyone else in whatever city you were staying in. 

That’s precisely why you left to grab breakfast at eleven in the morning and Sirius was still fast asleep. 

By the time you got back, you walked in to find Sirius wide awake, but still in bed, tangled in the bedsheets. 

“Good morning, love.” Sirius said, shirtless with one hand behind his head. 

“It was a good morning.” You teased, tossing him the magazine. “Then I saw you in the news.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. It wasn’t at all uncommon for Sirius to be in the news or the tabloids, but it was usually for something he did, not some pop princess who writes songs you get tired of after two listens. 

Sirius sat up and scanned the front page, curious as to what was going on. 

Mary Macdonald makes her move on rock star Sirius Black; New musical romance in the works?

The caption was sitting atop a picture of the popstar in question onstage at a concert, her crop top showing off a fake tattoo on her abdomen with text reading Reserved 4 Sirius Black alongside an arrow pointed down. 

“Oh, come on.” Sirius laughed, throwing the paper to the end of the bed. “This is what got you all bothered?”

You set your purse down and brought the coffee and pastries over to your boyfriend. 

“Yes, so bothered I almost didn’t buy you a coffee. Be happy I did, though.” 

“Of course I’m happy. I love you, doll.”

Sirius lifted the sheets and held out a hand to beckon you into the bed with him. You obey reluctantly, putting on a dramatic pout as you crawled in with your boyfriend and straddled his lap. 

“You know you’re the only one for me, right?” He whispered, hands tracing along your hips. 

You combed your fingers through his perfect hair, a frown on your face. 

“Tell that to the singer-songwriter superstar announcing to the world that you’re the only person she wants between her legs.” 

Sirius smiled in a way that made it painfully obvious he had something stupid to say. “Love, there are millions of people who feel that exact way about me. Including you, I would hope.”

Damn, this man was exhausting. And of course you loved him for it. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to get out of the hotel bed, though your attempt was foiled by Sirius holding you back. 

You let him get his way, but gave him an unimpressed look that did not match his badly-stifled grin. 

“I’ll take care of it, alright?” He said, not elaborating at all. 

You shook your head, hoping he would say more about whatever PR stunt he had in mind. 

“Siri, what are you gonna do?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Sirius said softly. He took your hand in his and slid your palm gently across his bare chest. “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.”

✦✧✦✧✦

The next concert the band had was a few days after you first saw that magazine. You stood in the wings of the concert stage, just before the show started. 

All the other band members had gone onto the stage and started setting up their instruments and playing the long intro to the opening song; it was just Sirius left, saying goodbye to you before he started performing and you made your way to the VIP section. 

“You’re gonna do great, Siri.” You told him sincerely. 

He winked at you, cocky as ever. 

“I always do.” 

Sirius then softened and masked your tone. He held your upper arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’ll let them all know I’m yours, and only yours.”

“They’re gonna go crazy.” You smiled.

“Damn right, they will. I’ll see you out there.”

Sirius gave your ass a playful smack before jogging out to the stage before he missed his cue, so you went down to your reserved space in the audience to see the band play from the best angle. 

The audience lost their minds when Sirius ran onto the stage, per usual, screaming and shouting when all he’s done so far was enter. 

But once Sirius started singing, the crowd noticed something off about the performance—Sirius was wearing a whole shirt for the first time throughout this tour. None of the band acknowledged it, of course; they were too busy playing music to be worried about what Sirius was wearing tonight. 

Once the song finished, Sirius took a moment to say hello to the audience. After all the routine talking points—you know, your ‘how’s everybody doing?’ and whatnot—Sirius found it was the right time to say what he wanted to say. 

“I saw a magazine cover the other day, with my name on it.” He started. “And not for the usual reasons. Mary Macdonald, I think it was…”

Many audience members went wild at the mention of her name, either because they were fans of her music, or they knew exactly what headlines Sirius was referring to. 

“That was definitely an odd thing to wake up and see. But I’ve thought about it because it’s been everywhere, and I just have one thing to say about that.”

Instead of responding verbally, Sirius pulled off his black tank top with a smooth, swift motion, revealing his newest tattoo. 

Your name was printed loud and clear on his chest, right over his heart. He got it done the day the Mary Macdonald pictures came out, and he was ecstatic to show it off to the world. 

It caused quite a reaction, but you weren’t listening to the audience to know what they were even thinking. All you cared about was Sirius up on that stage, blowing you a kiss as The Marauders started to play the next song.

[lonely-ey3s]

Heartlines | Chapter Five

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : After an eventful night and morning between you and Harry, a bit of a surprise appearance takes your feelings for him to a whole new level - as well as his.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), SMUT (18+ MDNI), praise kink, mentions of a child having health issues, soft!harry, flirting, if I missed anything, lmk!!

word count: 9.7k

a/n: ya'll that new trailer that came out thursday for materialists - i will not survive... he looks so god damn good. ughh. enjoy 💗

also just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday alternating ride or die !!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

You woke slowly, sunlight stretching in lazy stripes across the ceiling, the faint hum of the city below barely audible through the windows. Harry was gone — his side of the bed empty but his scent still there, filling you with warmth.

You smiled when you saw the folded clothes left neatly at the foot of the bed: a worn Fleetwood Mac T-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants, both unmistakably his. A quiet message: Sleep in, I’ve got you.

You pulled them on and padded barefoot out into the apartment, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

The stillness felt different without him, but not lonely. The space was lived in, comfortable, and understated — a perfect reflection of him. And as you wandered through, you began noticing the little intimate details.

Framed photos dotted the shelves and side tables. Harry and his brother at what looked like a lake cabin, beer bottles in hand, laughing hard. Another one of him with a toddler strapped to his chest in a carrier, both of them wearing matching sunglasses. You chuckled and assumed that was his nephew, 'little Harry.'

Another with two little kids — a boy and girl — curled up in his lap asleep, ice cream melted on their shirts. You smiled. These must be his niece and nephew… Anthony and Esmerelda.

As you rounded the corner into the living room, your eyes landed on something unexpected — a sleek wooden panel on the built-in shelf popped open just slightly. Curious, you pulled it open the rest of the way, revealing a hidden toy basket tucked neatly inside. And not just any toy basket — it was full to the brim.

Barbies, G.I. Joes, building blocks, small dinosaur figurines, race cars, even a few slightly worn storybooks with sticky notes marking favorite pages. Your heart warmed. It wasn’t thrown together — this had been gathered over time, with love. Harry didn’t just watch them… he knew them.

You were still crouched by the toys when a sudden sound made you jolt — the click of the lock.

Your eyes found the clock on the stove,

'There's no way he's home already...'

The front door opened.

A man stepped in quickly, holding a set of keys and looking down at his phone. “Hello? Anyone home?” he called, before glancing up and spotting you.

You stood quickly, heart racing for a beat. He froze too — startled, but not unfriendly. His brows raised as he took you in.

He looked enough like Harry to make your breath catch.

“Oh—God, sorry,” you said, taking a step back. “You scared me.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

“I'm sorry, didn’t mean to,” he said with a quick smile, holding up his keys in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. “I’m Simon. Harry’s brother.”

Your eyes widened. “Ah, you’re the man in the picture!” You let out a chuckle of relief. “That makes sense. You look just like hi—”

Before you could finish, two tiny, giggling bodies darted into the apartment behind him, barely noticing either of you as they bee-lined to the hidden toy basket like they had radar for it.

“UNCLE HARRY!” Savannah called out, already pulling a Barbie out by the hair.

Little Harry followed right behind her, eyes sparkling as he grabbed a G.I. Joe figure. “Where is he?” he looked around the room like he was scanning for his uncle. 

Simon closed the door with his foot and chuckled. “Not here yet, guys. He just texted me that the meeting ran a little long. Said he’d be home in fifteen.”

You blinked. 'Shit. Did he text me?'

You stepped forward, hands shyly held in front of you. "Shoot, I'm um, I'm sorry. I didn’t check my phone when I got up.”

“No worries,” Simon said easily, then turned to you with a grin and extended his hand. “So… you must be the girl my brother can’t stop talking about. Y/N, right?”

You took his hand, smiling shyly. “That’s me.”

“He talks about you a lot,” Simon added, his tone warm but with a teasing lilt.

“Oh no,” you groaned playfully.

“No, no—don’t worry. All good things.”

Before you could respond, Savannah popped her head up from the toy pile. “Are you Uncle Harry’s girlfriend?”

You looked at Simon, who shrugged with a grin. “6-year-olds, no sense of boundaries…” he mouthed like that explained everything.

You laughed and crouched beside her, not knowing how to answer. “Maybe. Would that be ok with you and your brother?”

Savannah nodded seriously. “You’re really pretty. Do you know how to braid hair?”

Little Harry chimed in from beside her. “Do you like dinosaurs?”

You felt yourself ease, the nerves melting at their innocence and curiosity.

“Um, yes and obviously yes,” you said, smiling wide as they scooted closer to show off their treasures.

Simon let out a low whistle and looked at you. “You’re a natural.”

You glanced at him, then back at the kids. “So… what’s the plan for today?”

Simon’s smile softened a little. “I’ve gotta take Lindee to a doctor’s appointment. It’s a long one — some tests we’ve been waiting on.” His tone dipped, just slightly. “She’s been having a rough couple of months, I’m not sure if Harry’s told you anything… but, we’re still figuring it all out. We didn’t want the little ones there… too much waiting, too many questions, you know?”

Your chest tugged at that as you didn't know about her condition.

You only knew little parts about his family. Enough to know these two by name. But something unexpected made you want to help, be involved with his family, and life. You wanted to do what you could to help.

You nodded gently. “Of course.”

“We don’t know how serious it is,” Simon added quietly. “We’re trying to keep things light around these two."

He put a few things on the counter, some snacks and notes about the kids it looked like.

"I think Harry forgot he offered to sit them or messed up the days, he sounded pretty anxious about messing it up when I talked to him earlier — but honestly, if they’re with you for a few minutes, that’s probably going to be the highlight of their week.”

You smiled, touched, but understandably a little overwhelmed. “I’m happy to keep them company until he gets home.”

“Appreciate it,” Simon said, then gave a pointed glance toward the toy explosion already happening on the living room rug. “And good luck.”

You laughed as he slipped out the door — and just as it closed behind him, Savannah crawled into your lap, holding a Barbie and a hairbrush, humming to herself.

Something about the simplicity of this cracked something else down in your walls. The domestic warmth blooming deep inside you made you excited and hopeful.

‘I could get used to this…’ you thought happily to yourself for the first time in a very long time. 

You sat there, cross-legged on the living room rug, surrounded by a kingdom of chaos — blocks, dolls, dinosaurs, a few puzzle pieces that had absolutely no business being where they were, and two very curious little humans who were now firmly attached to your orbit.

Savannah handed you a Barbie dressed in a ball gown and a sparkly purple shoe on only one foot. “She’s getting married today,” she said very seriously. “But Ken is late because his car broke down and he had to ride a T-Rex to the church.”

Little Harry popped his head up from behind a toy Jeep. “No, she’s not getting married yet. She has to fight the lava monster first!”

You gasped dramatically, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. “She didn’t prepare for lava! I thought this was going to be a romantic comedy, not an action movie...”

Both kids burst into giggles as you acted out Barbie swinging a plastic sword with terrible sound effects. “Hiiii-yah! Take that! For love and sparkles!”

Savannah flopped against your arm. “You’re funny. Can you come over every weekend?”

You smiled. “Only if I get to voice the lava monster again.”

Little Harry looked up at you, wide-eyed. “Are you gonna marry my Uncle Harry?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “That’s… a big question, buddy.”

Savannah tilted her head as she got off your lap to come sit in front of you with her brother. “Do you kiss him?”

You grinned and pulled your knees to your chest shyly. “Sometimes.”

They both made the most exaggerated gagging sounds you’d ever heard, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you have kids?” Savannah asked next, completely undeterred.

You shook your head. “Nope, not yet.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“No dog.”

Little Harry looked scandalized. “Not even a turtle?”

“Not even a turtle.” You shrugged with mock drama.

Savannah gave you a long, assessing look. “We’re gonna have to fix that.”

You chuckled and picked up the Barbie, fixing the dress. “I’ve got a family dog, though, but he lives with my parents… does that count?” You looked at the two sitting eagerly in front of you. 

They looked at you and then each other and grinned in unison before turning back to you.

“Does the puppy get to visit you?” Little Harry tilted his head. 

You nodded, “He does, once in a while…” 

Savannah perked, “What kind of puppy is it?” 

“He’s a mix, but he’s big and fluffy!” You smiled brightly.

“His name is Grizzly because he looks like a big ol’ bear!” You put up your hands like bear paws, then lunged forward and tickled their bellies. Loud squeals and giggles filled the apartment. 

After they caught their breath, Savannah leaned in with the wide-eyed look of someone about to share a very important secret.

“Uncle Harry talks about you all the time,” she said, voice hushed like a little conspirator. “When he calls Daddy, he always says he misses you. He said you might be the one the other day!” then she got up and walked away to get another toy leaving that bombshell.

Your heart skipped, and you let out a small chuckle at the abrupt remark.

“I’m sorry, he said what?” 

Little Harry nodded enthusiastically. “He said it on FaceTime! I was in the car and he said, ‘I don’t know, man… I think she’s it.’ Then Daddy told him to calm down,” he added with a proud giggle.

You blinked, stunned. “He really said that?”

Savannah turned and gave you a serious nod. “Yup. And after you met him at the wedding, he wouldn’t stop talking about you at family dinner. He told Mommy you looked beautiful, like a princess. And he said he couldn’t wait to see you again. He was smiling really big when he said that.”

“Like this!” Harry added, stretching his mouth wide and goofy.

You laughed, flustered and deeply, secretly moved.

“I… didn’t know he felt that way,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

Savannah shrugged in that way only a kid could and came back over to sit by her brother. “He even told grandma and grandpa about you, and daddy said to mommy, ‘It must be serious, he never tells my mom and dad about someone this early in the relationship. This girl must be someone special for him to open up about it this early'...”

That did it — your heart was officially a puddle.

You brushed a strand of hair from Savannah’s face and smiled. “You two might just be the best little gossip reporters I’ve ever met.”

Little Harry puffed up proudly. “We hear everything.”

—

Harry walked to his front door at a fast clip, raking a hand through his hair as he approached the door.

He hated being late for anything, but especially today.

The meeting had run longer than expected, and though Clarkson had been impressed, all Harry could think after getting a call from his brother this morning, was how he’d forgotten he promised to watch the kids — and how that now fell on you.

He had talked to Simon — told him you were there — but he hadn’t heard back from you since texting earlier to let you know. 

And now, nerves stirred low in his stomach. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because the idea of throwing you into chaos without warning made him feel like a complete ass.

He opened the door quietly, bracing for a mess or the aftermath of two tiny humans against well — you.

However, when Harry stepped inside, a bouquet of sunflowers in hand, he paused when he caught sight of you on the floor — a Barbie in one hand, a G.I. Joe in the other, voicing a dramatic monologue about lava monsters and true love.

He blinked once.

Then smiled.

Nothing could have prepared him for the swarm of emotions and feelings rushing through his mind and heart at the sight of you.

Savannah and little Harry turned at the sound of the door clicking shut and gasped excitedly.

“UNCLE HARRY!” they shouted, scrambling over pillows and plastic blocks to throw themselves at him.

He caught them easily, crouching to their level, sunflowers still clutched in one hand as he hugged them with the other.

“What’s goin’ on here, huh?” he asked, chuckling. “Looks like I missed all the fun!”

“Uncle Harry, she’s really good at dolls,” Savannah said breathlessly. “And she knows how to do Barbie’s warrior voice!”

“But... she needs a turtle,” little Harry added solemnly.

Harry looked up at you over their heads and grinned, shaking his head. “You’re magic, you know that, right?”

You chuckled and shrugged, “Nothin’ too complicated when it comes to playing Barbie and GI Joe…”

He smiled and held up the bouquet. “These are for you. For… throwing you into the madness…” his big brown eyes looking at you apologetically.

You stood and came over, accepting the sunflowers with a warm smile.

“They're perfect, Harry. And you’re forgiven... maybe.” you teased.

