#relationship before the night of the game

[mattrempeswife]

EVEN WHEN YOU THINK I’M SLEEPING

requested: yes | req: whispering gentle reassurances to lukey after he has a bad day while you think he’s sleeping but he’s awake and all he can think of is how incredibly lucky he is, you don’t even realise he’s awake till a tear slips out the corner of his eye.

pair: luke hughes x f!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, slice of life, established relationship.

warnings: emotional vulnerability, one curse word, reader comfort and caretaking, soft crying, mention of sports-related stress.

summary: after a long, rough day on the ice and the weight of expectations heavy on his shoulders, luke comes home feeling like he’s failing his team, his family, and himself. but in the quiet of the night, your soft whispers and gentle reassurances wrap around him like the warmest hug, even when you think he’s asleep.

The door clicks shut with that defeated sound, you pause the show you weren’t really watching, setting the remote down. The apartment is dim except for the soft kitchen light you left on for him. Always. Just in case he needed the feeling of home when he walked through the door.

Luke doesn’t say anything. Just drops his bag by the front door and shrugs out of his jacket like it weighs twice what it should.

No greetings.

No kiss hello. That’s when you know it’s bad.

You let him go. He walks straight to the bedroom and disappears behind the door.

You sit still for a minute, then slowly rise from the couch. You give him time, Luke needs that sometimes. Space to be quiet. He’s not one to explode or rant. He just folds inward, like a paper crane tucked too tightly.

After a few minutes, you follow him.

When you enter the bedroom, he’s lying on his side, hoodie still on, the blankets only half-heartedly pulled up over him. One arm is bent under his pillow, the other resting across his chest, hand curled like it forgot what it was reaching for.

You climb into bed gently, careful not to shift the mattress too much. Facing him, you tuck your arm under the pillow and let your fingers brush the back of his hand.

He doesn’t flinch. But he doesn’t move either.

You whisper into the space between you.

“Rough day?”

No answer. You don’t really expect one.

You scoot a little closer, closing the gap until your knees are touching. Still, nothing. His breathing is slow, even. But it’s not sleep. You know the difference.

You let the silence stretch a little longer before you start again, softer this time.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

His chest rises, then falls. Controlled.

You keep going, voice barely above a breath.

“I know it probably felt like everything was on you tonight. And maybe it didn’t go how you wanted. But that doesn’t mean you’re not still everything good.”

You shift your hand up to his forearm, your thumb tracing soft patterns over the fabric of his hoodie.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Luke. The way your teammates see you. Your family. You’re not just this game, or this moment, or the mistakes you think you made.”

Still no movement.

But the air around him has changed, more fragile, like glass held at the wrong angle.

You lean closer, whispering into the space behind his ear.

“You’re the same guy who cuts strawberries into heart shapes for my breakfast. Who sends me memes in the middle of practice just to make me laugh. The one who puts his hand on my lower back everytime we cross the street, like you’re afraid the world might take me away from you if you don’t.”

You smile to yourself, lips brushing his temple as you continue.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel like home isn’t a place, it’s you. Just you.”

You feel a tremble. The smallest shudder in his body.

And then, quietly, a soft sniff. And the tear that slips down the side of his face, pooling against the edge of the pillow.

You freeze. Your fingers tighten on his arm.

“Luke?”

A beat. Then he shifts slowly turning toward you, the tear shining like silver under the dim light.

“I wasn’t asleep,” he says, voice raw.

You lift your hand to wipe the tear away, thumb gentle.

“I know.”

His eyes flicker over your face, taking you in like he hasn’t seen you in days. Like he’s remembering something essential.

“I tried so hard today,” he whispers.

“And it just wasn’t enough.”

Your heart cracks. You slide your hand to his cheek, cradling him.

“You were enough the second you walked through that door.”

His throat bobs as he swallows.

“You make it too easy to fall apart.”

You laugh softly, tucking your forehead against his.

“Maybe falling apart isn’t the problem. Maybe the trick is finding someone who’ll help you gather the pieces.”

He exhales shakily, eyes closing for a second as your hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair.

“Don’t ever leave me,”

He says suddenly, like it spills out before he can catch it.

You freeze, then whisper fiercely,

“Never. I’m not going anywhere, Luke.”

“I think I’d lose my mind if I didn’t have you to come home to.”

“Good,”

You tease softly, brushing your nose against his.

“Then it’s mutual.”

He finally laughs, just barely a broken little sound that still feels like a sunrise. Then, slowly, he presses his lips to yours.

It’s not urgent. Not hungry.

It’s slow and soft and sure. A kiss that says thank you. A kiss that says I’m here. A kiss that says I hear every word you whisper when you think I’m sleeping.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lucky,” he murmurs.

You smile, brushing a kiss to his cheek.

“Then I’ll have to remind you more often.”

Luke moves again, pulling you into his chest this time. You settle there, cheek pressed to his sternum, listening to the thud of his heart as it starts to calm.

His voice rumbles above you.

“You’d make a really great captain.”

You blink up at him.

“What?”

“Just… you know what to say. And when to say it. You lead with your heart.”

Your lips part in surprise.

“That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugs, looking sheepish now.

“It’s true. I think you’d be the kind of captain that makes everyone feel like they belong.”

You blink back the emotion suddenly blooming in your chest.

“Well, if I’m the captain… you’re my favorite line mate.”

He grins. The first real smile you’ve seen from him all day.

You burrow into him, wrapping your arms around his waist, and he holds you like he’s memorizing the feel of your entire body in his arms. Like the ache in his chest has finally, finally started to ease.

After a while, just as you’re about to drift off, he speaks again.

“I was serious, you know. About marrying you.”

You hum sleepily.

“I know.”

“Not just someday. Soon.”

You peek up at him, heart thudding.

“You’re not allowed to propose while we’re both half-asleep.”

He chuckles, then presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Fine. But just know… I’m already planning it.”

And when he finally falls asleep this time with his breathing even, his body relaxed, and his hand tightly gripping yours, you stay awake just a little longer.

Watching him. Listening to the soft exhale from his lips. Pressing tiny kisses to his knuckles.

Because he may think he’s the lucky one.

But the truth is… you’re both just exactly where you’re meant to be.

[kjhbsies]

Rumor Has It

navigation | main masterlist | rules

James Potter x Slytherin!reader

synopsis: James Potter is in a secret relationship with Y/N, but things spiral when someone mistakes Regulus Black for Y/N’s boyfriend and spreads the rumor around Hogwarts. How far will he go before he can’t take it anymore?

wordcount: 2, 376

note: 16+ fluff. part II?

He was in Gryffindor— the golden boy, Quidditch captain, and this year's Head Boy. She was a Slytherin— sharp-tongued, keen, and entirely off-limits.

James Potter had a reputation to maintain, and people finding out that you and him were dating would spark nasty rumors, ones that could damage both of your standings. So, one night, hidden in the shadows behind one of the castle's staircases, he proposed that you two keep your relationship a secret.

You immediately agreed. You'd never hear the end of it if someone knew, anyway.

But right now, you were perched on James's lap, your back pressed against the cold walls of an unused classroom. The boy kissed you with hunger, like he hadn't seen you for months.

"Missed you so much, love." He murmured against your lips, hands snaking at the nape of your neck, pulling you impossibly close.

You smiled into the kiss, fingers tangling on his messy curls. "We were just in the same class not an hour ago."

"Details, details," He hummed, fingers creeping dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

Sure, the two of you shared classes. But between the rift of the two houses— Gryffindor and Slytherin— you two were only reduced to stolen glances, shared smirks behind textbooks, fleeting brushes of fingers as you two passed by each other. Moments that meant everything, but looked like nothing, especially under the watchful eyes of his rowdy friends.

The same group that made a habit of declaring an absolute hatred for your house. Who never missed a chance to sneer at Lucius Malfoy or mock Severus Snape. Who would lose their minds if they found out that James Potter, of all people, was sneaking around with a Slytherin girl.

It all happened at last year's Yule Ball after party. Everyone was beet drunk, sneaking in a couple of firewhiskey and muggle beers and alcohols. You found James pissed drunk, staggering through the rose bush before puking out.

You were just trying to get some fresh air, having been suffocated in a room full of intoxicated young adults. You found him slumped against the stone bench, suit disheveled, crown of the night askew.

"Such an unexpected act from a Slytherin like you," James threw a lopsided smirk when you handed him a bottle of water that you just conjured.

"And such an expected act from a Gryffindor like you. So reckless and annoying." You muttered, rolling your eyes at him.

You expected him to leave you alone after that. Act like nothing happened.

But he didn't.

After that night, James couldn't stop seeing you— even when you weren't looking his way. Couldn't help noticing the twist of your mouth when you read, or how you sat in the far corner of the library where the sun always hit the table just right.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. The James Potter. The boy who pined after Lily Evans for six years. So, yes, you were skeptical. You thought it was a prank. A bet. Some stupid Gryffindor game orchestrated by his infamous friends.

But then weeks passed. Months. And he kept showing up. With books. With sweets. With flushed cheeks and sincere eyes. He started learning the little things about you— like how you tie your shoelace twice, or how you hummed when you were stressed.

And eventually, you gave in.

Honestly, your dating life was surprisingly good. Shocking, even. James turned out to be nothing like what you'd expected. He was thoughtful, passionate, and stupidly charming. He made you laugh. Made you feel seen. The problem was... well, it was a secret.

You weren't famous, per se. Sure, many people knew of you— top of your year, Slug Club regular, often praised by professors. But your name didn't echo towards the halls— not in a way that James's did. Which was fine. You liked it that way.

Most people would never expect you to be James Potter's secret lover. And that was fine, too. You were secure in yourself. Let them think what they want.

But the thing that pisses you off the most was when everyone still kept teasing James with Lily. It was relentless, to say the least. You've heard about the comments. Even his friends laughed about it, like it was some unshakeable part of his identity. You knew they meant no harm— that it was all good and fun— but Merlin, it gets exhausting. Especially now that both of them were Head Students. The school seemed obsessed with watching their every move.

Still, James never made you feel less. Never made you feel like you're the second best. And you were extremely grateful for that.

Sirius Black, for all his charms and recklessness, has an absolute talent for unknowingly stirring the pot.

"Do you reckon Y/n has a boyfriend?" He whispered during Flitwick's lecture, nudging James with his elbow.

James's head snapped toward him so fast. "What?"

Sirius smirked, "I mean, I know we said not to involve ourselves with Slytherins, but I could turn a blind eye. For her, I'd even forgive Malfoy."

James blinked. He felt his left eye twitch. His internal monologue was screaming.

Over my dead, hexed, and dismembered body.

"Who are you talking about?" Peter leaned in.

"Y/n Y/l/n." Sirius said without missing a beat, eyes still glued to where you sat a few rows ahead, effortlessly answering Flitwick's question. "Slytherin's babe."

James's hand gripped his quill so hard that it snapped in two. Sirius didn't even notice.

Peter let out a snort. "Oh, you're too late."

Sirius and James both turned to him, twin expressions of horror and confusion.

"Word is, your brother beat you to it."

Silence.

"What?" James whispered, his voice unnaturally high, which earned looks from Remus, who had been listening quietly.

"Yeah. Regulus. Everyone's basically saying they're a thing now." Peter shrugged.

James's jaw dropped.

"What? Since when? How did that happen?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know, mate. Probably because he has the same face as yours but isn't annoying?"

Sirius scoffed. "Rude."

James's ears almost turned into a violent shade of red. Regulus? REGULUS?!

Remus finally cut in, trying to hush them when he caught Flitwick casting a suspicious glare at them. He nudged Peter with his foot under the desk.

But James was already spiraling. He barely heard a word of the lesson after that. He just stared straight ahead, occasionally throwing a glance your way.

After class, he wanted to march straight up to you and ask you about this Regulus nonsense. But he couldn't. Not with Sirius bouncing beside him, talking about dinner plans, and not with Peter listing why Regulus "would totally pull."

And definitely not with Andromeda swinging her arm around your shoulder, chatting your ear off, pulling you toward the dungeons with the ease of someone who doesn't have a secret boyfriend fuming five feet away.

James and you just quietly exchanged glances before parting in different ways.

"So, what do you mean by Y/n and Regulus?" James asked once they were in the Gryffindor common room. He tried to sound disinterested, like he was just trying to gossip. "He's a year younger than her."

"So?" Remus sat across from him. "Age doesn't matter. They're both adults."

"W-well, yeah, but—" James tried to explain something, but failed to do so.

"Reg doesn't even have game." Sirius still looked bothered by the thought of his own brother having a romantic interest.

Peter leaned back in the chair. "Maybe he doesn't. But he has the face. Mysterious, brooding, those dark, haunted eyes. He looks like a bloody romance lead in a gothic novel, and Y/n's the artsy type. They probably sit in the library and bond over tragedies."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie... they do look good together," Remus added.

James looked at him and frowned. "What do you mean they look good together?"

Remus shrugged, "She looks like the kind of girl who'd fall for someone like him— quiet, witty, and handsome."

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. YOU'RE ALL WRONG. BECAUSE I'M DATING HER, YOU TWATS. James sat there, stewing in silence while his friends continued chatting. He barely said a word that night. Sirius assumed he was just sleepy, and Peter thought it was because of his Head Boy duties. But Remus?

Oh, Remus knew.

Later, when only the two of them were left behind, Remus caught up to James just before he went inside his separate Head Boy dorm.

"Hey," He called. "You dating someone?"

James froze.

"W-what?" He squeaked, trying to laugh it off,

Remus smiled, eyes too knowing. "Just asking. Valentine's day is coming up, after all. Lily might be expecting flowers from you. You know her type."

He winked and turned ahead towards the boys' dormitory, leaving James standing alone.

The next evening, James pulled you from the Great Hall after dinner and dragged you into his dorm, leaving no room for protest. His arm was slung over your shoulder like a possessive man, and now, you were on his bed— more accurately, you were pinned under him while he refused to let you go.

You'd barely managed to shuffle into his oversized Gryffindor Quidditch hoodie before he was already throwing himself at you like a starved dog.

He was quiet, oddly so, his arms wrapped around your waist firmly, his face buried into the crook of your neck. Ocassionally, you can hear him sniff you. He was literally inhaling your existence.

"...James?"

"Hmm..?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, fingers weaving through his dark curls— a trick you knew that would either soothe him or get him to talk. Hopefully both.

"You okay, love?" You asked, concern creeping into your voice. "You've been extra clingy tonight. More than usual. You've been practically attached to my hip like a koala."

He let out a muffled whimper against your neck, something between a grunt and a groan. Then, finally, he lifted his head and looked at you— brown, doe eyes, full pout in swing, and hair flopping boyishly on his head.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, very seriously.

Your fingers paused in his hair. "Of course."

"...Is there something going on with you and Regulus?"

Silence.

You blinked. "Regulus Black?"

James nodded miserably before burrowing his head into your lap.

"Love, what?" You asked, stunned and exasperated.

"I'm just asking." He mumbled. "People are saying things."

You laughed softly. "Okay, well, no. Nothing's going on with us. We're just friends. You know that."

James sat up. "Then why does everyone think you're dating him?"

You blinked again, trying to keep up with the sudden tempo change. His arms were crossed now, cheeks puffed out slightly, and brows drawn together like the cutest angry bear.

You bit back a smile. "I mean... maybe because we're friends and we do study together?"

"But I'm dating you!" He whispered-shouted, pointing at himself. "We've been together for months! Why is he the one everyone thinks you're snogging?"

"Probably because we're hiding this, James." You gestured at the two of you. "Like it's the crown jewels."

He flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan. "Wormy heard the rumors. And you know he remembers everything and says it out loud like he's reading the newspaper headlines."

You lay down beside him and propped your head on your hand. "Okay... and what did he say?"

"That you and Regulus make sense. That you're both dark, mysterious, and brilliant, and pretty—"

You chuckled.

James glared at you. "And Moony agreed! He said you probably like quiet boys who look like they cry reading Wuthering Heights under the candlelight. What does that even mean?!"

You were full-on laughing now. "That does sound like Regulus."

James groaned again, rolling to his side so he could look at you. "And then Pads said you're pretty. And I almost popped a vein right there and then."

You gasped feigningly. "Sirius thinks I'm pretty? I must elope with him now."

"Don't joke like that!" He whined again.

You giggled, poking his chest. "I told you before, Regulus was just my friend. I help him with Potions, and he helps me with Charms. That's it. That's all."

James narrowed his eyes, still not convinced. "Are you sure you don't secretly like guys who brood?"

You booped his nose. "I only like you, Potter."

He huffed, a blush slowly creeping to his cheek. "...Really?"

"Yes. My sunshine, loud, chaotic boy."

James looked at you lovingly. But then, he tried to rally again, sitting up slightly. "I'm not jealous, by the way."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He hummed. "I'm just saying. Regulus is all... poetic and quiet and mysterious and you like books and art and moody stuff—"

You raised a brow. "So... you are jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are." You sing-sung.

"Am not!"

"Then why are you pouting?" You teased, reaching over to squish his cheeks.

"I always pout." He grumbled, but didn't resist the affection.

"And why'd you drag me to your bed like a clingy boyfriend who lost his teddy bear?"