He chuckled and then turned to kiss each of the kids' heads, "I'm so happy to see you both. Give me a big ol' squeeze..."

They both wrapped their arms around him and hugged him tightly and squeezed him tightly. He acted like it was too tight and strained his breath, "Too tight! Too tight!"

They both giggled and let him go. He let go of his breath dramatically and chuckled at their reactions.

You chuckled watching him with them and squatted in front of him to meet everyone else at their level. Watching him with these two made you start to feel things that you don't think you've ever felt with someone before — and that made you a bit nervous, but in the best way.

Savannah turned and looked at your flowers, leaning in to smell them.

You looked at her smiling, “Did you know that your Uncle Harry is so sweet that he gets me a different type of flower every time he sees me? Just so he can figure out my favorite flower is?”

They both giggled and shook their heads.

Savannah turned back to Harry, gently placing a hand on his cheek and tilting her head. “What flowers are you going to get next time, Uncle Harry?”

He leaned into her hand and softly said, “I was thinkin’ maybe daisies or lilies… what do you think, nena?” (Baby girl)

She gave you a long, thoughtful glance, then leaned in and whispered something in his ear. His smile widened, eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

“Got it,” he whispered back, pressing a playful kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it happen.”

He stood, which you followed, setting the flowers on the counter nearby. His eyes became a little softer. “Thanks for watching them. I know that wasn’t the plan.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, “I didn’t mind. Besides, they kept me very informed.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the kids. “What secrets have you unleashed?”

Before you could answer, he lunged, scooping Savannah up with a gasp. “What did you say about me, huh?” he teased, tickling her sides.

Savannah shrieked with laughter. “Nothing! We didn’t say anything!”

Little Harry clung to his leg, trying to climb him. “My turn Uncle Harry! My turn!”

Harry tossed Savannah up gently and caught her as she kicked her feet mid-giggle. “Tell me!”

“Never!” she laughed. “It’s our secret!”

“I’ll get it out of you!” he growled dramatically, setting her down then launching a tickle attack on little Harry, who collapsed in a fit of squeals.

You were laughing so hard you had to lean against the counter.

When Harry finally lunged for Savannah again, you stepped in, gently grabbing his arm.

Savannah squealed and took off running down the hall. Little Harry wasn’t far behind.

“No! Leave the children alone!” you said dramatically, digging your heels in playfully. “Hurry, guys, run away! I can only hold him back for so long!”

The kids cackled with laughter as they disappeared down the hallway, and Harry grinned down at you.

You waited to hear them away from you before you looked up at him and grinned.

“I missed you this morning,” you said softly, your voice still tinged with amusement, but now threaded with something a little more tender. “Waking up without you after the night we had…”

His expression changed, warm and serious all at once. “That won’t ever be happening again,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure of that.” 

Your breath caught, just a little, and your cheeks turned pink.

You slid your hands from his arms up to his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt. “So tell me, how’d the meeting go?”

“Well,” he said, his hands settling on your waist. “It went well. We finalized the paperwork, and Clarkson didn’t drag it out too long. But honestly?” He leaned in a little closer. “I would’ve rather been here, with you… especially after this morning…” He pulled you closer by your waist.

Your smile softened, and you bit your lip playfully. “Were you late? You had to leave in a bit of a hurry…” You blushed, remembering how he left in a rush after you two got quite distracted by each other.

He grinned, his voice dropping just a little as he leaned in, eyes flicking to your lips. “Just by a minute or two.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Before or after Clarkson showed up?”

He smirked. “Still made it before Clarkson — so, win-win for me.”

He was about to kiss you when the kids ran back up and tugged at Harry’s sleeves. "Uncle Harry! What are we doing today?!”

Harry glanced at you and raised a brow, asking wordlessly if you were up for it.

You nodded, already enchanted by the tiny chaos monsters. “I’m in for whatever...”

He looked down at them. “How does the aquarium sound?”

Savannah gasped. “FISHIES!”

Little Harry screamed, “SHARKS!” 

They both bolted back to their toys to plan their sea-themed outfits.

He took that opportunity of being alone again and wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, leaning in, forehead brushing yours. “I was freaking out in that meeting thinking I’d left you in the middle of a hurricane.”

You smiled, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “It was a little unexpected…”

His brows pulled together, apologetic.

“…but honestly?” you added, brushing your lips against his, “It was one of the best first mornings I’ve ever had.”

He blinked, heart in his throat. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Your niece and nephew are adorable. Your lava monster voices need work though I heard.”

He laughed, and that sound—low, sincere, entirely his—vibrated between you. “I’ll make it up to you later. Properly.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning into his warmth as the kids shrieked over something in the toy bin.

He leaned in and kissed you softly, right in the middle of the chaos, before pulling back and whispering, “For the record, I missed you this morning too. I hated leaving you alone on our first morning together.”

You hummed and smiled warmly, “Today was only our first Saturday morning together… you’ve got six more days of the week to make up for today, yeah?” 

He nodded and leaned back in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deep kiss before pulling back and nudging your nose against his, “So, does that mean you’re here for the remainder of the week?” 

You lightly giggled and shrugged teasingly, “I guess that depends on how this aquarium date goes…” 

He cupped your cheek and smiled adoringly at you, “Indulge me on how I can make that happen?” 

You pecked his lips lightly, “Now, where’s the fun in that, Uncle Harry?” You smirked, then turned around towards the kids. 

“Alright, who’s got dibs on feeding the stingray’s first!?” 

They both gasped, turning around towards you and raising their hands, squealing, together, “Me! I want dibs!” 

The aquarium was buzzing with weekend energy — the distant echo of children laughing, the hum of bubbling tanks, and a soft blue glow cast across your face from the massive wall of swaying jellyfish.

It was alive with color — deep blues, greens, and flashes of neon swimming in vast, glowing tanks. The gentle sound of water moved through the air, punctuated by excited voices and the occasional splash from a stingray tank. It smelled faintly of salt and something oddly comforting, like childhood field trips and wonder.

Harry’s fingers laced with yours as you walked through the first gallery, the coolness of the glass displays offset by the warmth of his hand. Every now and then, he would gently bump your shoulder with his, or tug you closer when the crowds pressed in, and you found yourself leaning into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Savannah skipped ahead a few paces, clutching the “Scavenger Hunt for Kids” pamphlet the front desk had given her like it was sacred treasure.

“Uncle Harry!” she called over her shoulder, “It says we have to find a fish with spots! That means we have to look at every tank!”

Harry grinned and kissed the top of your head. “If you'll excuse me, I've been recruited for a very important mission...”

You chuckled and reached for little Harry, who had started wandering the other way toward a glowing wall of jellyfish. He took your hand easily, small fingers curling around yours with total trust.

As you walked together, you could feel Harry’s gaze drifting to you — soft, thoughtful, a bit like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, like he couldn't believe this was real.

You met his glances with the same unspoken warmth, the glow of the morning still fresh in both your bodies. The night before had opened something — the kind of emotional closeness that felt real. Today was only deepening it.

The two of them moved to the next gallery together. You and little Harry followed close behind.

At the touch pool, Savannah squealed when a stingray slid under her fingertips.

Harry crouched next to her, one arm around her back for support, the other guiding her hand carefully. “Gentle fingers, Savi. Just like I showed you, remember?”

The way he said her name — calm, affectionate, patient — made something stir in your chest.

Then little Harry climbed into his lap unprompted, tiny arms wrapping around his uncle’s neck. “I wanna touch it too...”

You stood a few steps back and watched the scene play out, your heart aching in the best kind of way. The way Harry whispered encouragement in his nephew’s ear, held him steady, and smiled wide when he succeeded — it was instinctive. Soft. Fatherly.

You could see it. See what he’d be like with his own child one day.

And that image, him with a tiny human who shared his messy curls and dimpled grin — made you fall just a little harder.

He looked up then and caught you watching.

His expression changed instantly — something warmer, quieter, blooming across his face.

He mouthed, "What?" like he didn’t know he’d just broken your heart open.

You shook your head with a soft smile and mouthed back, "Nothing."

When he stood and walked toward you, he slipped his free hand into yours again, thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“You okay?” he whispered, bending to kiss your cheek.

“More than okay,” you said, brushing your fingers along his jaw, looking up at him adoringly. “You’re… kind of amazing with them, you know that?”

His brows lifted slightly, eyes filled with something unspoken. “Yeah? You sure it’s not just the jellyfish lighting messing with your head?” He joked. 

You laughed and leaned in, brushing a kiss to his lips. “Pretty sure.”

As the kids raced ahead toward the penguin exhibit, Harry leaned close and whispered into your ear, “Thank you for the last 24 hours… I–” he looked down shyly as you both continued to walk. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a long while.”

You squeezed his hand and glanced at him. “Me too.” 

He looked at you and smiled, but there was something else in his eyes, something deeper, something that you saw last night but for a brief moment. 

Savannah ran up and grabbed his hand, shaking it eagerly, making you two stop in your steps.

“Uncle Harry, can I borrow your phone, please? I want to take pictures of the baby penguin to show Lindee and Mommy!” She pointed back to the exhibit, where a cute little baby penguin was sitting between its parents' legs. 

Harry chuckled, gently letting go of your hand to fish his phone from his pocket. As he opened the camera app, the lock screen flashed for just a moment — and your breath caught.

It was you.

Last night. At the masquerade ball.

You were seated across from him, in that deep red satin dress, the candlelight catching the curve of your smile. A champagne flute was lifted just barely to your lips, your eyes sparkling with something only he had seen. You hadn’t even known he’d taken it. It was candid, soft, and real — and the fact that he had chosen that moment as his lock screen made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

A slow smile spread across your face. “When did you take that?” you asked softly, your voice dipping below the hum of the aquarium crowd.

Harry looked down at the screen and grinned. “Snuck it at dinner. You looked... breathtaking. Couldn’t help myself.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away.

He handed the phone to Savannah, who took off excitedly toward the penguin exhibit. With his now-free hand, Harry slipped his fingers back through yours, and the two of you followed behind at a slower pace, watching her giggle as the baby penguin waddled across the rock platform.

“You sure you’re okay with all this? I’m sure you weren’t expecting to be on babysitting duty today…” he asked under his breath.

You squeezed his hand. “Are you kidding? This is the best day I’ve had in a long time. I don't care what I’m doing, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” You smiled over at the kids who were giggling as they took photos. 

Harry looked over at you, his brow softening, like he didn’t quite believe he was lucky enough to hear you say that. 

Savannah came skipping back with Harry holding her hand, both beaming. “Uncle Harry, can we take a picture together now? All of us!”

Harry grinned. “Only if I get to pick up you, mister!” Then looked at Little Harry. 

Little Harry let out a cheer and immediately clung to his uncle’s leg. 

With practiced ease, Harry hoisted him up onto his shoulders, little legs swinging over his chest. You laughed as Savannah ran to you and lifted her arms to be picked up.

“Me too!”

You bent and scooped her up, giggling as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Harry handed his phone to a woman standing nearby. “Would you mind?”

“No problem,” she grinned, angling the phone.

You stood side by side against the shark tank — Harry’s arm looped around your back, Savannah in your arms, little Harry on his shoulders — and smiled wide as the first click echoed.

Another photo.

Then another.

Just before the last one, Savannah whispered something completely unexpected and hilarious in your ear, “Do you think the penguins kiss with their beaks?”

You burst into laughter, turning your head to look at her. And that’s when the camera clicked again.

In the image, you’re mid-laugh, eyes sparkling, your hair slightly wind-tossed. Savannah’s cheek is pressed to yours, both of you joyful and completely in the moment.

And Harry? He’s not looking at the camera.

He’s looking at you.

His head slightly tilted, lips curved in the softest smile, eyes full of something deeper—something quiet and steady, soaking you in like he can’t believe you’re real and his.

When he glanced down at the photo afterward, he hesitated — just for a second — before locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket with the softest smile on his face.

You sat together near the otter enclosure after that, the kids mesmerized as two otters floated by holding hands.

You leaned into him gently, your voice quiet. “So… Lindee? Tell me about her, what’s going on?”

Harry’s jaw tightened just slightly, and he nodded. “She’s… been having headaches for a couple of months now. We thought it was just stress or allergies or, you know, kid stuff. But then a couple weeks ago…”

His voice caught.

“She had a seizure. During her dance recital. It was terrifying. Full room. Lights. Everyone watching. She just… collapsed.”

You felt your chest tighten as your fingers found his again, holding tight.

“Simon and Liv took her to the ER. Got her stabilized. She’s been home from school the last few weeks in case it happens again. But today, she’s seeing a specialist — a neurologist. They’re doing scans. EEG, MRI. Trying to rule out epilepsy… or something worse.”

“Cancer?” you whispered.

He nodded once, jaw clenched. “That word’s been hanging in the air like smoke ever since. They’re trying to keep it from the younger ones until they know what they’re dealing with. Trying not to scare them. But…” his voice cracked. 

You reached over and touched his cheek, gently turning his face toward yours.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “Not just for days like the masquerade or lazy mornings in bed. I want to be here for this too — your family, your real life. I’m here for it all...”

Harry stared at you, stunned for a beat.

“I’m really grateful you’ve let me in like this,” you added. “You didn’t have to, I know it’s not easy letting people in when things are this difficult and sensitive… but I’m so glad you did. I’m glad I can be here for you, I can take care of you…”

He reached up and covered your hand with his, pressing his mouth to your palm.

“I want you to know all the parts of me,” he said, voice low and steady. “Not just the man you kissed last night, but the parts that love fiercely. That protect. That laugh and cry and screw up sometimes.” he let out a soft chuckle.

Then he looked toward the kids giggling as they tapped the glass excitedly, completely oblivious to the weight of the conversation nearby.

“That means letting you meet the people I love and cherish the most.”

You followed his gaze—Savannah clutching the stuffed unicorn she’d brought from home, little Harry pretending he could speak otter.

And then he looked back at you.

And the way his gaze softened as it landed on your face confirmed that you were slowly becoming one of those parts he cherished too.

By the time you all made it back to Harry’s apartment, the kids were buzzed with aquarium energy and begging for pizza with “extra cheese and dinosaur nuggets”, which Harry diplomatically negotiated down to just extra cheese. 

After placing the order, he had been swept up into their whirlwind with a grin that hadn’t left his face since this morning.

You excused yourself to catch up on a few messages and work emails that needed your attention. You sat on the couch and began catching up while listening to the chaos around you.

“Uncle Harry!” Savannah called from the living room, clutching a book she’d fished out of the toy bin — a picture book with a faded spine and glittery stars on the cover. “Can you read this one? You do the funny dragon voice!”

Harry groaned dramatically but with a smirk. “The dragon voice again? That voice hurts my throat, sweetheart.”

Little Harry popped up from behind the couch. “Pleeease?”

He sighed in defeat, flopping onto the rug in the middle of their growing nest of pillows. “Fine. But only because I like you two.”

You smiled from the couch, glancing over your phone as you hit “send” on a short work reply. Harry met your eyes just briefly, and gave you a wink — like he knew you were watching. And then, without hesitation, he dove right in.

The dragon voice was absurd. Deep and gravelly, with a dramatic flair that made both kids squeal with laughter. He switched between characters effortlessly — a prince with a posh accent, a queen with a fake British lilt, a tiny mouse who spoke in squeaks.

You laughed quietly into your sleeve as he performed.

Then came the part where the princess confessed her love to the knight — complete with illustrated sparkles and cartoon hearts.

Harry read it in the most over-the-top romantic tone possible, fluttering his lashes as Savannah clutched her chest in mock swoon.

“And then,” he read, “they got married under the stars, surrounded by dragons and cupcakes. The end!”

Savannah gasped. “Uncle Harry! Would you ever get married under the stars?”

Harry chuckled, closing the book slowly. “I mean… sounds kinda nice, doesn’t it?” He looked at her, smiling adoringly.

“Would you marry her?” Little Harry asked, pointing right at you, eyes wide with the innocent boldness only kids could get away with.

You froze, still on the couch, pretending very hard to check something on your phone even though you were listening to every single word.

Harry let out a soft breath, his voice gentle. “She’s pretty special, kiddo,” he said. “If someone like her wanted to marry someone like me? I think I’d be the luckiest man in the world.”

There it was again, that feeling creeping back up. That feeling that can only mean one damn thing.

“Are you gonna kiss her again?” Savannah asked, giggling.

Harry leaned in, lowering his voice slightly — just loud enough for them, and maybe you, to hear. “That’s between me and the pretty lady, okay?”

“Do you love her, Uncle Harry?” she whispered back almost instantly, cupping her hands around her mouth like she was whispering a secret, even though it wasn’t quiet at all.

Harry paused, glancing once toward you.

You kept your eyes on your phone, but your heart was thudding against your ribs. You could feel a heat slowly creeping up your spine, butterflies completely going mad in your belly.

“I think,” he said softly, looking back at her, “when someone makes you laugh, and makes you feel like… well… you, and wants to be part of your world… it’s easy to start loving them...” He looked down at the book in his hands shyly. 

Savannah and little Harry exchanged a knowing look — the kind that only tiny humans with very big feelings could give.

There was a tiny pause.

“Will she come to Grandma and Grandpa’s anniversary trip with us next week?” Savannah asked, her voice bright again. “We need another person for Uno because Grandpa cheats.”

That made Harry laugh, full and real this time. “That’s true, nena... Grandpa does cheat." he settled his laugh and nodded. "And you know what? I’ll ask her later about the trip, how 'bout that?”

They both nodded excitedly and giggled softly.

He must’ve turned because suddenly his voice dropped to a near-whisper, as if trying to keep it between just them. But your ears picked it up anyway.

“She’s special, you two. The real kind. Maybe hold off talkin' about our wedding... we don't want to scare her off, yeah?”

Little Harry whispered something you couldn’t hear, and Harry let out a low laugh that made your chest ache.

You sat there on the couch, with a soft smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really. But you also didn’t want to move and miss a single word. Hearing him with them — patient, playful, and so full of gentle love, it made something in you shift again.

Just as you fell into your thoughts, a knock came at the door for the pizza, and the chaos resumed. 

Paper plates were passed out, juice boxes opened, and the kids settled in with slices twice the size of their heads.

You stayed on the couch for a moment, watching it all — Harry kneeling on the floor, passing napkins to sticky hands, laughing when Savannah got sauce on her nose.

He was so good at this. At them. At all of it.

And it made your chest ache in a way that felt like falling. It made you think back to just a few weeks ago when you were walking down the aisle with him – you had no idea this would be where you would be, that you'd be feeling this way. 

You had no idea you’d be falling in love with your brother-in-law’s best man after knowing him for less than a month.

It was crazy, right? There’s no way he felt the same way.

Later, after the pizza had been devoured and the sugar crash began to set in, the kids returned to their mountain of toys, chattering about which movie to watch. It was between Peter Pan and Aladdin. The two of them were battling it out in a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide. 

While that went on, Harry stood and crossed the room toward you, his steps slow and sure.

He came up behind the couch and leaned over gently, his lips brushing your cheek, then trailing lower to your shoulder, where he let a soft kiss linger.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and full of affection. “You still working, or… do I get to steal you now?”

You looked up at him, smiling. “Steal away.”

He grinned, that boyish one that reached his eyes, and nodded toward the growing pillow pile. “They want to build a fort. I told them it’s only possible with an expert architect.” 

“Oh yeah?” you teased.

“And I told them,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “I happen to be dating one...”

Your heart swelled as you slid your phone aside and stood, letting him pull you into a warm hug. You rested your forehead against his, both of you quiet for a second as the kids giggled behind you.

“You,” he whispered, “You are a huge reason today has gone so well for these kids. You’ve been my rock. Thank you…” 

You looked at him and smiled, “I’ve enjoyed being with you… seein’ you in your ‘uncle’ mode,” you teased. 

He chuckled and leaned in, gently kissing your lips once before you hummed and pulled away, speaking softly, “But wait to thank me… at least until after I’ve built the damn best pillow fort these two have ever seen.” 

You touched his cheek and grinned, kissing his nose. “One so fantastic – they get a second burst of energy that we will both regret…” You joked. 

He chuckled and leaned back in to capture your lips, kissing you slowly and softly once more, lingering on your lips before grinning as he pulled away, “Then it’s a good thing they are going home in a couple of hours, isn’t it?” then winked and started walking back over to the pile of pillows, your hand in his. 

The glow of the TV bathed the blanket fort in soft light, flickering over sleepy cheeks and tangled curls. Both kids had finally given in to exhaustion — Savannah curled into a pillow, one sock half off, her stuffed unicorn tucked under her arm; little Harry lay sprawled beside her, his tiny foot resting against your thigh.

You and Harry had shifted into a quieter part of the night. He was stretched out beside you, his arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, fingertips brushing soft circles on your hip beneath the blanket.

His breathing had slowed, and yours matched it — a steady rhythm of comfort and quiet.

You hadn’t said anything for a long moment, watching the movie together, letting yourself simply feel the warmth of him next to you… but something in your chest stirred. Not just from the softness of the evening — but from what you’d felt watching him earlier.

You turned your face toward his shoulder, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I tell you something?”

Harry looked down at you, his expression immediately attentive and soft. “Always.”

You swallowed softly, your hand trailing along his chest. “Back at the touch pool… when Savannah was scared to touch the stingray, and you knelt down with her and talked her through it so gently—like it wasn’t about the stingray, but about making her feel safe…”

He gave a faint smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded, something tight and wonderful forming in your throat. “It... It kind of broke something open in me...”

His brow furrowed slightly, not out of confusion, but with that careful focus he always gave you when you were trying to say something real.

“I’ve been… hesitant about a lot of things,” you admitted. “About letting someone in that far. About letting anyone in, period. About what it’d look like… long-term. About whether I could really picture all of it — marriage, family, all that." You softly sighed and a warmth filled your chest, "But today, with you… I didn’t just picture it.”

You turned, looking into his eyes now.

“I wanted it.” You paused for a moment, watching his eyes soften. “Harry, I want that with you.”

Harry’s lips parted, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw as if he needed to touch you to anchor himself.

You smiled through the sudden pressure behind your eyes. “I want forts on the floor. I want more aquarium dates and sticky fingers and bedtime books in silly voices. I want all of it… But only if it’s with you.”

For a moment, all he could do was stare at you — like he was trying to remember every single word, every blink, every curve of your smile.

Then, gently, he leaned in and kissed you — tender and slow, his hand tangling in your hair, his thumb brushing your cheek.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” he whispered. “And I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than being with you.”

You were about to speak again, about the ache in your chest, when the front door creaked open quietly, followed by the soft rustle of keys and hushed footsteps.

Simon’s voice came low from the entryway. “Harry?”

Harry gently eased away from you, crawling toward the edge of the fort and lifting one of the blankets aside to peek out at his brother.

“Hey,” he whispered back with a wide smile.

Simon stepped in with Liv just behind him. She looked tired but smiled warmly when she spotted you curled up among the blankets, and even more so when she saw her sleeping kids, at peace and content.

“Sorry we didn't knock... we didn’t want to wake them,” Liv murmured, crouching down beside Savannah, brushing her hair away from her face gently.

“You can let them sleep a bit longer,” Harry said softly. “We can carry them down.”

Simon nodded, but something in his face had changed — a stillness, a weight.

Harry stood slowly. “What is it? What happened at the appointment?”

Simon glanced back at Liv, then met his brother’s eyes.

“We got the results,” he said, voice tight.

You sat up at that, your chest suddenly hollowed out by the shift in the air.

Harry’s voice dropped. “So? What’d they say?”

Liv took a slow breath. “They confirmed it’s a rare form of epilepsy. Not a tumor. Nothing surgical. It’s… manageable.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped with visible relief, but Simon continued.

“They think it’s genetic — a rare juvenile type. We’ll need to meet with a neurologist and work out a treatment plan. Medication, maybe diet changes. But it’s not cancer. She’s gonna be okay.”

Harry exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair before stepping forward and pulling his brother into a tight hug. Simon clapped a hand on his back, jaw tight as he blinked quickly.

You felt tears prick your own eyes — a complicated, swirling relief.

Liv moved to gather Savannah, murmuring softly as the little girl stirred. Simon lifted little Harry, who barely blinked before settling against his dad’s shoulder again.

“We’ll get out of your hair. Thank you so much for today. I’m sure they had a blast…” Liv whispered, heading to the door. 

You smiled and nodded, “It was lovely getting to meet them...” 

Simon smiled at you and then nodded towards his brother, “Have a good night, you two. Thanks again for this.” Then he closed the front door behind him. 

When Harry turned back to you, you were already standing, eyes soft and warm.

He crossed the room in two steps, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his face buried in your neck. You held him just as fiercely, your eyes slipping shut.

“She’s okay,” you whispered. “They’re okay... It's going to be ok...” you comforted.

He nodded into your skin, a few tears falling from his eyes, feeling completely safe to feel these overwhelming feelings with you. 

And for a long moment, the two of you stayed like that — wrapped in a hug that said everything neither of you had the words for yet.

The two of you worked together to clean up the living room. Quietly chatting about soft moments today between the kids, picking up the toys, pillows, and blankets as you reminisced. The movie's credit music played in the background, and the warmth of the kitchen lighting created a soft atmosphere. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter after bringing the dishes to the counter, arms crossed loosely as Harry stood across from you, running a hand through his hair.

“Can you stay tonight?” he asked, voice gentler than it needed to be — like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hope.

You smiled, nodding once toward your shoes at the front door. “It’s late. And I think my shoes already made that decision.”

Harry smirked, eyes flicking down toward your socked feet. “Good. I uh, I didn’t really feel like watching you leave...”

You tilted your head, your voice softer now. “Even after today? The chaos, the impromptu babysitting, the emotional rollercoaster?” You teased. 

He chuckled and stepped closer, resting his hand on the counter's edge beside yours, voice becoming more sure and soft. “Especially after today.”

You looked up at him, heart already warmed, and something a little more vulnerable settled between you.

“I know it wasn’t what you probably pictured,” he said, voice low, “your first full day here.” 

You watched as his eyes danced over your features. “I wanted to cook for you, put on music, maybe convince you to dance barefoot in the kitchen with me..." He hummed as he found your eyes. "Not throw you into pizza-and-bedtime madness.”

You hummed softly and softly sighed before smiling. “But, I liked today,” you said, honest and firm. “I liked all of it. Even the madness.”

He smiled, gaze softening.

“Still…” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, “... let me make it up to you.”

You leaned into his hand slightly. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Let me take you to bed… start there.” He gently kissed your cheek. 

You blushed and felt butterflies stir in your stomach at thinking of what he'd do to make things up to you.

You smiled and turned toward the sink to gather the used plates and glasses from the counter, “Let me finish these up so we don’t have a mess in the morning, then I’m all yours. I promise…” 

He stepped up behind you, slow, quiet — until his chest was flush with your back. You stilled, the dishes becoming forgotten in your hands. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. The kiss was soft at first. Barely there.

Then another, just below your ear.

Then lower, to your shoulder, as his hands splayed over your stomach, pulling you gently against him.

“Harry…” you whispered, the breath catching in your throat.

“I’ve got someone hired specifically to do my dishes, hermosa…” he said, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. “Now come to bed.”

You set the plate down in the sink, heart suddenly racing.

And when you turned in his arms, he met your eyes with that same quiet intensity that always seemed to undo you completely.

Neither of you said anything – but you didn’t have to.

You simply stepped closer — close enough that your hands slid over his shoulders — and he swept you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist like it was second nature. His hands gripped your thighs, firm and sure, and he didn’t break eye contact as he carried you through the quiet apartment.

The hallway blurred as you leaned down and kissed him, slow and hungry and aching now, your fingers tangling in his hair.

The soft ambient light from the city spilled in through the windows, casting long golden lines across the sheets. His eyes never left yours as he hovered over you, the weight of the day melting into this single, still moment.

His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, and his voice came low, velvet-warm. “I thought about this all day. You. Here. Us, like this.”

You reached up, fingertips grazing his jaw. “I thought about it too.” 

Your eyes fell to his lips like you were under a spell. “I missed you in bed this morning… I wanted more of you...”

“I wish I could’ve stayed…” Then his lips met yours, gently at first. A kiss made of soft sighs and lingering warmth. He kissed you like you were the answer to every question he didn’t know how to ask, slow and steady, deepening until you were breathless beneath him.

As he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, he took a moment to just look. His gaze traced every inch of you, and when his eyes met yours again, something in them softened — not just lust, but awe.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “Not just like this. You… You are everything to me.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time — his hand moving across your side, like he needed to feel every part of you to make sure this was real.

That warmth simmered low between your bodies as you explored each other slowly, softly. His mouth found your collarbone, your shoulder, trailing kisses as if mapping every curve with intention.

You sighed his name, curling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to your body.

But then, his body shifted, not rushed, but more certain. His grip on your hips tightened slightly, his kisses deepened, and that softness between you began to smolder.

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard, voice dipping. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice trembling now with something more primal. “All of you.”

That’s all it took. His mouth met yours again, but this time it was different — hotter, hungrier. 

His hands slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, dragging them down with a low groan. He kissed down your stomach, slowly, reverently, then came back up to hover above you, his chest heaving slightly.

“I need to feel you,” he said, voice gravel now. “Need to be inside you.” He cupped your cheek gently. 

You nodded, pulling him closer, legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed against you — skin to skin, breath to breath.

When he finally slid inside, you both gasped at the sensation. 

He moved slowly at first, grinding his hips deeper with each stroke, his lips brushing yours, your jaw, your neck. He whispered your name, his hands anchoring you to the mattress as the pace between you built — slow burn to wildfire.

Every thrust, every moan, every whispered praise sent sparks shooting through your body.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed against your throat, kissing it gently. “I've got you, mi vida.”

You held him tighter, head tipped back as the rhythm built, pleasure curling at the base of your spine. The way he moved inside you, deliberate and overwhelming, making you feel everything all at once. 

“Please… keep going…” You mewled, back arching upwards, gripping his bicep.

“Yeah? Right there, baby?” He kept up the pace, sucking love bites into your neck.  

When it finally broke — that tidal wave crashing over you, it was nothing short of electric.

You clung to him, shaking, gasping his name. And he held you through it, murmuring things into your skin you barely registered through the haze of release. Soft, reverent words like, ‘so good, so perfect, I’ve never wanted anything more like I want you.’

And when the world stilled again, when the only sound left was your mingled breathing, he kissed your forehead, temple, and lips, grounding you back to earth.

“I want every night like this,” he whispered into your hair before pressing his forehead against yours.

You touched his cheek, gathering your bearings, and grinned as you panted softly, breath still uneven against his. “God… if this is what every night with you is like, I’m in so much trouble.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he looked down at you, completely wrecked and totally in awe. “Trouble, huh?”

You nodded slowly, teasing and breathless all at once. “The kind I wouldn’t mind drowning in, of course”

He kissed your lips once gently. “Then let me ruin you every night.”

He murmured after a beat. “Every night. Every morning. I want them all with you.” before he leaned back in for your lips.

He stayed there, inside you, kissing you slowly, deeply, letting your legs fall from his waist only to adjust, wrapping an arm under your back and shifting you gently, rolling you until you were straddling him.

He looked up at you, hands finding your hips as if they belonged there. “You have no idea how beautiful you are like this, do you?” he asked, breathless and grinning.

You leaned down and kissed him slowly. “I’m beginning to understand based on how you’re lookin’ at me.” You smirked against his lips.

Your bodies found a new rhythm — slower now, but deeper, more connected. 

You moved against him, your fingers laced through his, pinning his hands to the bed beside his head as your lips brushed his jaw, his throat, your name like a prayer on his tongue.

He groaned as you rolled your hips again. “Fuck, baby… you feel unreal like this...”

You moved in time with him — your forehead resting against his, your lips brushing his every time you moaned, like breathing each other in was the only thing that mattered. 

His hands slipped free to touch you again, one cupping your jaw, the other sliding up your spine to hold you close, anchoring you to him.

“I don’t ever want to come down from this,” he breathed, his voice a ragged edge of longing.