"Because I am your clingy boyfriend who lost his teddy bear."

"Aww," You cooed, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "My poor jelly baby."

"I'm not jelly," He said with a pout.

You peppered his face with kisses until he stopped sulking, which only took about eight seconds. You were now situated on his lap, hands cupping both of his cheeks, while his hands were on your waist, pulling you close.

"I like you, James Potter. Not my poetic, sad-boy friend. Not Sirius. Not Remus. Not Peter— although he is very entertaining."

"Thank Merlin." James sighed. "I don't think I could survive if I ever lost you to Regulus. I would become a monk."

"You? A monk? You couldn't go twelve hours without touching me."

He grinned, face buried in your shoulder. "You know me so well."

“I do. So trust me when I say you’re my favorite boy. The loudest, sweetest, most golden-hearted one of all.”

“Even if I don’t read Wuthering Heights?”

“Especially because you don’t read Wuthering Heights.”

James grinned.

And if you caught him muttering mine mine mine mine into your neck while you both fell asleep, you didn’t say anything.

But you definitely smiled the whole time.

©kjhbsies

taglist: @tamprongsobsessor

[theonottsbxtch]

I KNOW LOVE | CS55

an: i know love when it hits when it hits yeah i know lovvvvvvveeeee. i want to be in love im sick and tired of being single. anyway enjoy this situationship turned relationship.

wc: 2.6k

summary: a university student and a carlos sainz fall into a no-strings-attached situationship that slowly, quietly turns into something real. between teasing banter, soft confessions, and tender moments, they navigate the blurred lines of love and timing. what begins as casual ends in a kiss on the graduation steps, proving that love doesn't always come loud. sometimes it arrives exactly when you're ready.

SHE HADN’T MEANT TO MEET ANYONE THAT NIGHT.

It was meant to be one of those throwaway evenings. Cheap drinks, too-loud music, and her best friends dragging her onto sticky dancefloors under pulsing neon lights. A Friday night reset before deadlines started piling up again. But then there he was.

Carlos.

All dark eyes and an easy smile, pressed against the bar like he wasn’t used to standing still for long. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone she’d scrolled past on Instagram once or twice, but she hadn’t connected the dots until later. After he’d offered her his jacket outside, after he’d walked her to her Uber and kissed her like he already knew what she tasted like.

That was six months ago.

They didn’t call it anything. No labels, no promises. He was a Formula One driver. 

A fucking Formula One driver.

Always bouncing between cities and time zones, giving her just enough to keep her coming back. And she was a full-time student, juggling seminars, flatmates, and a dissertation she barely understood. Still, between the chaos, they found time for stolen moments. Late-night calls, blurry selfies, hotel rooms that smelled like his cologne, and whispered words that felt dangerously close to confessions.

Now, she was sat in his Grove flat, legs draped over his lap, one of his race team hoodies drowning her frame. He was flipping through some post-race briefing on his iPad, lips moving as he read, brow furrowed. His accent was thick, words rolling off his tongue like slow honey, and every now and then he’d look up at her like she was the only thing in the room worth watching.

She wasn’t sure when it had changed. When casual had turned into something that lingered in the silence. When kisses stopped feeling like a game and started to taste like maybe.

Maybe she was already his. Maybe he was already hers.

“¿Qué?” he murmured, catching her watching him. “You look at me like that, I forget all my words.”

She smiled, heart tripping over itself.

“You should really learn to focus, Carlos.”

He leaned in, eyes dark and slow-burning, voice a low drawl. “Hard when you’re here.”

Carlos tossed the iPad onto the sofa with a sigh, stretching his arms behind his head like he hadn’t just stolen every ounce of her attention.

“You read that or just stared at the screen pretending to be clever?” she teased, nudging his knee with her toes.

He looked at her, deadpan. “I am clever. Just... very distracted.”

“Oh yeah? By what?”

He leaned closer, like he was going to whisper a secret, but all he said was, “You.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. “Smooth.”

“I am smooth.” His accent thickened around the vowels, “You say this like it’s not true. You know what they call me on track.”

“You flirt like it’s your job.”

He tilted his head, mock serious. “It’s not my job. I drive cars very fast. But this?” He gestured between them. “This, I do it for free.”

She laughed, curling her legs back under her. Carlos had a way of making her laugh without trying too hard. He didn’t come off like the typical athlete, didn’t need to peacock or throw stats in her face. He was easy, in a way that made him dangerous.

“Do you always flirt this much with girls you’re not dating?”

His mouth curved slightly. “We are not dating?”

Her breath caught. That was the thing with Carlos. Hhe could say something like that, loaded with implication, but his eyes would stay soft, almost shy, like he was trying it out on his tongue.

“I mean, we said no labels.”

He gave a little shrug, like labels were just stickers on a helmet. “Sometimes I think about... putting one on. Maybe. When you are not looking.”

She swatted his arm. “Cheeky.”

“You like it.”

She did. God, she really did.

Sometimes he brought her flowers, nothing fancy, usually from some street market in whatever city he’d landed in, always slightly crumpled from the travel, wrapped in paper that smelt like espresso and jet fuel. Once, he turned up outside her lecture hall in a hoodie and cap, waiting in a beat-up rental car, blasting music from the speakers. Another time, he’d cooked her dinner in his Monaco apartment, not well, but with so much heart it tasted like comfort anyway.

She learned early on that he liked to touch. Always brushing his fingers over her knuckles when she talked, or resting his palm against her thigh when he laughed. Acts of service came next, unasked for, casual, like carrying her shopping up three flights of stairs without blinking, or fixing the wobbly chair in her flat without mentioning it.

And when she was overwhelmed with uni stress and hadn’t replied to him all day, he’d sent a voice note. Just his voice, soft and sleepy and a little accented.

“Don’t worry, cariño. I wait. Always.”

She hadn’t even told him she liked being called that.

Now, she watched as he fumbled with the zip on her hoodie — his hoodie — and made a face like the whole thing was conspiring against him.

“Why do your zips always jam?” he grumbled.

“Because you insist on owning overpriced team merch that’s all show and no substance.”

“Hey,” he protested. “This is quality.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then lunged suddenly, pulling her into his lap with a laugh. “Okay, no more insults. You stay here, and be quiet. It's better that way.”

She wriggled, pretending to fight him off. “So bossy!”

“Mmm,” he murmured against her hair. “Only with you.”

They settled, eventually, in a tangle of limbs and easy silence. The telly played quietly in the background, but neither of them paid attention. Her fingers traced the soft fabric of his sleeve, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her cheek.

“Hey, Carlos?”

“Hmm?”

“If we keep doing... this,” she said, voice low, “are we ever going to talk about what it is?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kissed the top of her head, slow and careful, like the question mattered more than anything else in the world.

“Maybe. But not tonight.”

And somehow, she was okay with that.

Because love. Real love didn't always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it came like this.

Quiet. Familiar. And already here.

It was raining the next morning.

Not dramatic, cinematic rain, just that persistent England drizzle that made everything feel grey around the edges. The kind that clung to windows and turned pavements slick. She stirred awake to the smell of coffee and the faint hum of music from the kitchen, something mellow and Spanish that drifted through the flat like a memory.

Carlos had a habit of waking up before her. Not in a restless way, more like he just didn’t need much sleep. He always said racing taught him how to switch off and back on again like a light. Still, she never got used to finding the other side of the bed empty.

Pulling on a pair of his joggers, she padded barefoot into the kitchen. He stood by the stove, shirtless, hair messy, humming along to the song as he stirred something in a pan.

“You’re cooking?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

He turned, grinning. “Trying. No promises.”

“What is it?”

“Something my mama makes. Very simple. You’ll like it.”

She leaned against the counter, watching him move. The way he added things with a sort of confidence that didn’t entirely match the slight panic in his eyes. He was like that with everything, really. Confident, until he wasn’t. Charming, until it got too real.

He set two plates down and slid one in front of her with a flourish.

“Taste. And be kind.”

She took a bite. It was warm, garlicky, a little too salty. But perfect in a way that had nothing to do with flavour.

“It’s good,” she said softly.

He beamed, relief flickering across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ve won me over with your terrible attempt at Spanish comfort food.”

“Terrible?” he gasped, placing a hand on his chest like she’d wounded him. “You wound me, mi vida.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You just love being dramatic.”

“You just love me.”

The words slipped out so casually, so easily, that for a moment she didn’t react. He was already reaching for the kettle like he hadn’t just cracked open something fragile between them.

Her breath caught.

“You said—”

“I know,” he said, not looking at her. “Was a joke.”

It wasn’t. She knew it. He knew she knew.

“Carlos.”