You put your hand over his and moaned his name before breathing, “Neither do I… I can't ge— fuck…” you gasped feeling him start to thrust against your g-spot. 

Your forehead fell against his as you started to whimper, “Oh god, you feel so good… right there… don’t stop…” 

He nodded frantically and whispered as he felt himself close to climax as well, “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?" then grunted feeling a deep pull behind his navel. "Fuck... where? Where do you want me?"

You nodded and your hips stalled as his continued to thrust up into you, breath quick and shaky, whispering. "Inside me..."

When you fell apart again, this time together, it wasn’t loud. It was felt. Felt in the way his hands held your hips still as he groaned your name. Felt in the way your lips pressed to his shoulder as you gasped into him, trembling with aftershocks.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you sticky with sweat and breathless, wrapped in a tangle of sheets and warmth of each other.

His arms held you there, one hand stroking your back, the other brushing through your hair.

“I meant it,” he whispered after a few moments of quiet, kissing your temple. “I want every night like this… every morning after. All of it.”

You didn’t lift your head. You just smiled into his skin.

“Me too,” you whispered, your fingers lightly drawing slow circles against his chest. “Especially if they all end with you beneath me, looking at me like that.”

He chuckled, sleep already tugging at his voice. “I’m sure I can arrange that, mi cielo.”

You felt sleep pulling you under it’s spell as you hummed in agreement before murmuring, “Will you be here in the morning? No early morning meetings?”

His eyes fluttered shut slowly as he hummed sleepily and murmured back, deep and low in his chest, “I’ll be right here, my love…”  

It took you a few seconds to register those two words. But when it clicked, your head shot up from his chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and heart pounding. Except sleep had already taken him as he began lightly snoring. 

Your thoughts began to swarm you with a number of questions:

‘My love?’

‘Did he really mean that, or was that just sleep mincing his words?’ 

‘Was it a term of simple endearment? Am I overthinking this?

'He says things in Spanish… does it mean something different in Spanish?’

‘Does he love me? He said he was falling – but does he actually love me?’ 

‘Shit. Do I love him?’ 

You slowly laid your head back down on his chest and thought about that last question for a moment.

After a few moments, a warmth spread through your chest, and a smile spread across your face as the realization hit you: 

You love him, and you think he might love you back. 

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

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[kings-highway]

hotel/travel headcanons because I'm in a hotel and my feet ache and everyone in london walks like they want to get hit by a car. Shipping as per my usual, mildly sprinkled here and there.

- kageyama and hinata racing to see who can get back to the hotel room first *every single time* they are returning to their hotel room, no matter how tired they are

- type A personality Suga methodically listing through every possible restaurant they could go to for dinner, and a different kind of Type A Daichi confused because he's had their restaurant itinerary planned for weeks and knows exactly where they're going.

- Asahi keeps stopping to offer to take pictures for other families on vacation so their Mom can be in them too

- Karasuno Third years traveling and Kiyoko is in charge of the camera and taking all their photos and she's having such a good time until after a few days Suga gets ahold of the camera and realizes she is just such a shitty photographer. Blurry, off centre, weirdly framed. Terrible. Suga bans her from photos and gives the camera to Asahi instead.

- on that note, Asahi takes fantastic photos.

- yachi also takes really, really good photos but she always panics and takes like 30 every time

- Daichi tries out a different morning coffee shop each day and reports back to the others ranking them. They all kind of love this weird morning routine and look forward to finding out if this morning will be better or worse than the previous despite the fact that he is the only coffee drinker among them.

- Kageyama and Hinata are terrible planners and never book anything ahead but Hinata's ability to make friends makes up for it. "oh no hotels in a 30 kilometer radius have vacancy? No worries, my new friend Paul says we can sleep in their guestroom."

- somehow Hinata hasnt ended up murdered but Kageyama is skeptical his luck will hold

- Karasuno Third Years are team "we walk for 2 hours between every destination to explore the city on foot" and the Karasuno Second Years are team "we have Uber'd everywhere and don't regret it" and hear the third years' travel stories and are horrified by how much ground they cover on foot.

- Noya is weirdly pretentious about only going to local "real" places and avoiding tourist traps and everyone has to tell him to shut up by the 4th or 5th site they see.

- Yamaguchi is so afraid of foreign cops that it starts looking like he's genuinely committed a crime. Tsukki has to constantly tell him to calm down if they pass one but "Tsukki I don't know the laws of this city what if we're breaking them right now-"

- Tsukki is the designated "speaker" of the first years when checking into hotels or other reservations, and has an uncanny knack for picking up languages, meaning by the end of just a couple of days in a foreign country he can do basic greetings and questions.

- on that, Tsukki always rolls his eyes and pretends like it's such a hassle having to do all the talking, sign reading and map navigation but he secretly kinda likes being a bit like a tour leader for them and being able to herd them around and take care of them.

- Kageyama got banned from trying to pick up languages naturally after he accidentally called an old lady something horrible

- Oikawa and Iwa take a selfie together outside every famous sit or historical building, and they always look great. These two are like the poster children for aesthetic traveling. The wind always makes them look perfect, the lighting is always clear.

- Oikawa and Iwa send a perfect photo back to Makki and Mattsun, who in return send the most fucked up off centre, badly lit selfie you could imagine with their middle fingers up

- Seijoh 4 stay out way too late and get lost at night. Thankfully none of them are "panickers" but it really highlights how important it is for at least one person to panic a little bit. It'll be 1 am and they're still standing on the side of the road 12 blocks from their hotel like "ahaha isn't this silly?" and then start walking in the wrong direction

- Iwa once got really sick on a trip and had to spend the day at the hotel, but when he was feeling better he went down to the hotel restaurant and met a celebrity and nobody believed him.

- Seijoh 4 are the guys who make way too much noise in hotel hallways

- Kunimi and Kindaichi did their first abroad travel together and it went surprisingly smoothly... For Kunimi. Kindaichi lost all his luggage, got scammed by a street seller, got lost for almost an entire day, sunburned and then got sick before their flight home. Kunimi took selfies with him and captioned them things like "just found Kindaichi again, his wallet got stolen" while holding up a peace sign.

- Ushijima really likes touring old museums and architecture as his preferred travel activity. He also really likes guided tours because "learning from an expert is always better than trying to teach myself."

- Tendou is fluent in way more languages than anyone on the team expects. And not adjacent languages, nobody was really that surprised when he started speaking Spanish, since they knew he knew French. But fucking Urdu? Since when, Tendou? Since when? What's next, Russian? (Yeah.)

- Tendou loves tourist traps. He collects the tackiest, gaudiest magnets from everywhere he goes and willingly lets himself be scammed to make sure he gets the cheapest, worst ones.

- on that topic Tendou is incredibly street savvy in foreign countries but incredibly unhelpful. Semi got pickpocketed once, and Tendou alerted him the moment it had happened, and when pressed as to why he didn't warn him before it happened, Tendou just shrugged.

- local women flirt with Ushijima like it's their day job. Like, statistically way more than anyone flirts with him in Japan.

- Shirabu is a victim of jet leg everywhere he goes no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.

- Goshiki always ends up over preparing for trips and carrying around way too much stuff.

- Ushijima and Tendou like to hold hands while they're walking anywhere. They only separate when they need to review a map. This may be because of Tendou's tendency to decide to go another way without warning and Ushijima's selective hearing when he's focused on a task. They could end up three blocks away before realizing the other isn't following.

- on that, neither of these two use google maps. Ushijima always picks up a tourist guide and city map from a local centre and they use a paper map for all navigation. Everyone's pretty sure they know about the internet, but...

- Kuroo's really good and finding free public wifi. He has like a sixth sense for it.

- Kenma is in charge of all planning when they travel. Kuroo makes him do it even if he claims he doesn't care, because Kenma will always end up picking things he actually wants to do, and then will actually be excited while traveling instead of feeling like he's dragged along.

- On that topic, Kenma will find really niche events or shops or things to do in a city and get really genuinely excited to go see some shop hyper specific to his interests, or some event that he likes, and Kuroo (or anyone traveling with them, really) always think it's incredibly endearing and follows him anywhere

- Fukunaga travels for the food, and that's it. He probably runs a mini travel food blog for friends and family back home. He'll hit up at least 5-6 places a day and try new things every time.

- Kuroo is always a little bit embarrassed to be seen as a tourist. He does everything he can to look less like a tourist and more like he belongs there.

- Bokuto is always just sort of along for the ride and never really knows what the itinerary is. Akaashi will tell him a hundred times what they're doing in a day, and he'll still be surprised when they're getting on a train to go somewhere.

- Akaashi is also an over preparer except it's never useless. He ends up needing pretty much every weird item he thought to bring and this is a bad thing because it validates his anxiety.

- Akaashi refuses to complain to hotel staff for any reason at all, so Bokuto has to do it, which sort of just embarrasses Akaashi more. Not complaining, but that he needed someone else to do it.

- Bokuto talks so loudly going down the street everyone knows they're tourists. He's Kuroo's worst nightmare.

- Aran and Kita have so many nice, long, sweet dinners exploring new cultures and enjoying their time together after Aran had turned off both of their phones.

- Atsumu is lost on the other side of the city.

- Osamu is looking for him but he got lost on the other side of the city

- Suna told Osamu he was looking for him but is still in the hotel room.

- Atsumu and Osamu both love a good hotel swimming pool. It's like their favourite part of a trip is a nice evening swim.

- Suna loves taking absolutely shitty candid photos of everyone in front of otherwise stunning sights.

- Kita actually loves travelling despite all the chaos, and ends up just sort of happily wandering along or holding Aran's hand while he listens to everyone else have a meltdown over missing their train (he had told them the train left 45 minutes earlier than it does, so they actually have time to spare, but he doesnt want them to slow down yet so he hasn't told them.)

- Atsumu tried to hit on a local once and they thought he was lost/homeless and gave him some money

- Couples that take photos kissing in front of beautiful views and historic buildings: Daisuga, Asanoya, Iwaoi, Bokuaka, Tsukkiyama, Arankita

- People who are too embarrassed to admit they want to take cheesy couple photos so they end up missing the opportunities: Hinata, Tendou, Makki and Mattsun,

- People who did bring it up and got shot down rather unfairly for being cringe: Kuroo, Osamu, Tora

- Couples confident enough to have sex in a hotel room: Iwaoi, Kagehina, Osasuna, Fukutora

- Couples that are confident enough, but one of them respected their fellow patrons too much to allow it: Arankita, Ushiten, Daisuga

- Couples that are not confident enough: Tsukkiyama, Kuroken, Bokuaka, Asanoya,

- Couples that successfully convinced their partners to say "fuck it" and have sex in a hotel room even if it was perhaps a bother to their neighbours: Ushiten, Daisuga

- Couples that unsuccessfully convinced their partner to have sex in a hotel room because their partner has significantly more logical prowess than them and is better at articulating an argument and frankly its embarrassing that they even tried to debate them: Arankita

[fluentmoviequoter]

Falling Slowly

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: You are Tim's newest rookie, and his favorite. He treats you differently, able to see that your past affects you, and the little things build up until you can't deny your feelings.

Warnings: so much fluff, brief angst, domestic violence (Tim and reader respond to a call & allusions to past dv against reader), one scene is inspired by "The Switch" (1x4)

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

A/N: This doesn't really fit in any specific season, so I put characters in the roles I wanted them to have and just made up some names to fill in the gaps. Hopefully everything makes sense. Please let me know what you think!

Picture from Pinterest

“What are you doing here?” Angela asks, surprised to see Tim.

Furrowing his brows, Tim answers, “I’m here for the TO meeting.”

Angela tilts her head back and groans, passing Nyla a 10-dollar bill.

“She thought you’d give up your position for Metro,” Nyla explains.

“I’d like to, someday, but not today,” Tim replies.

“20 bucks this is his last one,” Angela says to Nyla. “He still has the open invite to Metro and his patience can’t take many more boots.”

Nyla reaches to shake Angela’s hand as Tim rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Let me see his rookie first, then we’ll talk,” Nyla decides. “I’ve got a feeling a lot is going to change around here.”

“Like what?” Angela asks. “Nyla! Like what?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station on your first day as a rookie is both nerve-wracking and exciting. You’ve heard stories about boots making it through the academy to fail once they reach this level, but you’re determined. When you were a kid, you were in bad situations more often than any child should be, but kind police officers changed your life, and you’d like to do the same.

Waving to one of your police academy friends, you sit in the bullpen, waiting impatiently to learn which officer behind you will be your training officer. Getting the perfect training officer is up to fate, based on what you’ve heard, and your TO can make or break your career.

“Good morning, boots! I am Watch Commander Wade Grey. You have made it through the police academy, but don’t expect a pat on the back, your work is just beginning. This is the time to prove yourself, to show your TO, me, and this city why you deserve to be a police officer.” He pauses, moving around the podium to add, “If you should be a police officer.”

As you listen intently, striving to remember every word Sergeant Grey says, two detectives stand at the back of the room and evaluate the rookies.

“He’s only got one shot,” Angela mutters.

“If he gets the pretty one in the front, I’m not taking the bet,” Nyla says.

Angela looks up a row, her brows raising when she sees you. “If he ends up with her, we’re starting a station-wide pool and getting rich,” she adds.

“Now, it’s time to be assigned to your judge, jury, and executioner,” Wade says with a smile. “Or, as we call them, TOs. Our former rookie turned TO, Nolan: you’ve got Edward Henderson.

 Officer Nolan nods at Henderson, and you remember his story: a late-life rookie who got a golden ticket. Part of you wants to work with him and learn why he decided on law enforcement, but you only nod at Henderson before turning back around.

“Lance Vincent, you are with our newest TO, Eliza Reagan.”

Wade says your name with a smile that seems a bit more genuine than before. “Officer Bradford, last but not least,” he says as he assigns you your new TO.

You look over your shoulder, a small smile on your face as he nods at you. He is undeniably attractive, and you hope it doesn’t cause any problems.

“Oh, he’s a goner,” Nyla whispers under her breath when you smile at Tim.

“Should we tell him?” Angela replies.

“I think we’ll have to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Something about you bothers Tim. Not in the usual, grumpy-with-a-new-boot way, but he has a sense that you’re different. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, walking to Tim at the back of the bullpen.

He stands, offering a calloused hand to shake.

“I’m not going to pretend this is going to be easy or fun,” he tells you. “Being a rookie is the hardest part of your career, but if you’re a good cop under the uniform, you’ll be fine.”

Nodding, you promise to do your best and express your willingness to learn everything you can from him.

“Good,” he says. “Meet me outside the war room. We’re not wasting any time, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

Tim watches you walk away, and when you stop to let someone carrying a large box cross in front of you, Tim realizes that you’re hurting, or were hurting not long ago. The underlying need to help people is something he recognizes.

“She’s pretty,” Angela muses, walking to Tim’s side.

“Though you know that,” Nyla adds, smiling on his other side.

“She’s a boot. No different than the other rookies,” Tim argues, though his gaze is still on your back as you sign for your bags and weapons.

“Sure, she is. Why don’t you go put her through a Tim test?” Angela suggests.

Tim rolls his eyes as he leaves, wondering what hurt you bad enough to make you want to be a cop. He became a cop despite his hurt, but you’re young and bright – and too good for him – so there must be something in you that makes you worthy of this. More worthy (and more beautiful) than any rookie before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Several officers wish you luck, with one or two warning you about so-called “Tim Tests” while you wait for Tim behind the shop.

“Don’t tell me you have a checklist,” Tim begins, drawing your attention away from the shop tires.

“No, sir,” you answer. “Just being vigilant, I suppose. I’d hate to start my first day with a flat tire.”

Tim nods, asking where the war bags are. You tell him how you checked the contents and loaded them into the trunk, and he appreciates your brief explanation.

“Good work. The easy part is over,” Tim says. He seems to weigh his options before deciding, “You drive. Show me what you’ve got.”

He follows you to the driver’s side door, opening it as he reminds you of standard shop procedures. As Tim closes the door, you wonder if he’s a gentleman or if he followed you because he doesn’t trust you to drive correctly. Either way, you know what you’re doing, and you won’t let the man in the passenger seat distract you… too much.

Driving toward Wilshire Boulevard for patrol, Tim looks out the window. 