He finally looked at her. The humour was gone from his face, replaced by something quieter. Something that felt a lot like fear.

“I think about it sometimes,” he said, his voice lower now. “Saying it. For real. But I don’t want to scare you.”

She stared at him, heart thudding in her chest. Not because she was afraid, but because she wasn’t.

“I’m not scared.”

He smiled, small and unsure. “I am.”

She reached for his hand across the counter, fingers threading through his. His palm was warm, slightly calloused, trembling just the tiniest bit.

“Carlos,” she whispered. “Say it.”

He hesitated, eyes scanning her face like he was still trying to decide if this was safe. And then, just barely audible over the rain against the windows, he said it again, softer, and this time, real.

“I love you.”

No fireworks. No music swelling in the background. Just those three words, fragile and naked and hanging in the air between them.

He looked at her, dark eyes open and honest in a way that made her chest ache. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured.

“I want to,” she said quietly.

He stilled.

“I love the way you always try to cook for me, even though you never measure anything properly,” she began, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I love the way you switch to Spanish without realising when you're tired. The way you fiddle with your necklace when you’re nervous. I love that you let me steal your hoodies even though you pretend to complain.”

His eyes softened, like each word was settling somewhere deep inside him.

“I love how you always remember to ask about my deadlines even when you’ve just come back from a race halfway across the world. I love the way you look at me like I’m the only person in the room. And I love—” she paused, voice barely a breath now, “—I love you, Carlos.”

His jaw tightened slightly, like he was trying not to fall apart. “Joder,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. “You say these things and now I don’t know what to do with myself.”

She laughed, muffled against his skin. “You don’t have to do anything.”

But he pulled back just enough to see her face. “No, no, I want to. I love... how you talk back to me, even when I’m trying to be charming. I love how you look in the morning when your hair’s a mess and you’re still half-asleep and grumpy. I love how you look at me like I’m not just the racing guy.”

“You’re not,” she whispered. “Not to me.”

“I love that you make me slow down,” he said, brushing a hand down her cheek. “You make everything quiet. Even the noise in my head.”

She didn’t give him time to say more. She just kissed him, not the kind of kiss that tried to prove anything, but the kind that simply was. The kind that told him she was staying. The kind that said, we’re in this now.

When they finally pulled apart, he was smiling, a real one, soft and boyish and slightly dazed.

“I can’t wait to show you off,” he said, thumb brushing her lower lip. “You have no idea.”

She raised a brow, amused. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” He looked offended.

“No paddock,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “Not until I graduate.”

He groaned, loud and dramatic, flopping backwards onto the nearest chair like she’d just cancelled Christmas, leaving his plate of food to go cold.

“You are cruel. Cruel,” he mumbled, arm flung over his eyes. “Do you know how long that is?”

“Five months.”

“Five months?!” He peeked at her. “That is forever. I’ll be grey.”

“You’ll survive,” she said, perching on his lap and poking his side.

“I’ll wither without you next to the garage.”

“Carlos,” she said dryly, “you’re literally on telly every other Sunday. You’ll manage.”

He sighed deeply, then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in so their foreheads touched again.

“Fine,” he said, voice quieter now. “But the second you toss that cap in the air at graduation... I’m making you mine in front of everyone.”

Her heart gave the softest thump.

“You already have me.”

And he did.

He didn’t care about all the phones capturing the moment, or the look of shock on her classmates’ faces as he kissed her senseless on the steps of the graduation hall.

She’d barely turned around after tossing her cap when he found her, grinning, breathless, and already tearing across the crowd like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Carlos—what are you��?”

“I told you,” he murmured, already wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her clean off the ground. “No more waiting.”

And then he kissed her. Right there, in front of her entire class. In front of her professors, her friends, even her mum, who pretended to be scandalised but later whispered that she always had a soft spot for Spanish men with good teeth and bad timing.

It was ridiculous. It was loud. It was absolutely perfect.

After that, everything changed. Not all at once, more like dominoes falling gently, one by one.

She started travelling with him between her freelance work and post-grad plans. Not every race, just the ones that fit. Enough that his team started saving her a spare pass without asking. She kept her boundaries, her life. But somehow, they found a way to overlap without losing themselves.

He still brought her flowers from dodgy airport shops. Still sent voice notes when they were apart, his voice sleep-rough and full of words that didn't always come out in the right order, but always landed in exactly the right place.

He’d whisper “te quiero” into her hair when he thought she was asleep. She wasn’t. Not once.

They argued, sometimes, usually about stupid things, like how she always left wet towels on the floor, or how he kept eating her snacks and then replacing them with “better ones” from some Spanish brand she didn’t even like. But they always found their way back.

They became a thing, not in the public, polished way people expected, but in the quiet, private corners of the world they carved out for themselves. Late nights watching old race footage. Slow mornings tangled up in hotel sheets. Sundays when he wasn’t in the points and she said the right things without pretending to understand every detail.

She loved him for who he was, not what he did. And he adored her for all the things she didn’t realise she gave him.

The calm. The truth. The place to land.

And when they fell asleep, limbs tangled, voices low and sleepy and full of I love you’s in whichever language felt right there was no need to call it anything but theirs.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @carlossainzapologist @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn @obxstiles

[astars-things]

Hate and comfort

Lando norris x reader

Summary- where y/n joins quadrant athletes and gets hated on because people only think she got in because Lando is her boyfriend. (Mix of Insta edits, written and tweets, also please lmk if you like me adding the tweets or not, in my inbox or comments )

*I don't own any of these photos they are from pinterest

Liked by @.maxfewtrell @.Landonorris and others

@.Quadrant Please welcome the newest adrenaline junkie to the team Y/n. Y/n has been a part of the Nitro circus for 4 years, pulling off world-class stunts and we can't wait to see what she can bring to the team.

tagged @.Y/n.L/n

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@.Hater Wait so she does flips in the air and we’re calling her an athlete?? be serious.

@.hater2 Nepotism wins again 💅

@.maxfewtrell welcome to the team y/n/n

@.Hater3 I just unsubscribed

@.Y/n.L/n Thank you for signing me 💚

→ @.Hater4 SLUT

You laid in your hotel bed, tears rolling down your face as you read the comments, you have had your fair share of hate. Being a woman in a male-dominated sport you were judged, if you cried you were over sensitive, if you have male friends you're a slut, If you celebrated, you were cocky and the list goes on. But this was different.

What made it all harder was the fact that you were completely alone. Melbourne was another stop on tour with Nitro Circus, just another city, another crowd. You were 10,000 miles away from your family and friends, the people who had stood trackside in the pouring rain just to see you land your first flip. You were 8,000 miles away from Lando, the one person who could make the noise fade with just a look, the only one who knew how to hold you when the world got too loud.

Your relationship had only been going on for about a year, you both had made a decision not to go public, with all his crazy fan girls and the media, it would have just torn you two apart. Seeing all the comments on the new quadrant post made your brain go into overtime with thoughts filling your head 

Was Lando really worth the pain? Do I say anything? 

Just as your head was filling with more thoughts, you heard your phone buzz from where you had just dropped it 

Lando 🧡 Love, I know you are seeing the comments 

Lando 🧡  I wish more than anything i could be there right now just to pull the phone out of your hands and remind you who the fuck you are

Read

You turned your head to the side to read the clock that was beside your hotel bed, and when it read 1 am, you let out a sigh and opened up your F1 app so you could watch the Saudi Arabian race. For the first time that night, you smiled, watching Lando go from p10 to p4. You watched the podium celebration before putting your phone on charge and going to sleep, dreading what you were going to face tomorrow

That morning when you woke up your phone was just flooded with notification and it overwhelmed you, so you messaged your trainer and some of the staff letting them know you were turning off your phone, once the messages were sent you turned off your phone with a heavy sigh and got your head in the game.

You just had to get through practice tonight and the show tomorrow, and just a few more stops of the Australian leg of the tour. Then you can fly back home and be with your family and support system. The ones who didn’t question your worth or weigh your success against who you were dating.

What you didn't know was that Lando was currently on a plane to you. Rushing through the media of the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. To then fly to Melbourne to hold you. (I know the timeline doesn't make sense, but this is fiction, not real life so just go with it)

Lando had messaged the team asking if they could help surprise you. Lando had given them a rundown of the situation and the plan of action. Luck was on Landos' side tonight, his plane landed an hour before practice was scheduled to finish, which meant he had enough time to quickly get your hotel room card from your trainer, have a shower, get some food for both of you and get some other essentials.