“Blue Camaro has an expired plate,” you alert.

“Call it in.”

You do so, hitting the sirens as you engage the traffic stop. Tim raises a hand to stop you from getting out.

“Remember your training. Don’t let the situation get away from you.”

His words linger in your mind, and you complete the stop with no problem, issuing a ticket and returning to the shop.

“I’m driving,” Tim alerts you, spreading his hand across the small of your back as he directs you to the sidewalk.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask when he starts the car.

“No,” he answers bluntly.

You lick your lips nervously, turning your attention to your surroundings. Suddenly, Tim pulls over and hits the brakes.

“I’ve been shot, boot. Where are we?” Tim demands.

Furrowing your brows in surprise at his actions, you answer, “Intersection of 12th and Meadowbrook, west of Redondo. There are several hospitals in a five-mile radius, but only one has a trauma center.”

Tim pulls out wordlessly, continuing his patrol route. Tim doesn't say much else throughout the few hours between his first test and lunch. He lets you point things out, answers your questions about the area and procedures, and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. When he pulls up to a small circle of food trucks where several police officers are waiting, he turns toward you.

“You’re doing well. I’m not neglecting to give you good feedback for any reason other than once you start riding alone, you won’t get it. My role here is to prepare you for your solo career, not hold your hand until you get there.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you for answering my questions,” you reply as you open the door.

Tim’s hand finds your upper back as he leads you to his favorite of the food trucks, a light touch that disappears nearly as quickly as it happened. You thank him quietly for the suggestion before sitting with your fellow rookies.

“Hi, Tim,” Angela says.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his annoyance breaking through his growing fondness for you.

“Just came to get some food. Your boot seems to be in a good mood.”

“Strange, I thought Tim’s thing was ‘break their spirits in the first hour,’” Nyla adds as she joins Angela.

“You two not have work to do or something?” Tim inquires.

“Something like that. How’s she doing?” Angela tips her chin toward you as she asks.

“She’s got good instincts, knows protocols.”

“But?”

Tim shrugs, turning away before Angela can dig deeper.

“I give it a week,” Nyla announces.

“Before what?”

“He can’t take it anymore.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance in your area,” dispatch alerts.

Tim grabs the radio, accepting the call as he hits the sirens and turns into a residential area. You chew the inside of your bottom lip; domestic calls are your least favorite, especially when kids are involved. Unwilling to show discomfort, you put on your best brave cop face and follow Tim to the door.

A young girl with a bloody nose and teary eyes opens it, and you glance at Tim before kneeling and asking her to come outside. She listens without question, her lower lip wobbling as you smile.

“He’s hurting my mom,” she whimpers.

Tim nods at you before tilting his head toward the shop. You direct the girl to stand at the edge of the porch and wait for you as you follow Tim inside.

“LAPD, put your hands up!” Tim yells as he steps into a bedroom.

Your eyes widen when you see the large man towering over the girl’s mother. He smiles as he reaches for something.

“Don’t move unless you want to give me a reason,” Tim says lowly. “Step away.”

The man looks toward the nightstand before taking a deep breath and giving up. 

“I got it,” Tim tells you before radioing a code 4.

You wait until Tim has the handcuffs secured to walk outside. The girl runs into your arms, and you pop the shop's trunk, setting her down as you retrieve a small first aid kit. She lets you clean her bloody nose, gripping your wrist when it stings.

“Where’s my mom?” she asks.

“She’s talking to my partner right now, she’ll be out in a few minutes,” you explain.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you answer.

“Mom!” she yells, letting you set her on the ground before she runs to her mom’s side.

“Get in the shop,” Tim commands as he walks past, his hand brushing your arm as he closes the trunk.

You obey, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting as he talks to the EMTs. When he joins you, he drives to a quiet, empty street before switching off his body cam and gesturing for you to do the same.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than you’ve heard.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t say what I want to hear. Domestic calls are tough but that wasn’t your first one, was it?”

You shake your head, looking out the windshield instead of at Tim.

“We all have reasons for becoming a cop, and some calls are harder than others. As long as your past doesn’t get in the way and put you in danger, it’s okay to be human,” he continues. “TOs are notoriously hard on you, but we’re also here for you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Tim shrugs, one corner of his lips upturned. “No more sappy stuff, we have work to do.”

“Oh, if you think that was sappy, I’ve got a lot to show you before I graduate to short sleeves.”

The comment catches Tim off guard and makes him feel something he didn’t expect.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the first week, you feel like you know Tim well. His hand spread across your back or shoulder when you’re in front of him, his little reminders that you’re not alone, that you can show emotion when the time allows, and every other little thing he does makes you wonder why there are so many horror stories around his teaching style.

Likewise, Tim thinks he has you down. You ask him questions, ask for his opinions, listen and apply what he says, and send him small smiles when he compliments your work.

But, it only takes a shift to realize that people are multi-faceted, and cops and rookies are no different.

“Good morning,” you greet, passing Tim a small box.

“What is this? A bribe?” he asks.

You smile as you reply, “Nope. Just something I found, and I thought you’d like.”

Tim opens the box, his eyes widening at the 2000 Super Bowl tickets, the Rams’ first win. “I can’t accept these.”

“They were under a bookshelf in my apartment, it’s not like I spent a million dollars on them, Officer Bradford.”

Tucking them into his pocket, Tim opens your door. “Thank you.”

You smile, and Tim thinks your joy is the better gift.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your first call of that day, you show Tim that you don’t just value his opinions.

“Shots fired!” you radio as you duck behind the car.

“Are you hit?” Tim asks.

Shaking your head, you move closer, trusting him to direct you and keep you safe. The men in the house you were called to have automatic weapons, and though you’re a good shot, you’re not a match for their guns alone.

“Backup is on the way, but I need you to do something for me. You trust me?” Tim adds.

“I do.”

“Reach around the back and open the trunk; just far enough to reach the latch. I’ll cover you.”

He stands above you, firing into the shattered window of the house as you slip your arm and back around the end of the shop and open the trunk.

“Good, perfect,” Tim praises as he ducks beside you. His knuckles graze yours as he leans past you. “Can you reach the shotguns?”

Glancing in the window above you, you locate them quickly. “I can.”

“Do it. I got you.”

Once the shotguns are in your hands, you pass one to Tim as you ready your own. Timing your shots, you take out two shooters just as your backup arrives.

“You’re bleeding,” Tim says, his adrenaline dropping as a tactical team takes over.

You look at your arm, just noticing your ripped sleeve and bloody skin. Tim lays his hands on your arm as he turns it toward him.

“I think it was just glass from the windshield,” you say quietly, pointing to the car behind you, riddled with bullet holes and broken glass.

“Either way, we need to get it checked out.”

“Officer Bradford?” you interject. “Thank you. For making sure I trust you.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” he mutters, so soft you can barely hear it.

He taps the Super Bowl tickets in his pocket as he rises to get a paramedic to check on you, and you smile, wondering how bad it would be if you fell in love with your TO.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tim points out. “I need to know that whatever is bothering you won’t impair your ability to work with me.”

“It won’t,” you promise. “Sorry.”

Tim considers pressing, but he trusts you. “I’m here. If you decide you want to talk about it.”

He exits the shop and opens your door before you can reach for the handle.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Did you see that?” Nyla gushes, elbowing Angela.

“Ow. See what?”

Nyla points to Tim, closing your door and laying a hand on your shoulder as he ducks his head to talk to you.

“That’s not a reprimand,” Angela deduces.

When you smile, a tiny upturning of your lips, Nyla laughs.

“Oh, that boy… The door, the touches, listening to her? He’s gone.”

“Not just him,” Angela adds. “She asks him questions, smiles at him, trusts him more than anyone… and the Super Bowl tickets? They’re adorable.”

“Should we do something?”

“Not yet. I think they’re close to realizing.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After your longest, and worst, day yet, you find yourself in a hospital waiting room beside Tim. He hasn't said anything since a speeding driver ran into your side of the shop, though you've apologized countless times (even though there's nothing you could have done).

Tim’s jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried it will snap. You’re sitting close to him, a bandage around your wrist and an ice pack pressed to your cheek.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Stop- stop apologizing, it’s not your fault,” Tim sighs.

His arm is on the armrest between you, and you move your hand toward his. When he doesn’t back away, you turn your arm to allow your knuckles to brush against his.

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him kindly. “He ran a red light.”

“And you could’ve been killed,” Tim replies, standing abruptly and walking away.

You slump in your seat, dejected and curious about what you could say to make him stop blaming himself for someone running into you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim and his rookie sitting in a tree,” Nyla sings under her breath.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” Tim replies.

“Right, because you’re too busy being mad that she got hurt. Cops get hurt Tim,” Angela reminds him.

“Not with me,” he begins, pausing to take a deep breath. “Despite what you think, I’m upset that she got hurt, not because I’m in love with her.”

“Whatever you got to hear, buddy,” Nyla replies. “But tell me this. If it was Nolan when he was a boot, would you have felt this bad? Even if I believed you didn’t have feelings for her, which I don’t, you’re different with her and you know it.”

Tim sighs, looking out the door at you. He knows it’s true; despite his constant denial, he does treat you differently because you are different, and you’re like a magnet, incapable of being ignored or forgotten. Finally confessing it to himself, Tim knows that his feelings for you will get one or both of you in trouble unless something changes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It is time for The Switch,” Wade says as he walks into the bullpen. “The day you ride with a new TO.”

You glance at Tim, who gives you an encouraging nod. He tells you that you’re a great rookie, but he also tells you that you’re pretty sometimes, which doesn’t seem pertinent (or always true, in your eyes). Wade says your name, and you look up.

“You’re with Nolan,” he tells you.

Smiling at Nolan, you cross your fingers under the desk that it’s a good day. 

“Henderson,” you call as he stands up, “what’s Nolan like?”

“He’s great. Really understanding and knowledgeable. A little talkative, but fairly easy going. Just stick to protocol and listen to his directions; you’ll be fine.”

“What about Bradford?” Vincent asks you. “Everyone says he’s the toughest. Anything I should be aware of?”

“I don’t think so. He’s quiet sometimes, but he’s great.”

You collect your war bag with the expectation of a good day. You will miss Tim, but learning how another TO teaches and his views can be invaluable. As you slide into the driver’s seat beside Nolan, you realize something: you like Tim as more than your TO. He means more to you than just being your teacher, your mentor, and a trustworthy officer. The thought hits you so suddenly you're not sure where it came from.

With each passing moment, you find yourself remembering something Tim said or wanting to tell him something, but he isn’t there. Nolan is kind and laughs at your muttered comments, but it is nothing like riding with Tim. As you think about all the little things Tim does, everything begins to make sense.

Someone yells your name when you step out of the shop to get lunch. Turning, you’re surprised to see Vincent storming up to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.

“Tell you what?”

“That Bradford has ‘Tim Tests’ and nothing pleases him!”

You glance over his shoulder, finding Tim and Nolan talking. Tim glances over at you, and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease until Nolan says something else.

“His Tim Tests aren’t that bad; he’s just teaching you awareness and safety.”

“He wants to end my career,” Vincent exclaims before muttering something about you not understanding as he walks away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s Vincent doing?” Nolan asks.

“That kid has no situational awareness,” Tim answers. “I stopped at a street sign, and he couldn’t figure out where we were.”

“He’s probably scared of you,” Nyla interjects. “And, no, Bradford, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“My rookie can tell me where I am, no matter what,” Tim adds.

“Your rookie is very good, I’ll give you that,” Nolan replies. “But Vincent has potential. Besides, your boot has people problems.”

Tim glances over at you, locking eyes with you while Vincent talks to you dramatically.

“So do I, but I’m still a good cop.”

Nyla watches as both you and Tim sigh before abandoning the conversations you’re in. She shakes her head, calculating her winnings if the betting pool goes her way.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the locker room at the end of the day, you’re surprised to be called into Sergeant Grey’s office. You sit across from him, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to spend your nervous energy.

“You are being assigned to a new TO. Officer Bradford has decided to hand you off to someone better equipped to teach you,” Grey informs. “But you’re not in trouble.”

You still your hands in your lap. “Okay. Effective when?”

“Monday morning. So, rest up.”

As you stand, Grey says your name, smiling as he repeats, “You’re not in trouble. This was Bradford’s decision, nothing to do with you. Well, nothing to do with you as a rookie.”

You purse your lips at his phrasing, and he chuckles before sending you out. Walking through the parking lot, you see Tim’s truck is still there and decide to ask him what happened. Standing by the tailgate, you chew your bottom lip as you wait, nervous that you did something, though Wade assured you differently.

Tim walks up unnoticed, saying your name to get your attention.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask, jumping straight to your questions. “I can fix it; there has to be a way to fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Tim promises. “I just can’t be your TO anymore.”

“Why not?”

Tim shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “It’s not appropriate.”

Your heart drops. Tim knows you have feelings for him, and it makes him uncomfortable; that’s the only explanation. Nodding slowly, you accept your fate.

“And I can’t do this,” Tim adds.

His hands slide onto your jaw, his palms against your cheeks as his fingers settle behind your ears, pulling you into a quick kiss. You only begin to respond when he pulls back.

“You’re the best boot I’ve ever had,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

“I’m not your boot anymore,” you remind him.

“That’s your fault. Those little gifts, and soft smiles, and how well you listen… You make it impossible not to fall for you.”

You laugh, leaning against his hands as you reply, “You do too. How do you think I felt when you called me pretty or touched my back? Then you kept comforting me and inviting me to talk. It was too easy.”

“Go to dinner with me?” he asks.

You nod, smiling against his hands before he moves to touch your back again, opening the passenger door as he helps you in. Tim slips his hand into yours, kissing your knuckles as he keeps you close.

✯✯✯✯✯

When the rest of the rookies leave the station, noticing that your car is still there, they ask each other if anyone has seen you.

“Bradford’s truck is gone,” Nyla notices as she walks out.

“Looks like we won,” Angela cheers.

“Where’s Bradford?” Vincent asks.

“On a date,” Nyla answers. “With his former boot.”

The rookies’ jaws drop, wondering how you managed to pull Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.

“Don’t expect the same to happen to you,” Angela says as she passes the rookies. “We all worked for this one.”

[ryewwww]

Umm, I loved bully gojo and 2 , what happened after he kidnapped her and yknow , non conned her , like is he just obsessed with her , ORRRR , is he obsessed with her aaanndd IN LOVE with her ? Will he force her to be his girlfriend and future wife. Will she try to pick herself up and make a good life for self even though gojo literally exists. Hmmmmmmmm???? Idk but anwyas that story atteee . Stay sexy , ..sexy 🥰💓

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference, pregnancy sex

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

-> Idk why but everyone ate that Gojo fic up for some reason😭

-> part 1

Oh boy, he is more than obsessed with you

You made it too easy for him

With your family being out of the picture and you having quite literally 0 friends

Isolating you… well you already did that to yourself

Your reputation at school burned to the ground the moment he decided to leak your sex tape

So there’s no going back to uni

He handed in a resignation letter on your behalf and though your boss was concerned, Satoru assured her that you’re alright, but your morning sickness has been brutal lately

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, telling Satoru to pass on her congratulations to you

Your roommate at your dorm didn’t give a crap (she has a big, fat crush on Satoru and when she found out he slept with you, she wanted to kill you.)

That urge only grew stronger when Satoru stopped by your dorm to move your stuff out and when she asked him why he was the one moving it, he simply stated,

“Well, she’s pregnant with my child so she’ll be living with me so I can take care of her.”

Safe to say your roommate spent the night ripping her hair out of her scalp

And you. You’re sitting in the sunroom with a cup of warm tea and a side of prenatal vitamins in front of you

You’re in deep thought when the door swings open and a tall figure enters in

He sits next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap so that your back is relaxed on his chest

“Did you take a look at the blueprints?”

“I did but… what’s wrong with this house?”

“Nothing. I’d just like a bigger home to raise our family in.”

He’s met with silence

“You haven’t taken your vitamins.”

“I will, I just, I haven’t been feeling too good this morning.”

To that he hums and leave a kiss on your neck

“How’s the dress shopping going?”

You pause and put your hands over his

“Don’t you think we’re rushing this? Why can’t we wait till after I’ve given birth?”