Lando sat on the edge of the hotel bed, waiting for you. Your trainer had sent Lando a message saying you were on your way up to the hotel room. Lando was mentally freaking out he wanted everything to be perfect, he could hear your voice from outside the door and so he stood up holding the flowers he got on his way to the hotel and stood there waiting for you to enter the room

You let out a slow breath, shoulders heavy with exhaustion, your mind already shutting down from the day. The door clicked open, and you pushed it gently, stepping inside. That's when you froze, your mouth wide open from shock, Lando is here like right in front of me, you thought, still not being able to let any words out

His voice was soft. "Hey, love." Before your mind could process what was happening, your body made its way to Lando. He held you with so much love. "I’ve got you," he whispered after a moment, lips brushing the top of your head. "I’m right here. Let it out, love."

Liked by @.Y/n.L/n @.Quadrant and others

@.Landonorris 8,000 miles. 18-hour flight. I would do it 100 times over again just for you...when you love someone as much as I love y/n, you’ll do whatever it takes to show up. I didn't travel across the Indian Ocean just to stay quiet 🧡

We have only been dating for a year, and y/n has been doing Nitro Circus for 4 years. Y/n is not here because of me she’s here because she’s damn good at what she does and I'm happy to be her wag and show the world how amazing she is.

So, to whoever this may concern kindly fuck off with your hate comments!

Tagged @.Y/n.L/n

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@.maxfewtrell Damn y/n you really are lucky Lando wouldn't do that for me 🥲

@.user Lando is really the definition of "if he wanted to he would"

→@.Landonorris damn right I am

@.danielricciardo mate said 🏎️🏁✈️🏃‍♂️‍➡️🫂💥

*liked by @.Y/n.L/n and others

@.Quadrant Say it louder for the haters in the back 🧡

@.McLaren Well said, Lando. We stand with Y/N always.

Lando sat in the stands, with a Nitro hoodie, black jeans, with his white Air Forces on, he had a special surprise just for you, he’d been holding onto since landing in Melbourne. He just needed the perfect moment. Before the show, the team had asked if it was alright to feature him in the crowd during your performance you replied with "yeah sure fuck it"

You had your helmet, full gear on, and adrenaline pulsing through your veins, just waiting for the signal from the staff to announce you and the rest of the dirt bike crew. Once you got the signal, you rode out of the tunnel, riding up the ramp. In one fluid motion, you launched into the air, legs stretched behind you in a perfect Superman pose, landing clean like it was second nature.

The crowd was in chaos with all the cheering. You looked up at the jumbotron to see your boyfriend Lando with his hoodie lifted up to show off the t-shirt he was wearing,

Which was a black t-shirt with "Y/ns' #1 WAG" printed on with white writing, you stopped for a moment, your cheeks going red under your helmet, and soon you let out a little laugh.

Once the show was done, you made your way to the fan zone, quickly signing as much as you could before making your way to where Lando had been standing. Lando picked you up effortlessly, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and wasted no time in pulling him into a kiss

"You were amazing out there," Lando murmured, his voice full of admiration, his arms tight around you. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your lips curling into a soft smile. "Thank you for showing up", You spoke with tears welling up in your eyes

"Like I said in my Instagram post, I would do it 100 times over again just for you", Lando said with nothing but love in his eyes placing another kiss to your lips. This was where you belonged, right here, in his arms

@.Y/n.L/n posted on her story

🎵Lover by Taylor Swift

please reblog and like 🫶

I think this is my favorite fic I've written so far...also, if you would like a pt2 or for me to turn this into an au in the future, please lmk in the comments or my inbox

[willowsnook]

https://www.tumblr.com/willowsnook/777849918464393216/halfway-to-always-pt-2

more pleaseeeeeeee!!! maybe like their relationship growing more ? idk more relationship things since we technically haven’t see them together

pt. 1, pt. 2

Quinn hughes x sharks!reader

—-------------------------------------------

Long distance had not been easy, but you and Quinn were really trying to make it work. It was a lot of late-night calls, quick trips across the border, and constant texting. If you were at a different point in your life, you might complain, but where you are now was actually perfect. You didn’t have to worry about splitting time between work and a boyfriend, because your boyfriend lived 900 miles away, so he wasn’t expecting your physical time. 

It was easy for him too – he had strayed away from relationships ever since he was drafted in the NHL, not wanting to put someone through the experience of him being away all the time and always focused on hockey. The first half of the season came and went and you fell into a good routine: watch Quinn’s games when you could, call him after, fall asleep to his voice.

It was after a night Sharks game, when you saw that someone else had tried to call you: Ellen. The second you saw the missed call, you immediately dialed her number. 

“Hey Ellen, sorry I missed your call,” you said, concerned. It was pretty late where she was at so the unexpected call had you on high alert. 

“Hey sweetheart, I know you don’t have your phone on during games, but I wanted to tell you that Quinn got hurt tonight,” she said softly.

Your heart sank, “How hurt?” 

“Not terribly, but something with his obliques,” she said. “I talked to him an hour ago, he said it’s looking like there’s a good chance he’s going to miss some games.”

You were devastated for Quinn; missing some upcoming games likely meant he wouldn’t be able to play in the Four Nations tournament either. He was so happy when he was selected for the team and you knew this would crush him. You thanked Ellen for the call and called your boyfriend next. 

“Hi baby,” he greeted sleepily. 

"Hi, I just heard. Are you okay?" Your voice was tight with concern.

"I've been better," Quinn sighed, and you could practically see him running a hand through his hair, that frustrated gesture you'd come to know so well. "Doc says it's just a strain, but..." He trailed off.

"Ellen mentioned you might miss some games."

A heavy pause hung between you. "Yeah. And probably Four Nations too." His voice cracked slightly on the last word, confirming your fears.

"Oh, Quinn," you whispered, wishing more than anything you could be there to hold him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's hockey, you know? These things happen." He was trying to sound casual, but you could hear the disappointment weighing down each word. "I just... I wanted it so badly.”

He sounded so meek over the phone, and your heart broke in half listening. You tried to keep the conversation going but saying he was tired, all you could do was remind him that you were here for him before hanging up.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He had his bag thrown over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Quinn injured his oblique,” you told him, trying to keep your emotions at bay. 

“How bad?” He asked. 

“Bad,” you replied. “He’s going to miss four nations.” 

Will held open his arms, and you crumpled into them, trying to take deep breaths. You heard him talking to someone else so you pulled back, meeting Macklin’s sad gaze. He collected you from Will’s arms and held you tightly against him. 

“Okay, let’s make a plan,” Macklin told Will. “You deal with the flight stuff and I’ll get her stuff from the apartment?”

“Already looking up flights,” Will said, scrolling through his phone. “Last one of the night leaving in two hours. I’ll get it.” 

“How much is it?” You asked, turning to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Will,” you warned, and he gave you a look.

“Dude, we make so much money, it doesn’t matter.” 

He didn’t let you argue any further and after a quick stop by your apartment you were on your way to the airport. 

Macklin had driven you, and you sat in silence for a moment before he nudged your shoulder gently.

"He's going to be okay, you know," he said softly. "Hockey players are built differently."

You nodded, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. "I know. It's just... he wanted this so badly."

"And he'll have other opportunities," Macklin assured you. "But right now, what he needs is you."

The flight to Vancouver was mercifully quick, though you spent most of it staring at the seat in front of you, unable to sleep despite the late hour. By the time you arrived at his apartment, it was nearly 3 AM. You used the key he had given you the last time you’d seen him to open the door to the quiet place. 

Being as quiet as possible, you set your bag down on the couch before heading towards Quinn’s room. Taking a moment, you admired his sleeping form, his eyebrows were unconsciously furrowed, an almost scowl on his face. 

You stepped into the room slowly, unsure if you should wake him. But as if sensing you, Quinn stirred, his eyes blinking open. The second he registered that it was you standing in his doorway, his expression softened.

"Hey," he rasped, voice thick with sleep and surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I got on the first flight I could," you said, stepping closer. "I couldn’t just stay there knowing you were hurting."

He sat up with a wince, pushing the blankets down to his waist. “You flew all the way from San Jose… in the middle of the night?”

You nodded, climbing up onto the bed beside him. “Of course I did.”

His jaw clenched for a second, like he was trying to hold something in, but then he reached out and gently pulled you into him. His hand slid around the back of your neck, his lips pressing against your temple. “You’re crazy,” he whispered.

“I know,” you whispered back. “But I love you. And I wanted to be here.”

“You love me?” He asked, frozen in place. Your breath hitched, not realizing what you had let slip out. 

Your heart hammered against your ribs as the admission hung in the air between you. You hadn't planned to say it like this—in his darkened bedroom at 3 AM, both of you exhausted, him injured—but there it was.

"I do," you said softly, deciding to own the moment rather than try to take it back. "I love you, Quinn."

His eyes searched yours in the dim light, a mix of vulnerability and wonder crossing his features. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I love you too," he whispered, his hand gently cupping your face. "God, I've been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I didn't want to say it over the phone."

Relief washed over you, followed quickly by a warmth that spread through your chest. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“If it means I get to be woken up at 3am to you in my room, I’ll do it more often,” he joked and you laughed. His tone turned serious again, “I’m glad you’re here. I needed you.”

“I know,” you told him, bringing your lips to press against his. “I’m here, always.” 

[myntrose]

10:52 pm - domestic moments (indoor date night) w/caleb

Your ever busy schedule can only be matched with Caleb's even busier workload. Both of you knew that your relationship would involve a lot less physical time with each other. You're lucky to even see him in the morning before him or you head to work.

That's why date nights are especially rare. Again, it wasn't like you both didn't want to have a nice night out every now and then. However, the amount of times a date night had to be postponed, rescheduled, or downright canceled due to work has caused a major headache in your lives.

Caleb hadn't realized how much this affected you. It wasn't until he once came home, at the dead of night, to see you silently sobbing into your shared bed that he realized that he hasn't truly seen much of you in a long time.

And oh, he hates seeing you cry. He hated being the reason why tears feel upon your face. Approaching you in bed, he cupped your face while holding your body close. Caleb promises you a night, where it would just be you and him together. Separate from the world. Away from life and its responsibilities that tugged away from you. While it was only for a night, it was a start.

That's how tonight happens. You had some work duties during the morning, but Caleb told you not to worry and just make it home in one piece. A surprise, he has said. You could barely focus at work, buzzing at each tick of the clock until work hours ended. What had Caleb planned? A fancy reservation at a new restaurant? Maybe a picnic in some hidden spot? Hell, even if it was just hanging out at home and playing board games you were down. All you wanted was to finally spend some time with your boyfriend.

You could have rivaled the speed of light with how fast you sprinted out the building. After a few long, excruciating hours of sitting around work and basically doing nothing, you could finally go home and spend time with Caleb.

As you walk home, you realize that it had started to rain. So, that probably ruled out the plan of an outdoor date. A shame, but you're sure you'll still have fun. You enter your (and Caleb's) shared home, only to be hit with the smell of your favorite dish wafting through the air.

Behind the stove was none other than the man who looked at you like he was looking at his own salvation. Caleb seems focused on the task in front of him. Of course he knew your favorite food. Sometimes it scares you, the fact that he knows more about you than you do about yourself.

Making your way to him, you greet him by wrapping your arms around his body. He doesn't act surprise, almost as if he knew you had been there the whole time (he did, he always knew when you entered a room).

He puts down his utensils, setting the heat to low, before turning to you. Before you can process it, Caleb picks you up, and sets you down on the counter next to him. He decides to settle between your legs, caging you with his large body. His face buries itself into the nook of your neck.

You can feel his breath turning more and more steady. With this proximity, you can feel his heartbeat. It mimics your own, quick but controlled, sporadic but at peace. Despite having been together for a while now, neither of you can help this feeling of deep devotion towards each other.

Much against his wishes to stay like this forever, Caleb moves away first, greeting you with that same smile that you fell in love with years ago.

"missed you, pipsqueak"

Three words. one being that nickname you've grown to love. it doesn't take much to cause your heart to beat a bit faster.

"Go ahead a wash up. I already made your bath. We're having a movie night, and we can eat on the couch"

Nodding at his words, you hop off the counter, leaving Caleb to finish cooking your meal. He wasn't kidding about preparing your bath. You enter the bathroom to see the bath ready, bubbles and bath salts, your favorite products lined up. God, Caleb knew you so well.

Although staying in the bath was a tempting option, you wanted nothing more but to be within Caleb's proximity. So, you push yourself out of the comfort of the bath, and throw on your favorite pajamas- that being a pair of your shorts and Caleb's t-shirt.

Meanwhile in the living room, Caleb had prepared everything. He had picked out your favorite movies, set up dinner on the coffee table, and arranged your favorite snacks as well. He was just about done setting up when he seeing you emerge from your shared room.

God, you're beautiful, he thinks. Yes, your hair is still damp, you're wearing the baggiest clothes, wearing no makeup or anything. Yes, he still thinks you the most beautiful thing in this world.

You see the spread that Caleb has prepared, and it makes you want to tear up a bit. He did all this, taken a day of work, to prepare a night where it was just you two in your own world.

Caleb pulls you from your spot, dragging you into the couch. He sets you both to where your legs are on top of his. He throws over a blanket over you two, and presses play on the first movie.

It never has to be fancy or intricate with Caleb. He knows you, and knows exactly what to do during these rare times when you both care indulge each other's company.

While you know that you both have to return to the real world tommorow, you settle into the comfortable space you've both created for each other.

I need lover boy!caleb now pls and thank you

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Lament for the living

Written for round 1 of the @steddiebingo and for the April 2025 round of the @stmonstercalendar

Prompts: Scream and Banshee

Relationship: pre-Steddie

Words: 1,168 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Death and mourning; Irish Steve; Ghost Eddie; Canon-adjacent

Notes: I have no idea what this is but it has acquired a plot again.

Steve first learned about the family ghost on the day he saw his grandpa for the last time. Mom had stepped out of the hospital room to talk to one of the nurses and dad was somewhere downstairs, taking an important business call. Steve, eleven years old and still clinging to the childish hope that things would be alright, made smalltalk for a while, telling grandpa about school and girls and the next big game he had coming up.

“Maybe you could come,” he said. “It's still a few weeks from now, so maybe you'll be fine by then. Maybe you-”

His voice cracked, and grandpa took his hand.

“I'll be there,” he promised. “Even if you won't be able to see me.”

Steve sobbed. “Don't say that. You can't give up like that, you can still make it.”

“No, kid,” grandpa shook his head, gaze shifting to the open window, and suddenly Steve realized how very tired he looked. “It's time for me to go, I know it. I've been hearing it call to me for days now.”

Steve blinked the tears from his eyes, head whipping to the window, but there was nothing there. “What are you- … what's calling you?”

Grandpa smiled and leaned closer, the way he always did when letting him in on one of his stories. The ones about ghosts and spirits that mom didn't like.

“The banshee. It's said that all families from the old country have one. They're spirits guiding our souls from this world to the next. When you start to hear their cries, it means that your time has come.”

Steve should've been too old to believe in fairy tales, but something about the words sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Grandpa died some time that night, quicker and more quietly than the doctors had been expecting. Steve was the only one who wasn't surprised.

*

Steve first starts hearing it around the time Barb disappears. He doesn’t recognize it for what it is at first, and he doesn’t think he can be faulted for that. Sixteen is way too early to expect the herald of your imminent death, for one thing. For another, it sounds nothing like he thought it would.

He was imagining screams and shrieks and wails, a sound to make your blood freeze in your veins and your heart go numb with terror. Instead, it's singing.

A low, raspy voice carrying out of the woods behind the house. There aren't any words to the song - none that Steve can make out, at least - and still there's a beauty and sadness to it that makes his heart clench. He assumes it must be one of the neighbors, and it's only when he mentions the song to Nancy and she looks at him like he's crazy, that it slowly starts to dawn on him that what he's hearing is his own lament.

And so, when the demogorgon peels itself from the ceiling in the Byers house, he grabs a nail bat and starts swinging, because if he's going to die, he might as well die doing something worthwhile. It's what he keeps doing in the years after. Fighting off monsters in the junkyard, throwing himself between Billy Hargrove and the kids, turning himself into a human shield again and again and again. He starts losing count of how many times he comes close to the brink of death. Every time he does, the singing fades for a short while. Every time, it isn't too long before it picks back up again, louder and closer than before.

When it wakes him on an early spring night in 1986, it's just outside his window, and he knows every single note by heart.

He's also goddamn annoyed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve mutters, throwing off the covers and stomping over to the window with a bravado that probably only a person who has unexpectedly survived multiple apocalypses can muster. “Excuse me? You? Yes, you! Are we sure this is it this time around, because it's kind of getting really old!”

The singing stops. A pair of dark, startled eyes gawks at him.

Steve gawks back. He isn't quite sure what he imagined the banshee to look like, but he knows it wasn't this. The guy looks almost shockingly normal. Roughly his own age, with a mop of dark curls falling over bony shoulders and full, pink lips that are now lightly parted in surprise. If Steve saw him in the street, he probably wouldn't give him a second look - if it wasn't for the tattered white shroud he's wearing, and the fact that he is ever so slightly translucent.

“What?” the boy asks after a minute or two.

Steve shakes himself, remembering he's supposed to be mad.

“I said,” he repeats, “are we actually sure I'm gonna snuff it this time, because so far all your yammering has done is give me migraines.”