“I don’t wanna wait that long.”

You wanted to ask him why, but you knew it would result in the back of his hand meeting your soft cheek

You had already experienced Satoru’s aggressive side and you’d rather not deal with it until this baby is out of you

“I’m sorry, but I need to pee.” You squeak, escaping his grip and leaving him alone in the sunroom

5 days passed, and it was a big day. Your wedding day. Even though it was put together on such short notice, it turned out marvellous.

For a girl, her wedding day is supposed to be one of the best days of her life, right? It’s supposed to be magical, exciting and memorable… right?

So why are you sitting on a chair labeled “bride”, with your hair and makeup complete, staring at a one way bus ticket to the neighbouring city?

That leaves right when the ceremony starts

You had known about the bus ticket. Actually, an unexpected someone had given you the bus tickets.

Suguru, Satoru’s ex-bestfriend.

They had a huge falling out over a business deal and even mentioning his name sets Satoru into a rage. Especially if it’s his fiancee.

So as a lick back, Suguru offered to help you escape him. And maybe by the end of it, you’ll warm his bed once or twice, or better yet, marry him.

From Suguru’s perspective, it was the perfect revenge. Nobody knows Satoru better than himself. He knows exactly how he thinks and what steps he would take to find you.

He also knew that today would be the only day that Satoru wouldn’t be breathing down your neck because you were getting ready to be his bride.

At first, you didn’t believe it. But Geto is convincing. He thought about everything — down to the last little detail. He made you picture a life where you’re far away from Satoru and given a chance to start fresh again.

Going to the neighbouring city means you could have an abortion so you won’t be tied to the blue eyed monster for eternity.

Geto left his number on a sticky note that was attached to the bus ticket. You walk over to the landline and dial his number. After a ring, he picks up and once he hears your sweet voice, he smiles.

“Meet me at the corner of Xander’s street, there’s plenty of trees there to keep you hidden.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and the tips of your ears were hot. You knew. You knew that if Satoru had the slightest hint about what you were about to do, he’d drag you to hell and back. But the idea of marrying him, having his child and building a home for your family, was far more petrifying.

You slip into some shorts and a tank top before sliding out of the bridal room and using the nearest exit to leave the venue. You scurry along the trees, hoping and praying no one sees. The corner of the street was quiet and secluded. You had plenty of cover and you waited until a blacked out Range Rover pulls over.

The window rolls down and it’s Suguru. He tells you to hop into the back seat quickly before anyone sees.

You do what he says, except when you open the back seat door, you’re met with icy blue eyes.

Your breath hitches and before you know it, you’re being pulled into the car with Satoru screaming at you.

“You fucking lying whore! How fucking stupid can you be, hm?”

He placed you on your back and wrapped his fingers around your neck, slightly chocking you

“When Suguru told me that you accepted the bus tickets, I let it slide. I let it slide because I thought you were smart enough to know not to cross me. But you, you fucking bitch, you really tried to leave me at the alter! You really thought you could get away from me?”

He tears your shorts apart, revealing your white undergarments that you were supposed to wear under your wedding dress.

You couldn’t help but cry, spewing apology after apology. But he wasn’t having any of it. He unbuckled his own pants, pulling his thick cock out of his trousers. He spat down on it for lube and without a care in the world, entered into you.

“You stupid bitch- you thought you could run away and abort my baby?!”

He leans down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he tugs on your hair to expose your neck.

“If you thought, even for a second that you could hide from me and live a normal life after killing my child. You’re just as sick as me… And clearly, you don’t know who the fuck I am. So let me teach you.”

He lifted your legs to mating press, ruthlessly thrusting into you while you sob beneath him. You try resisting by attempting to pry his fingers off the bottom of your thigh, but he has a death grip on them

“P-please stop… It hurts — I can’t move or b-breathe properly.”

You hiccup, but he ignores. Instead, he picks up the pace, making you cry even harder.

“I’m s-sorry please! Please it hurts! I can’t-”

“Shut the fuck up and take it. Or I’ll ask him to shut you up with his dick. I bet you’d like that, you fucking whore. So eager to leave me, is it because you have the hots for my best friend?”

Your eyes glance at the rear view mirror, and sure enough, his eyes are glued on you

Which only makes you sob harder. Hearing no response from you angered Satoru. Did you really like Suguru? He pressed on your neck, and by the look of his eyes, you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“N-no! I don’t- I swear I- I’m just not ready to be a mother, please!”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

According to Satoru, the entire thing was a test for you. The falling out, Suguru giving you the bus ticket to help you escape, and meeting you at the corner of the street— it was all apart of the test. And you failed it. Miserably.

“And here I was, thinking that I had trained you to know better. To know better than to leave me. But you prove me wrong again and again.”

He finishes inside you. Suguru pulls into the back of the venue. Satoru pulls you up right and lays his forehead against your own.

“Go get your hair and makeup re-done. The next time I see you, you better be in your gown walking down the aisle to wed to me. Do you understand?”

“Mmh”

“Words”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Apologies for any mistakes. It’s pretty late. Also have mercy on me, I haven’t wrote anything in 9 months so it’s a bit rusty😭

[saintagron]

Hello! Do u have any modern cait headcanons?

hello ! modern!caitlyn headcanons.

this was a welcome reprise after my ap lang mock exam thank yew <3 cw. age gaps referenced sparingly (older!reader), implied sex, first time together, drunk sex (you're both equally tipsy), just a bunch of cobbled together concepts okay let's go!!

✶. oh frazzled city girl you are so special to me. she's set up in manhattan with a street-view apartment, large enough to hold a master suite and a guest bedroom and a little hideaway bathroom without even encroaching on the joined living room + kitchen. all paid for, of course, mommy's credit card automatically set to send out rent the first of every month.

✶. you wouldn't know that though—not with the way she runs around like she's a missed paycheck away from homelessness. perhaps you're a ceo and you've seen men with families to support lazing around on your dime for long enough that her productivity is refreshing. or perhaps you're her coworker, finally having someone competent to do projects with. or maybe the barista she gets morning coffee from, or the girl at the bodega where she gets her breakfast... so many possibilities.

✶. absolutely enthralled by gay clubs and lesbian bars. you ever seen but i'm a cheerleader? she's megan walking into the cocksucker the first time she slips into the club, id clenched in hand and so grateful that her sharp cheekbones make her look old enough that she doesn't get carded at the bar. (cait who can hold her liquor annoyingly well... she's totally obnoxious about it too.)

✶. thinking about meeting her there, buying her a drink and cooing are you sure you're old enough to be here? just to watch her cheeks flush ruddy. (i don't think she'd have alcohol flush syndrome.. but it would be fun teasing her about it.) or maybe it's your first time at the club as well, and you huddle up in a corner booth and giggle at the drunken dancers, getting progressively tipsier before she eventually propositions you.

("so.. how about my place?" she's significantly less subtle when she's drunk—there's no sly grin on her face or soft coaxing. but it's irritatingly charming, and you're tipsy, so you'll give her a pass. "you're so drunk." you laugh, giggling against her jaw. why you're smushed into the center of the booth when there's four feet of space on either side of you is unclear. but you're both very, very tipsy, and it's hot enough in here that sitting next to each other isn't a bother. "so are you." she accuses, and then falls back into her pleas. "come home with me." "very romantic, cait." "is that a yes?" "...whatever, yeah.")

✶. very giggly, very soft first time—because you're drunk and she's drunk and she won't stop waxing poetically about how pretty you are or about how your arms or stomach or thighs look so beautiful contrasting against her navy sheets. know she's sucking bruises purple and blue onto your skin (working extra hard if you're dark-skinned and they don't show up as well...) and getting so embarrassed about it in the morning. yup yes yay!

✶. and if i say she's addicted to candy crush... needs reading glasses but usually wears contacts. so in the morning she looks so scrumptious with the frames perched low on her nose but delicious! and tasty! are coming out of her phone's tinny speakers. smacking her blindly when it's too early and you're still buried in your pillow, telling her to turn that shit down.

✶. she's absolutely the type of girl that people take videos and pictures of on the subway. tall, with a perfect ponytail and a killer outfit. goes viral every time and becomes a little bit of an internet phenomenon.. she starts an instagram to post random shit like her paper target after she's done at the shooting range (almost perfect, of course) or the sunset from your apartment and she's just flooded with followers. ends up turning off her comments because of it.

✶. from the way she dresses, where she comes from, and where she lives, you would expect her to be another sheltered brat—stuck in manhattan without even growing up there—but she takes you to the most obscure places. a peruvian place in harlem, a hole in the wall sushi place whose owners know her by name... she's got restaurants upon restaurants to take you to. (she only knows so many places because she cannot cook for herself and ate out almost every night before meeting you... don't tell her you know!)

[m00nchildwrites]

Idk if this is a hot take, but it is definitely an unpopular opinion in the fandom, but...

Rafayel Wants Kids

A drabble, think piece.

Rafayel would want to be a father. Not right away. But, once him and MC finally FINALLY are able to get married again and everything is fine. The world doesn't crumble, and she isn't stolen away from him again.

And they have their honeymoon. The first one ever. And it's perfect and filled with love and passion and- she is still there. The next morning, he awakes to see her sleeping, hair a mess from their love making the night before. His heart flutters in his chest. His breath sputters as relief fills him because... he was almost expecting her to not be. Because there was this horrid fear that laid dormant in his chest, still, had since he first lost his beloved bride, that told him that he'd never truly have her- or at least- not for long. But, she was still there.

And she was there again the next morning. And the next. And even after the honeymoon, she was there at their home after work, and on their shared off days, and on days when his inspiration dried like the ancient seas, and a happy days. Oh, those happy days. They seemed more and more like happy days. Days filled with laughter and kisses and popcorn nights and cuddles and laundry days and- that monstrous thing in his chest loosened it's coil just slightly. It quieted it's hissed warnings, just barely. And Rafayel breathes deeply.

Months pass. They go to see his aunt perform in Paris, the city of lovers. Perfect for them. Perfect for her, his beloved bride smiling as she twirls under his arm as they stop to dance while street performers croon lyrics of love. And that night, after the show, maybe Talia would ask if they are planning to have children soon. A seemingly harmless ask, but MC sees how Rafayel stops breathing and that distant pained look flickers in his eyes, so she intertwines her fingers with his and gives Talia a smile, "Not yet. We want to enjoy each other for a while first." "Smart girl," Talia winks. And that's the end of the question for a while.

And Rafayel breathes, the coil in his chest unwinding a bit. Still, it watches quietly, waiting still. Prepared, just in case. But then his eyes and ears and hands and lips are full of her, her, her, as they tangle in the hotel sheets, and she whispers, "I love you, my husband, my Rafayel," into his ear. And that coil loosens once more, shrinks from a great big, scary thing to a shadow, a whisp of what it once was.

When their 1 year anniversary rolls around, to his amazement, MC is still there. She still greats him when he wakes each morning. Her guns still grace the dresser top in their shared bedroom. Her singing still fills his home- their home- when she busies herself cooking a meal for the pair of them or tidying up a few of their coats left like a trail from the front door. She is still there.

And he is so damn happy. So happy, he feels like his chest could burst because this is the most he had ever gotten of her. The most they have ever gotten at a forever. It makes the coil in his chest- that always laid in wait for the pain and agony to come- relax a bit and slip into a slumber.

And then, a few months later, a coworker of MC's at a work party makes a comment. The kind of comment people often make of happy, young, handsome couples, "You two are going to make the cutest kids!" He freezes as they continue. "It was so smart waiting a while, enjoy being together first. Do you think you'll try soon?"

He feels MC step slightly forward, in front of him, an unconscious move on her part. Always protecting him, his eternal Miss Bodyguard. His heart swells, and he wraps an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. She looks up startled with her big beautiful eyes, questioning, hesitating, but he sees it. That glimmer. That swirl of hope of a future she must have always kept hidden from him. A secret longing. And suddenly, he can see it too, as she must have pictured in her mind secretly. A little pudgy version of her and him looking up at him with those same eyes MC is staring ip at him with then, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat because, by the seas, he never allowed himself to dream that far ahead. Never dared to hope they'd get here. But they are.

And he loves her so fucking much. And he desperately wants to give her it all. Hell, he'd give her a whole brood of kids. A whole school of guppies, if she wished. Whatever she wanted. Whatever she'd allow. Little hims and little hers running around, making finger paintings and collecting shells and filling their home with squeals of laughter-

"Raf?" Her angelic voice calls him back.

His breath is shaky, but his smile is blinding as he answers the question at last, never taking his eyes off the love of all his lives, "Perhaps, we will."

The way MCs eyes lit up and she raises to press a kiss to his cheek hits him like the sun on a perfect beach day.

And that coil that lived in his chest for 30 millenia? It turned to dust, washed away in the sands. In it's place, peace settled, warm and serene.

He had finally done it. He had made it through the storms, had reached the shores, with her hand in hand. Their footsteps would leave a matching pair off into the perfect pink of the setting sun. He and his beloved bride, and maybe soon, a few little guppies by their sides.

[revasserium]

hiii can i pls request zayne with prompt 60 “home”? also love ur writing btw and i look forward to reading more of ur works <333

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

60. home

zayne; 2,264 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", whipped!zayne, implied sex, fade to black, zayne being a simp as per usual

summary: a friday afternoon

a/n: idk i just love writing dialogue for zayne he's so !!!!

The Hospital - Friday, 4:36PM

Linoleum floors and fluorescent lights; the smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeps and hums of heart rate monitors and nebulizer machines. He spends too much time here, knows the flow of the hospital like he knows the web of arteries and capillaries in the human body, the wards branching off of each other, the hustle and bustles of nurses and staff familiar, oppressive.

It is only in the quiet of his own office, with its big windows and even bigger piles of paperwork (be it virtual or physical), that he ever allows himself to relax. He glances at the vase of brightly colored tulips on his desk and allows himself a grin. He remembers the shape of you, can feel the weight of your hand in his as you’d tugged him around the farmer’s market on Sunday morning, pointing at the various vendors, asking to try a bite of this and a bit of that, until finally, you’d come across the flower seller — a middle-aged woman with a sweet smile and a gleeful glint in her eyes as she explained about the language of flowers.

“There’s sunshine in your smile,” you’d repeated, looking down at the yellow tulips before grinning up at Zayne.

“Perfect for you, isn’t it?”

He could hear the tease in your voice, see that familiar playful twinkle in your eyes and he’d raised an eyebrow before wordlessly handing over a few bills from his wallet.

And now the flowers sit, quiet save for all their brilliance, on his desk, in a simple vase filled with crystal-clear water. He stares at it for a second longer before pulling out his phone and swiping it open to your contact.

Coming home early today, he texts. Immediately, a typing bubble appears, and a second later, a short shoomp sound as your reply appears on his screen —

oh? dr. zayne leaving work early??? is the sun setting in the east today?

He chuckles to himself before dialing your line and a second later, your voice answers, a little hesitant.

“Hello?”

“If you’re going to be sarcastic, at least do it in person.”

Shuffling noises, and then — “Not my fault you’re never around for me to be mean to you in person.”

Zayne leans back in his chair with a sigh, “Hn. How’s shopping with Tara?”

“Fun! But my legs are getting tired…”

“I can meet you at the main shopping center around 5:30.”

A moment of quiet, and then “Ah… but that’s still an hour from now…”

Zayne scoffs, “I could stay till 7PM like I usually do —”

“No, no! That’s… that’s not what I meant — I’ll see you at 5:30, then? Don’t be late!”

You end the call before he can protest and for a second, Zayne stares at the screen, the picture of your smiling face fading after another few seconds as the phone screen darkens.

“Doctor? Your next patient is here,” the nurse calls through his closed door.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Zayne glances once more at the yellow tulips on his desk before pushing himself up and adjusting his white coat. He’ll have to make a note to change the water soon.

City Center Shopping Mall - Friday, 5:38PM

“You made it!”

Zayne turns at the sound of your voice to find you slightly breathless as you jog up to him, coming to a stop a few steps away.

“You sound surprised.”

A blush dusts your cheeks as you avert your eyes, “I — I’m not! I just thought… you might be a bit later than this.”

Zayne keeps his expression neutral even as he reaches out to take your hand, casually lacing his fingers between yours. He feels you give him a small squeeze and contents himself with letting you take the lead as the pair of you start to wander through the mall, glancing at the window displays.

“Oh… that smells good!” you both pause as the smell of scallions and garlic warms the air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I think it’s coming from that restaurant over there! Tara was telling me that it just opened a week ago and it’s already going viral online for their stuffed pancakes —”

“C’mon then.” Zayne starts off for the restaurant.

“W-wait! We don’t have a reservation! We’ll never get in!”

Zayne keeps walking, gently tugging you behind him till you both round the corner to see a truly impressive line outside the restaurant doors. He walks passed the massive line straight to the front where a smiling girl in a flowery apron stands at an electronic podium, taking down the names of the next party in line.

“Is Liam here?”

“O-oh! Uhm, I think so!” the girl blinks, surprised as she looks down at her reservation list, “May I ask who’s asking?”

“Zayne.”

The girl nods as she slips into the restaurant. Beside him, you look up, confused.

“Do you know someone here?”

Zayne nods but doesn’t explain any further as the smiling girl comes back and motions for you both to follow her.

“Right this way Dr. Zayne! Enjoy your meal!”

Zayne gives your hand a small tug as you stumble after him, the confusion on your face blossoming into something like surprise as the pair of you duck into the bustling restaurant to be greeted by an enthusiastic young man, around Zayne’s age, his sleeves rolled up, a bandana tied around his forehead.

“Zayne! You should’ve told me you were coming!”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Zayne supplies, shaking Liam’s hand firmly, pulling you into his side even as Liam’s eyes slide onto you.

“Oh… is this the girl you were always talking about back in —”

“I think we’ll take a booth in the back, thanks,” Zayne cuts him off with a loud cough, already making for the back of the restaurant. Liam laughs good-naturedly, leading you both to a booth tucked in the very corner, away from most of the noise and bustle.

You inch into the booth, casting Zayne a curious look.

“Is that the owner? How do you know him?”

Zayne doesn’t look up as he glances over the menu before pushing it towards you.

“We went to medical school together. Pick anything you want, it’s all very good.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “And he decided to become a chef instead?”

Zayne’s lips twitch, “Is that so unbelievable?”

You shrug, looking down at the menu at last, pursing your lips, “No… it’s just… did he drop out of med school then?”

Zayne shakes his head, “No, he was one of the best in our year.”

“Oh. Then…?”

Zayne taps the menu, “I thought you were hungry.”

You blush, looking down, “I am!”

It’s not till the middle of the meal that Zayne speaks again —

“He said it didn’t make him happy.”

You look up, your cheeks bulging with food. Zayne watches you swallow with a concerted effort, reaching out to wipe at your lips with an indulgent smile even as you swat at his hand.

“Liam? About… being a doctor?”

“Yes. And… in a way, I understood him. He said that the kitchen’s always felt more like home.”

You purse your lips, looking at your half-eaten stuffed pancake.

“Then… does the hospital feel like home? To you?”

Zayne chuckles, leaning forward to add some more veggies to your bowl with his chopsticks.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then…” you trail off, waiting for his answer. There’s a familiar color seeping into your cheeks as Zayne looks you over before his eyes flicker down to your bowl.

“Eat. Or else the veggies will go cold.”

Zayne’s Apartment - Friday, 7:01PM

“I’m so full!” you slump down onto his couch with a long sigh, patting your stomach.

“You were the one who wanted seconds of dessert,” Zayne says, hanging up his coat and turning to join you on the couch. You make a small noise as he lifts your legs and lays them across his lap, his thumbs absently digging into the backs of your calves.

“Ow…” you make to jerk your leg away as he hits a knot but he only grips your ankle and pulls it back with a soft tut.

“Hold still.”

You bury your face in one of the couch cushions as he continues to silently knead at your calf muscles.

“There, better?” his voice is soft now, tugging on the frayed ends of your subconscious as you turn your head to blink at him, a bit dazed.

“Yeah… lots better. Thanks.”

You make to get up but he loops an arm around your back and lifts you easily from the couch, bridal style.

“Zayne?”

“You’re staying the night, right?” he asks, even as he makes for the bedroom.

“I — I am?”

He glances down at your face as he sets you down on his bed.

“I can still drive you home if you want —” He makes to pull away.

“No! I — I can stay. I mean — I want to stay.” You reach up to tug at his shirt, fingers crumpling the material as he stills. You can feel your cheeks blazing as his gaze flickers over your face before settling on your lips.

“Alright then.”

There’s a breath’s pause before you give his shirt another tentative tug and he tips forward with the motion, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

A soft groan bubbles out of you as Zayne presses you back and back and back, until he’s caged over you, trailing hot lips down the line of your neck, skimming his teeth along your collarbones.

“Mm — Z-Zayne…?”

He pulls back, his eyes a bit unfocused as he looks you over — you can feel the weight of his gaze as it flutters over the planes and ridges of your face, from the arch of your brows to the line of your nose. You can’t help blushing beneath this intense scrutiny, and you tug once more at his shirt, your fingers somehow having inched up to his collar, one of your fingers hooked into the top loop of his buttons.

He reaches up to cover your hand with his, fingers easily curling around your smaller hand.

“What is it?”

You lick your lips, stomach twisting, the base rumble of his voice sending shivers shaking through your body.

“Nothing just… I don’t remember you drinking at dinner so…”

He leans down to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand before dropping it back to his shirt collar.

“No, but… alcohol’s not the only thing that might cause someone to lose hold of their senses…”

You watch as his eyes darken at your intake of breath, the way his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Then…” you swallow, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his lips trail back up your neck to your jaw.

“Are you going to make me say it?”

You let out a tiny whimper as he presses a leg up between yours, his breath now hot against the lobe of your ear.

“Say… what?”

Zayne pulls back just far enough to cock an eyebrow at you. And like this, you’ve never seen anything so alluring — the sight of him with his shirt tugged open, his eyes blown dark with desire, his hair slightly mussed from your eager fingers, his lips kissed pink, his cheeks warm with color.

“Hn. Is this my punishment then?”

“For what?”

“For being late to meet you.”

You fight back a grin, “Well… you did say I could be mean to you in person.”

Zayne lets out a sigh, “Alright then.”

You walk your fingers up his chest before pushing him back till you’re both sitting up again. He waits patiently for you to push him down and straddle his hips, slowly tugging open the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie till it hangs undone around his neck. You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chest and revel in the way he hisses.

His fingers reach up for your hips and you catch them with a quick shake of your head.

“No touching… not till I say.”

Zayne stares at you for a second before relaxing and letting his hands fall back onto the sheets.

And it’s not until you lean down to kiss at his exposed abdomen that he groans, head tipping back. Then, a second later, you find yourself pinned beneath him, breathless, Zayne towering over you with parted lips, the moon casting stark shadows along the lines of his face.

“I said you could be mean… I didn’t say I wouldn’t retaliate.”

After, when the pair of you are curled into each other like pieces of jigsaw puzzle that’s finally found its missing parts, his breath warm along the nape of your neck, Zayne finds himself smiling.

“It’s always been you…” he murmurs, though he’s nearly certain you’re already asleep, your breathing sweet and level, your body pliant and perfect against his.

He laces his hands between yours and drops a soft kiss onto the skin of your bare shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter what I do… or where I do it… because my home has always been… you.”

[carmenized-onions]

Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.  

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning.  Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

 “How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Face it dear, you need someone like me.

Synopsis: You live a happy life with your husband, Ralph, who never notices you running off in the middle of the night to a certain radio host…

Warnings: Cheating, NSFW under the cut! Alastor being Alastor! Oh and Human Alastor because he will always be my fav <33

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event )

You lived a quiet life. Your husband Ralph was more than enough. He worked in construction and was busy all morning and into the late hours of the night, getting home at eight p.m sharp every evening. The two of you had a lovely marriage, some would say picture perfect even. A small house, living in the city. What more could you ask for?

Well maybe some alone time. Or financial security. But hey you can’t have it all right?

You hadn’t intended on cheating on your husband. Hell you didnt even want to get involved with Alastor, he was just a colleague. But, he had so sweetly convinced you to go dancing with him one night after your husband knocked out on the couch. Sneaking out was easy when he slept like a log and honestly? It was the best night of your life. You felt alive. Like things were okay. You felt so pretty in your dress, with your hair done up. The two of you had even shared a flask on your way back to your home.

But then Alastor turns down the wrong street, and now you’re on his doorstep, the both of you fiddling with the lock, trying not to pull away from each other even though you both need air. But everything felt so good, so right. When he finally opens the door to his home you both stumble in, giggling all the way. He hazardously removes your coat, letting it drop to the floor as he does the same with his. You kick your heels off, while he does the same with his. Garments are tossed as you both make your way up the stairs, sliding into walls and becoming an entangled mess of laughter. His hands are everywhere they shouldn’t be, and yours remain wrapped around his shoulders, manicured nails raking through his hair as the kisses descend from your lips down the side of your neck, where he bites down ever so slightly. He kicks the door to his bedroom open wider, the two of you walking in as he sits you on the bed, pulling back to see your face. Lips are swollen, and the red lipstick you had worn for him was smudged off the side of your lip. The marks down the side of your neck were beginning to form despite only being made moments ago, but he’s a passionate lover who loves to leave his mark on things.

No, you hadn’t intended on cheating on your husband. But he was so gentle with you, so warm and loving, his touch lit you ablaze like if you were a forest fire. Feeling something felt amazing, and he felt all the better.

No, you didn’t want to cheat on your husband. You didn’t plan on taking your lunch breaks just to walk around the park with Alastor. That wasn’t done intentionally, it just happened. The same way everything else did.

You didnt want to cheat on your husband, but when he knocks three times on your door nine thirty you know it’s Alastor. You don’t even think twice before leaving to spend the night with your favorite man. A man who isn’t your husband.

You dont like cheating on your husband. No, not when you hear him talk about how much he wants to start a family with you. How painfully you have to smile back at him, knowing you aren’t even interested in sleeping in the same bed as him anymore. What a cellophane Alastor called him.

“That man is undeserving of you dear. When are you going to be honest with yourself hm?”

He’d say, at the worst damn time too. Slotted perfectly between your legs, asking you these things when your mind is nothing but mush because of him. But isn’t that the best part? Because it’s him you’re doing all this for. It’s Alastor you choose to spend your nights with, and that makes him want you so much more. So you could imagine his pain when he knocked three times and you didn’t answer. No, not when he heard those sweet sounds of yours from the other side of the door. How dare you.

Yes, Ralph was your husband. But Alastor was so much better than him, it was almost hard to fake it. “I love you so much Y/n.” Your husband said with a sigh, sleep finally taking over his body. You just nod, feeling guilty. No, you don’t like cheating on your husband. But how are you supposed to feel when your husband doesn’t feel like your husband anymore? When he feels like a man you sleep with so he doesn’t become angry with you? You gather yourself together quickly, not even recognizing the time, and shut your bedroom door quietly. You make your way to the kitchen in a robe, and almost jump out of your skin when you see Alastor standing next to the counter with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Alastor…- Alastor I-“ You were at a loss for words. How did he even get in?

“Tell me, my dear. Why won’t you leave him?”

Alastor asks, setting his hot cup down on the counter. His smile doesn’t change, but it’s thin. You know he’s upset with you. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to, break the news to him.” You say, looking down. Alastor scoffs, pushing off the counter to walk towards you.

“Do you love him?”

Alastor asks, stopping a few feet away from you. “I do…but-“

“No. Do you love him?”

Alastor asks again. He knows the answer. You both do. “No. No I don’t.” You whisper to yourself, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor smiles wider now.

“Then why do you let him use you? You know he isn’t half as good with you as I am.”

He says, getting close enough to take your hands in his. Tears fall from your face, and Alastor coo’s as he wipes your tears.

“I don’t want to hurt him.” You say, sighing. Alastor just smiles.

“Why don’t,”

He says, moving to tilt your face to look at him. He smiles as you stare at him teary eyed, and though usually he’d love it, right now he wants that sad look gone.

“You get your things, and why don’t we leave?”

Alastor asks. You stare at him wide eyed. “Leave? But, my home-“ Alastor tut’s at you, pulling away from you to walk back to his place by the counter. You stand there, shocked.

“Do you really need to stay?”

Alastor asks with a laugh.

“Darling, you’ve already hurt him enough.”

He says, hoping that will snap you out of it. When he see’s you still, stuck there, he pinches the bridge of his nose, glasses moving up.

“He can’t give you what I can.”

He says, and you shake your head.

“Alastor he’s been a good man to me. I can’t just-“

“Can’t what? Sleep with another man and then try to act like you’re perfect? Dear you and I both know we are far from perfect.”

Alastor says, and it hurts because you know he’s right. You’ve already hurt your husband, so why are you still sticking around as if you care?

“He’s been there for me through so much. He needs me.”

You say in a low voice. You didn’t think this would hurt you this much.

“What about what you need?”

Alastor asks, studying your features closely. He walks back to you again, this time pulling you closer to meet him halfway. This time you’re forced to look at him. He gets closer to your face, and you hate the way you feel butterflies when his thumb traces your bottom lip.

“Face it dear, you need someone like me.”

[mendesblurb]

We were staying in Paris

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning ⚠️: mostly fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Word count:~500

A/N: The story idea and concept are classic and predictable; your girl just couldn’t help but write something inspired by this picture. Also, it’s three weeks late; better late than never? And this is my first story in 2024? 🙈 P.S. Should I write a longer and maybe some more steamy story with this picture? 🤪

——//

In the heart of Paris, in a hotel room with a balcony overlooking the city that served as the backdrop for a love story as it was unfolding in the early hours of dawn. You lay nestled in the warmth of the bed beside your boyfriend as your fingers intertwined with his. As the first tendrils of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Shawn stirred awake, his eyes blinking open to the soft glow of morning. 

He savoured the moment's stillness a little while before gently extricating himself from the embrace, slipping out of bed, and heading to the bathroom. The cool floor beneath his bare feet offers a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the bed. He was going to return to bed, but instead, he made his way to the balcony, drawn by the promise of a tranquil morning amidst the bustling city below.

As he leaned against the railing, taking in the breathtaking view before him, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the Parisian skyline bathed in the soft hues of dawn. The Eiffel Tower stood tall and majestic in the distance, a precious sight. Lost in thought, he reached for a cigarette, the flame casting a flickering glow on his face as he took a contemplative drag.

Unbeknownst to him, you had stirred awake in his absence, your gaze lingering on the spot where he had once laid.

There you were, quietly making your way to the balcony, and you found him lost in reverie with the smoke curling around him like a halo in the morning light. With a soft throat clearing, you announced your presence, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.

"Good morning, stranger," You greeted, voice laced with amusement as you wrapped your arms around him from behind.

A little startled, he turned to find you standing before him, a radiant smile lighting up her features as he leaned in for a kiss.

"Good morning, ma chÃrie," He greeted back before discarding his cigarette and nestling closer. It didn’t take long for his eyes to linger around you, and eventually falling upon the shirt you were wearing, a mischievous twinkle lighting up his gaze, “I believe that’s my shirt.” 

"Oh yeah, I hope you don't mind," You began, fingers tracing the fabric of the shirt, "I may have borrowed this from you,” You continued slyly as your lips curled into a grin as he took in the sight of you wearing his shirt, the fabric draping over your frame in a way that seemed almost too perfect.

"Shirt stealer," he remarked, his voice tinged with sincerity as he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Moments later, as the sun continued its ascent, casting a golden glow over the city, you both remained on the balcony, lost in each other's embrace and the beauty of the Parisian sunrise. 

"By the way, I'm never returning this shirt,” You added, breaking the silence with a mischievous grin. 

In response, Shawn just chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection, “Thank you for letting me know," he replied, pulling  you closer than before, “But It looks better on you anyway."