“No,” the boy says. “I mean … why are you-? You shouldn't be able to see me.”

Steve scoffs. “Uh-huh. And you shouldn't be doing this for four years straight, I'm pretty damn sure, so maybe you just suck at your job.”

“Excuse me?” the boy bristles. “I've been doing this for eight-hundred-and-seventy-two years and this is the first time this has happened. It's not my fault. It's…I dunno, this fucking place. The stupid hellhole under this town is messing everything up.”

“Yeah, tell me about-” Steve starts to say, then pauses. “Wait a sec, you know about the Upside Down?”

The boy huffs.

“Oh, I know everything about you, big boy,” he says, leaning closer on his branch and kicking his naked feet. It's a perfectly innocent statement in and by itself, but something about the way he twirls his hair and wags his eyebrows makes Steve's stomach give a funny flutter.

“Except for when I'm going to die, apparently,” he snaps, noticing with a warm surge of satisfaction how the boy's translucent face flushes. For a few moments, the only sound is that of the wind rustling the leaves. Somewhere in the woods, an owl hoots.

“Anyhow,” Steve says. “I'm going back to bed. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't wake me again, unless it's an actual, life-threatening-”

“Wait!” He turns. The boy's grin has gone a little manic, his eyes a little desperate. “Why don’t you stay a little longer? We could talk- … I mean, maybe I could help figure this out? Not to brag, but I know a lot about supernatural shit.”

Steve hesitates. If the guy is telling the truth and has been doing this for eight-hundred-and-who-knows-how-many years, maybe he does know something that can help them.

He's also probably pretty damn lonely if Steve’s the only person in all that time who's actually been able to see him.

He heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine, whatever. What do you know?”

Befriending the family ghost sure as hell wasn’t on Steve’s agenda for this year, but he's long learned to roll with the unexpected.

More Steddie Bingo

More monster loving

[arinzu]

BLLK IMAGINES

How would these characters reach differently if you were their first love vs first love.

DETAILS/ P1/P2 (COMING SOON)

featuring. Isagi, Rin, Bachira, Nagi and reo. GN! READER

Trope`s. FIRST LOVE VS FIRST LOVE.

I need people to see this because it's so good i swear!!!

ISAGI YOICHI

FIRST love He met you while he was in a competition in your school. It was intense round between your team and theirs, eventually Isagi's team triumph with a score of 3-2. Impress by your ability. So when you asked for his number. he didn't say no. You both were blunt, not one for games but rather one for challenges. He talk with you late into the night about football. But he did notice some things about you like, the way you speak so passionately about the sport. So when you asked him out on a date, he didn't refuse, slowly that date turned into a relationship. His heart didn't flutter like the way the movies describe it suppose to be. In reality the 'i love you' shared between you and him felt emotionless, not a feeling- but a task. He did valued the relationship like bringing you flowers, but that flowers weren't your favourite. Talking like lovebirds, but it was more chit chatting like birds. So when the time came you pulled him close into a hug and asked to break up, he didn't fight back, didn't try to resolve, or fight. It was just a chapter closed.

...

First LOVE It wasn't always like this, he watch you play your guitar after school. Your fingers gliding through the strings as you hummed a melody, you look so peaceful. He felt something in his chest whenever you spoke to him, whether it was about school or sports. The way you chit chat to him if you saw him, made his heart flutter. Unlike the first, he was there, trying his best to speak up and listen to you talk. He didn't need to hide his chatter when he's with you. He just let it all out, he felt comfortable with you. it was a slow process, long chats late into the night. Joking around in class. At first he didn't even know that he had fallen for you— once he realise this, he tried to rationalise this feeling. Suddenly it hits him like a brick at 11 pm at night, he finally admits he fell for you. He thinks about you every night before he goes to sleep. He blushes when he talks to you. He really does like you. You were like a song, a lyric, a melody, everything inside one person, that he can't get rid of.

ITOSHI RIN

FIRST Love He met you during a training camp arranged between your schools. At first, you clashed— his bluntness, his cold stare, the way he treated everyone like they were in his way. But somehow, something about your calm persistence, started to pull his attention. Eventually, Rin asked you out. No grand gestures. Just a quiet and firm gesture. He didn’t even look up when he said it. And so, you became his first relationship. It wasn’t a fairy tale. He wasn’t the type to say sweet things or hold your hand in public. But he tried in his own way— walking you home, waiting for your messages even when he didn’t reply right away, staying up to watch your matches. You had moments. Quiet ones. Like watching the rain fall together, or him lending you his hoodie without a word when you were cold. But something was missing. While he was your first relationship, you realized… you weren’t in love. Breaking up with Rin wasn’t dramatic. He just nodded, eyes lowered, and accepted, because he knew you both were not meant to be. If you didn't take the initiative he'll take it himself.

...

First LOVE He doesn't fall easily, he didn't need distractions. That's why he built a strong and tall wall around him. He had a goal, and that goal was beating his brother. Then you showed up — loud in the quietest way. You didn’t demand attention, but somehow… his never left you. It started small, like passing notes or talking after class. Soon it escalated to making fun of his grade in math, to him offering his snacks since you were gonna steal it like it was natural anyways. He let you have it He saw things about you that you didn't even know. How you stare outside the window when you thought the teacher wasn't looking. How your voice got softer when you talk about something you liked. It was so engrave to his thoughts that he particularly memorise you, he knew you before you did. He understand this whatever this— was, it wasn't a crush nor a phase, or someone he cared for. You were it. You were his first love. First one to enter his world after Sae.

BACHIRA MEGURU

FIRST Love The simple and calm person to his energetic and golden retriever persona. You called him cute, and he blush. He held your hand. Everyone said you both were a match made in heaven. But the monster inside of him told him that he was playing someone else's role in your story. He didn't want to believe it. Late night calls, matching bio's and cheesy 'i miss you' at 2 am. He never told you about his monster, he didn't let you see his imperfections. Years of bullying taught him that it was better to hide himself. So he smiled the biggest, talk the loudest, the version of himself that people liked. Until that all faded... you grabbed him pulling him into a warm embrace. You knew that wasn't the real him, so you let him go. You'll support him not as a lover but a friend. And you were right. Because he liked you... but never loved you. He trusted you... but not enough. You were his first relationship. But you weren’t his first love.

...

First LOVE You match everything inside him, you laughed at his jokes and gave your own. Too much, too loud, too messy, but that didn't stop you to be who you were. When he was annoying you called him out, but you never saw him as broken. You understand him like a painting, colour and the brush stroke to the tinniest details. You let him be him, defending, arguing and fighting, He liked that spark. You were like him but also having your own monster. The monster inside him enjoyed your monster, that voice told him that you were special, and he knew it wasn't just a crush. He asked him mom about what to do, and the answer was to tell you. If he messed it up then it's on him, on the other hand if you accept then he might actually pass out. When the time come he'll do it, you made him feel seen and heard. You were his voice and never tried to leave, you weren't just a chapter but a whole book. You were his first love. Not because you made his heart race. But because you made it feel safe to stop running.

NAGI SEISHIRO

FIRST Love Relationships was a hassle, dating was something he was dragged to. You asked and he said okay. It was okay, at first- the occasional conversations, texts with hearts, posting pictures, but once you expected him to reply after a few minutes or expected him to care more it became a hassle He didn't hate it. He frankly didn't feel anything. Holding hands didn’t make his chest warm. Your kisses didn’t linger. When you smiled, he smiled back because it was expected— not because he meant it. When you asked if he was there, he didn't know how to reply, he was there, just not emotionally. That was the reason you two broke up He didn't feel hurt. You were like an unwanted app he uninstalled.

...

First LOVE You didn't force him to be present, but you sure did made yourself present. And that what led him to notice you. He really looked, it wasn't like the nagi who scores goals or naps between practice — the Nagi who gets bored with everything, the Nagi who sometimes wonders if he’s meant to feel more but doesn’t know how. You didn’t try to change him. You just... sat with him. And somehow, that silence with you felt louder than any conversation he'd had before. One day, you leaned your head on his shoulder, no words, no expectations— and he felt his whole chest ache in this slow, soft way. Like something inside me finally woke up. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to sleep through it.

MIKAGE REO

FIRST Love It started like most things in his life— polished, intentional, planned. You was smart, pretty, came from a good family. You both had chemistry, looked great together, and people said we were couple goals. he thought, Yeah, this makes sense. It felt like a win. Another thing to check off the list. You guys went on nice dates. Took cute photos. Held hands like it meant something. People envied us— which he thought mattered at the time. But… Something was missing. he'd smile, but not feel it. he'd talk, but filter everything. he felt like he was performing— like he was the Reo everyone expected. The one who wanted to win the world cup. He think you liked the version of him where he showed off — not the one who sat up at night wondering if he was ever enough without the money, the charm, the name. So when it ended, it didn’t hurt.