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️

Taglist (open) : @monikamendes @holland-styles @bvttercupbby @lonelyreputation @badreputationlove @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @benito-mi-vida @swiftmendeshoran @yournameoneverypage @shawn-is-bruh @mendesbhraanth @perfectlywrongformendes @imaginashawnn @smendes-forever @nervousmendes @whenyoureadyholland @shawn-youth @myboyshawn @camilalewiss @camilalewisss @theregoesmyherojd @nanijaac1 @shawnieeboyy @silverswallow @inlovewithmendes-blog @mendeslola-blog @mendesx123 @23kofmendes @jellyloml @chipofmendes @poohofmendes @wutheringmendes @shawnmendesbuddy @chocochipcookie305 @shiningshawns

Story Code:05042409

[xxblairexxss]

Revenge

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst

I needed something that would break my heart and shred it to pieces so I came up with this.

“Charles?”

“Yes, chérie.” He had fallen asleep face down on the couch as soon as he came home. The meeting with the team was supposed to take 2-3 hours but it ended up taking half a day so he had to rush home because he had another interview next morning. You felt so bad waking him up but your period had came early and you ran out of heating pad and tampons.

“Can you head to the store—“

“Can’t it wait?” You could clearly see he was annoyed and your words became a murmur. “I just came back not even for 30 minutes.”

“I know, but…”

“I’ll get whatever you need tomorrow, chérie. Let me sleep. Please.”

So you let him be.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your period cramp was getting worse and you desperately needed a heating pad, a painkiller, and anything that would help to soothe the pain. Your head was throbbing, you felt nauseous, laying down felt wrong, standing up made it worse. You tried to wake up your boyfriend but again, before you could say anything, he had left the room and locked himself in the guest room so you won’t be able to disturb his sleep. And you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You changed into an oversized sweatshirts and short yoga pants then walked out of the apartment. You couldn’t drive and it was better to have to walk for 25 minutes than to crash into someone else’s car.

You had always loved an evening stroll around the city but you would always feel anxious if your boyfriend wasn’t with you. Which was why you couldn’t go by yourself in the first place.

The walk was a pleasant one. Much to your surprise. You saw a group of people who had just finished their night shifts, a number of tourists taking pictures, and just full of humans being humans. You had reached the store in no time and got yourself some pain-relievers and a new heating pad.

“Thank you! You are Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” The old man asked as he put the items into a plastic bag.

“Ah, yes.” You were surprised as you didn’t really get this kind of question a lot.

“I knew it. I have seen you guys together a few times. Such a beautiful couple.” He handed you the plastic bag.

“Ah, thank you. I’ll get going first. Have a pleasant night, sir.” You took the items from his hand and started making your way back, trailing the steps you took all the way home.

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“Move away!”

Things would have ended in a perfect way if it wasn’t for a random man who came from the upper side of the road. He didn’t get to hit on the break before crashing on you. You saw him coming your way but before you could moved away, he and his bike had already fallen on top of you. The pedal from the bicycle was still gliding as it crashed on you, causing the sharp bit to cut the skin on your knee. The hit sent you to fall on your back and you were trying to stop the fall but the crash was too hard that you could feel a huge pressure on your wrist as it landed on the pavement. The bicycle handle then hit on your forehead as it fell so now you had a bruise on your forehead and a cut on the side of your lips from the sudden punch from the man as he tried to stop himself from falling on his face.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m really sorry, miss.” The guy started scrambling to stand up and offered a hand to pull you up to a stance.

“Ow..” You immediately retracted your right hand when you felt the jolt of pain as he pulled on it.

“Oh, no I think you might have sprained your wrist. Give me your other hand. I’m so sorry my brake wasn’t working I really thought I could turn away before crashing on you.” He pulled you on your left hand which made you stand on both of your feet now. “You are bleeding. There’s a clinic nearby, I’ll take you there.”

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Charles were woken up when his throat was dry and he was parched. It was when he turned his body to the side was when he recalled that he had left you because you woke him up a while ago. Guilt started to fill up his heart as he stood up and left the guest room. He was expecting to see you on the bed but he was greeted with an empty one.

“Shit…” He whispered and ran to get his phone to call you. Much to his dismay, the call went straight to your voicemail. “Fuck! Where are you, Y/N.”

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“Oh, my. What happened to you, pretty girl.” The old man from the store earlier was surprised when you walked back into the store now looking like you were beaten up for the past 20 minutes.

“I’m so sorry for bugging you, sir. Can I borrow your phone? I need to call my boyfriend.” You had walked back into the store with the man who crashed into you, Lucas was the name as he went to buy a drinking water for you and waited outside as you made your call.

“Hello?” You heard your boyfriend’s voice through the phone. It was a relief he would picked up a call from a random number.

“Charles..” You tried to speak without crying but failed as your eyes started tearing up even before you could explain to him.

“Y/N? Where are you?” You could hear him getting restless.

“I am at the store down the street. Can you come and get me?”

“Stay. I’ll be there in 5.”

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Charles was staggered when he saw you full of cuts and bruises. Your sweatshirts had some bloodstain on it and you were still sobbing.

When he took you home, he didn’t say anything but you knew he was mad because he kept on biting the inside of his cheeks and he only did that when he was furious.

“What was that for, Y/N?” He slammed the door as you walked in.

“I was just trying to…” You sniffed softly and wiped your wet cheeks with your sleeves, unable to look at him in the eyes.

“You were trying to what? Playing games with me? Or is this some kind of revenge because I didn’t want to go to the store to get your what? Chocolate? You couldn’t even fucking wait until tomorrow?” You took a step back when he kept on raising his voice, your hand that was holding the plastic bag was shaking within every sob.

“I’m sorry…” You sniffled again, eyes still looking on the floor.

“Or was it your plan though? To embarrass me like that in front of everyone? To show everyone how bad of a boyfriend I am?” He stepped closer and for the first time, you were scared of him.

“What happened to your phone?”

“It ran out of battery..” You mumbled.

“Great. Now you are telling me it was a coincidence? That you just fucking left the house with a dead phone? It wasn’t because you tried to make it harder for me to find you? He threw his car key away to which you flinched.

“I can’t believe you would go that far just because you couldn’t get what you want. You are fucking spoil.” Charles was dazed by his own words. He didn’t know what had gotten into him but he was so tired and he expected you to understand him instead of pulling a show at 3AM. But he didn’t thought he would blow up to this extend. He regretted saying every words he had thrown to you but when he thought back about those looks he got from the strangers when he went to pick you up, he was demented with anger again thinking that you were secretly smiling at how successful your plan were to get back at him.

You looked up to him in shock at his words, your tears are now flowing non stop you didn’t even bother to wipe them off. “I…” Charles cut you off before you could say anything.

“Just go and change your clothes, Y/N. We are done here. Go!” He yelled out and you scurried to the bathroom to wash your face, leaving the plastic bag on the dining table.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you saw Charles on the bed. He had his arm covering his eyes. He wasn’t asleep yet because you could still see how tense he was so you tried to take your change of clothes in silent before quickly head out of the room.

Charles thought you would have climbed on the side of the bed to sleep. But he didn’t think you would leave the room. First thing that came to his mind was the guest room. He thought you were so upset with him that you chose to sleep in the guest room. He couldn‘t understand why you were upset now. Obviously he was the one who should be mad. He wasn’t the one who went to that extend to play revenge. You started it first.

But he didn’t hear the door close. You could never sleep with the door open. Charles only heard the soft sound of a coffee mug hitting the other glasses. It was so soft and slow, as if you were trying to hide the sound from him.

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It was hard to do things with one hand. The doctor had to wrap your wrist with a bandage because the sprain was really bad. You couldn’t even use your right hand. Even taking yourself a glass of water was a difficult task but you needed to take the pain-reliever pill or you won’t be able to sleep. Your head was still hurting. Every part of your body was in pain but it wasn‘t as much as the pain of your heart. You were still crying, sobbing, but you tried to hide every sniffle in case Charles would yell at you again.

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Charles saw the way you were struggling to take out the pill, some sort of medicine with one hand and he could feel his heart clenching in pain. Why would you go this far just because he couldn’t go to the store. Why would you even hurt yourself just to make him feel bad. He was upset that you could do this to yourself just to wreak vengeance on him. He watched you struggled to drink from the mug and still chose to wash it off as you cleaned the table and even put his car key away, the key that he thrown away in anger earlier. He saw you struggled to walk, trying not to put much weight on the leg with the cut and hurried back to the room before you could see him.

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Charles walked back out when he heard you finally closed the door to the guest room and went back to the kitchen to check on the medicine that he saw you took earlier. Soon as he saw what was inside the plastic bag, he felt like there was a tons of rock being thrown on him at one time. It was a pain-reliever for a period cramp and an opened box of a heating pad. You didn’t go to the store just to play revenge on him, it wasn’t for a game. You went to get these things. He knew you always had a bad cramp and a migraine on your period but it wasn’t supposed to come until another 2 weeks. He had it saved in his calendar every month. You had asked him to go to the store earlier to get you these things because you couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t for chocolate. He couldn’t believe what just happened. He had just yelled at his girlfriend who was in pain. He didn’t give you any space to explain anything. Now he knew why you weren’t saying anything else and just accepted everything that he said. You just wanted him to stop yelling so you could sleep the pain away. He would prefer you to shout at him back, curse at him, hit him, punch him, whatever it was. Perhaps that way it wouldn’t hurt him this much when he knew the truth.

He was a fucking asshole.

He had messed things up very bad and there was no way he could fix this up but he needed to. He couldn’t lose you.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 17 - Apartment

@wolfstarmicrofic May 17, word count 813

Previous part First part

“So, er, are you feeling better today? You look better than you did yesterday. Not that you looked horrible or anything! Oh, this is hard,” Remus couldn’t keep up with how fast Sirius’s expression changed. He smiled at the flustered boy, patting the edge of his bed that Poppy had vacated. 

“Take a breath and let's start again,” he suggested. Sirius obeyed, and soon they were chatting easily about things they liked and things they didn’t like while eating a ridiculous amount of chocolates. 

About an hour into Sirius’s visit, Poppy quickly popped her head round the door and hissed. 

“Doctor all hair is on his rounds. If you don’t want to be the talk of the hospital, I suggest you hide.” She was gone as fast as she’d appeared, and Sirius looked around the room in horror as he tried to find somewhere to hide. 

“That man was an utter nightmare yesterday. He wouldn’t stop talking about what a good doctor he was and all these exciting cases he’s been on. He’ll tell everyone I was here.”

“Quick, the bathroom!” Remus pointed at the door and Sirius ran to it, closing it to just as Doctor could you use any more hair product? Walked in. 

“And good morning, Mr Lupin. I see you’re looking far better this morning. Good, good.” He picked up Remus’s chart. “Excellent, you had the painkiller yesterday. You are a naughty boy for not asking for it earlier, tut tut,” He flashed Remus his too white teeth at him and returned the chart to the end of his bed. Remus wished he’d bugger off and stop bugging him. “Well, well, do we have a secret admirer? Are you sure these weren’t meant for me?” Doctor should have gone into plastics, laughed his horrid laugh, and checked the card. Remus snatched it out of his hand before he could read the number on it. 

“Not a secret, it’s from my school. They send me stuff sometimes when I miss a lot of school. I also got a stack of work to do with it,” he pointed at his bag on the chair in the corner, with the stack of textbooks and papers spilling out. He’d brought it with him, but Doctor definitely has hair implants, wouldn’t have noticed it unless it had a picture of his face on it. 

“Well, isn’t that nice of them?” he turned to leave before looking back over his shoulder. “Remember, Mr Lupin, don’t be afraid to call me whenever you need me. I am at your beck and call,” he waved cheerily, and was gone. Remus fake retched at him. 

“Gods, he’s awful,” Sirius reappeared, grimacing at the open door. He carefully shut it and went to sit back with Remus. 

“I’m just glad he didn’t start bragging about his new apartment again. It’s a one-bed flat in the shit part of town. You’d think he had the best view in the city. I looked it up. He literally looks out on a Chinese takeaway and a laundrette.” 

“He’s all hair and no substance,” Sirius joked. They both burst into laughter. 

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Remus sighed, sinking back into his pillows. 

“Do you know when you can go?” Sirius asked him. Remus shook his head. 

“Poppy will keep me in the loop, but it’s all up to Doctor glow in the dark teeth to sign me off. Could be a couple of days, could be a week,” Remus shrugged. He was feeling good today, but he’d relapsed before and could be in for a bad day again tomorrow.

“Well, I’ll come and visit you while you’re here and, if you want to, maybe we could go out for something to eat, maybe see some of the sights before you leave. That’s if you want to, you don’t have to.” Sirius was flustering himself again. Remus took pity on him, he really was enjoying his company. 

“That sounds amazing. I don’t know how much walking I’ll be able to do, but I’m sure Poppy could find me a wheelchair if you don’t mind pushing,” Sirius’s face lit up like Remus had just offered him the world. 

“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sirius leant over, and Remus received his first kiss. Sirius’s lips were incredibly soft, and the light pressure sent butterflies swooping in his stomach. 

He was still smiling stupidly when Poppy came in to check on him after Sirius had gone. 

“Oh, you are in so much trouble,” she laughed, patting him on the head and nicking another chocolate. But Remus couldn’t find it in him to care; he’d just had his first kiss, and it had been given to him by the most amazing person he’d ever met. He couldn’t wait to get out of this hospital and go on his first date as well. 

Next part

[ilovecatfr]

SCENARIOS FOR YOU

~Going to claw machines store together

~Going to hello kitty cafes

~Going to cafes with animals

~Going to the beach or a river together and finding two rocks which make a perfect heart

~Making jewellery together

~Going to park and befriending random squirrels or birds together

~Going to see a Jaws movies during the night, in the ocean

~Going to drive in movies

~Going to art gallery and find paintings that reminds of them or looks like you/them

~You both not being able to fall asleep so you guys sneak in kitchen together to make cookies or something

~Going to haunted houses together too see who gets scared first & the loser has to buy the other one ice cream

~Going to the a masked ball together with randomly selected partners and not realising you are each others partners till the end of the night

~Playing fights till y'all end up on the floor and realised you guys are very close to each other

~First time trying a sport together like rock climbing or skiing

~Randomly getting lost and accidentally finding a place that going to be yours guys spot

~Randomly "rent" a pet together and take care of it for a day

~Making slime together

~Getting caught in storm together and running towards a nearest bridge or building and kissing while you are both drenched in rain

~Going to a beach party and getting drunk so much that you both fall asleep in a heart shaped bed float and waking up together at sun rise

~Hanging out with your friends on top of a building (maybe in the club or party) waiting for fireworks and your friends on purpose leaving you alone with your s/o because they know you two have something going on, and then seeing the fireworks together

~Going to a movie theater pretty late and being the only ones, when you come out there's a playground (the ones with cool slides and stuff) outside and playing around and making a core memorie

~Being left to babysit a toddler together (could be very fun or go very wrong)

~Going on boat or helicopter rides across big citys

~Waking up to a snow morning and hurrying outside, making it your guys challenge for the day to make the biggest snow men possible

~Going to a trip in the same hotel together and randomly going to lobby late in night because you can't sleep, only to see them there and you guys both order hot chocolate and have fun

~Being cold and saying that to your friends and random person offers your their jacket just for your s/o to come behind you and wrap you in their jacket

~Your family showing them your baby pictures and making you embarrassed, but your s/o only looks at you with adoration

~During summer your s/o makes it their goal to take pictures of you and makes a album by the end of the summer. Oh and they aslo wrote letters or events that happened that day behind every picture.

~Being around a campfire and sitting down and just look to the side for a second only to see your s/o staring lovingly at you

~Them surprising you with a tattoo that somehow relates to you (favourite flowers, animal...)

~Being on ferris wheel together and getting stuck on the top for a couple minutes

~Them being completely wasted, so much their friends had to drop them off at your place because they couldn't stop talking about you

~Playing hide and seek with you friends and your s/o pulling you with them in their hiding space

~Going to play with laser guns and theres different teams and you s/o making sure you are in theirs/protecting you the every round

~Them baying silly pijamas for your guys sleep over because they wanted to match with you

~Them insisting to make a short movie or video blogs of your guys trips together and filming everything so they can watch it when you both get old or for your future children

~Midnight drives while blasting music and getting food

~Going to race cars together to drive and race (obviously)

~Going together to shop for clothes for you pet in baby section and making outfits

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