...

First LOVE You didn’t try to impress him. You didn’t care that he was a Mikage. You didn’t look at him like a trophy— you looked at him like an individual. You challenged him. Called him out when he was being arrogant. Saw through the mask— and didn’t flinch. And when you smiled at him, it wasn’t because of what he had, or what he could do. It was just… him. And suddenly, he didn’t want anything else. Not a title. Not applause. Not even the spotlight. Just you— sitting beside him, laughing at something stupid, looking at him like he was enough. When you speak something inside him broke. He knew this feeling all too well. Love. He won't tell anyone, but he'll try his best to capture your heart like you captured his. He didn't just wanna win you over, he wanted you. He'll be someone so great that even without being a Mikage, you will still smile at him like this You were more valuable then anything he own.

OMG FINALLY IT'S DONEEEE, I FEEL SO HAPPY. What did y'all think about bachira? was it too ooc??? please somone give me more characters to do this with!!! i loved and cried making this. Talking about making it 3:30 am rn.

[tgrs10]

Patience | PEDRI GONZALEZ⁸ [005]

MASTERLIST (N/A)

⤑ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩| 2,516

⤑ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮| After a game, you and Pedri share a private and intimate moment in the empty locker room. (REQ)

⤑ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | SMUT 18+!!! Public setting, unprotected sex, shower sex.

You were starting to think he’d take longer. The stadium had gone quiet some time ago, the chants, the camera shutters, the shrill whistle marking the final minute, all of it now softened into memory, hanging faintly in the air. The celebration had moved on. The crowd had emptied. What remained were echoes, the low murmur of distant voices, and the occasional scuff of a shoe against concrete somewhere inside the tunnel.

You sat on the empty player bench, arms loosely on top of your legs, phone resting untouched beside you. You weren’t upset. Not at all. Just a little tired. A little heavy from the buzz of adrenaline that wasn’t yours, the kind of stillness that only comes after a night too full of noise, lights, and emotion. Pedri was still on the field, still doing interviews, still smiling for the press, still being pulled in every direction except yours. But you learned that it came with being in a relationship with him.

This was part of almost a deal, and you understood that and loved him anyway. No bitterness, no resentment, just a quiet patience, steady and sure. A small ache behind your ribs, maybe, not from hurt, but from want. You hadn’t been able to give him his celebration hug before they pulled him aside for interviews.

You kept your eyes on Pedri as he stood on the field, finishing what had to be his fifth interview of the night. You expected him to move on to another one, just like he’d been doing this whole time. But to your surprise, he glanced your way. And instead of turning back to another reporter, he started walking toward you across the field, a small smile pulling at his lips. His hair was still damp, clinging slightly to his forehead from the post-match splash of water. His jersey stuck to his skin with perspiration, and his cleats pressed into the grass with that lazy, worn-out rhythm you knew so well. There was a looseness to his walk, the post-match kind, part exhaustion, part adrenaline still humming in his veins.

“Lo siento,” he said as he reached you, his voice low and hoarse from the interviews and shouting on the pitch. “They wouldn’t let me go.” You rose from the bench slowly, legs a little stiff, brushing your hands over your jeans out of habit. He was right in front of you now, damp hair still dripping a bit from his temples, jersey clinging to his frame, eyes searching yours with that quiet, familiar guilt.

“It’s okay,” you said, stepping into him without hesitation. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and his came around your shoulders like second nature. “You were incredible tonight.” You buried your face into his chest for a moment, breathing him in, sweat, grass, that faint sharp cologne he always wore on game days. “I’m proud of you. You did amazing’’ 

He held you a beat longer, his hand rubbing lightly along your back before he pulled away just enough to see your face. There was a quiet kind of softness in his eyes, like he was trying to say everything he hadn’t had the time to earlier. “Thank you,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead, gentle, full of things he didn’t have the words for. He looked down, a little sheepish, then flicked his gaze back up with a faint tilt of his head toward the tunnel. “Walk with me to the lockers?” His voice was gentler now, threaded with something almost shy, like even after everything, he still needed to ask.

You walked with him, leaving the quiet of the bench behind as your footsteps met the edge of the pitch. Your fingers brushed his for just a second, a silent kind of closeness that didn’t need much more. The air inside the tunnel was cooler, echoing with the hum of the stadium winding down. Lights flickered overhead, casting soft shadows as you walked. His cleats clicked rhythmically on the concrete, grounding the silence between you. When you reached the locker room doors, the spot where you usually stopped and waited while he showered and changed after games, he didn’t let go of your hand. “Come in,” he said softly, almost cautiously. “No one’s here.” You blinked, your steps faltering. “You’re sure?”

He nodded once, gaze steady. “Gone. I’m sure.” You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what he meant. You did. And it wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Usually, you said no. Not out of coldness, but out of fear, of being caught in a place you shouldn’t be in. But tonight something was different, maybe it was the way he looked at you, like he needed you closer. “Pedri…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, still unsure. He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, steady, familiar, and opened the door, his hand never leaving yours. “It’s just us,” he said. And this time, you gave in and believed him.

The space was dim and quiet, the kind of quiet that settles after everyone else has gone. The air held the tension of the match, thick with leftover adrenaline and locker-room heat, cleats were kicked off in corners, shirts slung over benches, and a few water bottles left behind like afterthoughts. It felt more personal than you'd imagined. Like stepping into something you were never meant to see, and being let in any way.

Pedri let go of your hand only to push the door shut behind you, the soft click echoing against tile like a line being drawn. He didn’t say anything just looked at you. Eyes shadowed in the low light, lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to rush it. You stood still, arms loosely crossed, not because you were unsure of him, it was never him, but because this space wasn’t yours. Pedri moved first as he peeled off his jersey top in one smooth motion, muscles shifting under skin still damp from the match. The sharp scent of sweat and grass clung to him, the heat of adrenaline still faint on his skin. You looked away without meaning to, the moment too full, too raw, and too late for him not to catch it. But he noticed, “You’re nervous,” he said gently, stepping closer. “But you don’t have to be. No one is going to walk in, trust me.” 

You let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh, and finally dropped your arms. “I’m not nervous,” you said, barely louder than the hum of the lights above. Your eyes lingered on the scattered cleats, the half-zipped bags, the pieces of a world that had never really been yours, until now. Pedri didn’t say anything right away. He just stepped closer, slow and certain, until the air between you was shared. His hand brushed your wrist, then curled around your waist with a kind of reverence, like he was still asking even now. And then he kissed you without any rush. It deepened easily, the kind of kiss that took its time, until your fingers found the hem of his shirt and his hands slid beneath yours like muscle memory.

Somewhere between breath and heat, he lifted you, just like that, and carried you across the quiet space. You didn’t say anything, just held on, the soft thud of his cleats on tile the only sound. He set you down gently by the showers, eyes on you the whole time, waiting. You paused, breath shallow, heart loud in your chest. This was still unfamiliar, not him, but the space, the echo of it all.

But when his hand found yours again, grounding and warm, you nodded. Slowly, piece by piece, the layers came off. Jerseys. Shorts. Every barrier undone with care. He turned the knob, and the water rushed to life, steam curling upward as he pulled you in with him, close, skin to skin, the quiet turning into something else entirely.

You stepped out of your shoes, peeling off your layers slowly, half in a daze, half in anticipation,  until there was nothing between you but the wet air and your pulse roaring in your ears. You crossed the threshold, stepping into the stream beside him, and the warmth hit you like a sigh. Steam wrapped around your bodies, and water slid down your spine in lazy rivulets.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he’d been holding his breath since the final whistle, waiting for this exact moment. Then he touched you, hands tentative at first, thumbs brushing softly against your hips, fingers trailing slow, reverent lines down your arms like he was rediscovering you piece by piece. The warmth of the water paled compared to the heat of his touch. You reached up without thinking, your palms pressing flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand, calm, certain, like he wasn’t nervous at all. But the second your mouth hovered close to his, his breath hitched. “I missed you,” you whispered, your lips brushing his like a secret. His answer was a low, broken sound, more breath than voice, and then he kissed you. Not rushed, not greedy, just deep and full, like he needed you to feel it in your bones.

And you did. Every nerve sparked to life as his hands slid down your waist, then lower, pulling you flush against him, warmth lingered in every breath between you. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet urgency, like he wanted everything but was still letting you set the pace, still holding back just enough for you to decide where this went. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, giving the slightest tug, and that was all it took to unravel the last thread of his restraint. He pressed you gently but firmly back against the cool tile, his mouth trailing from yours to your jaw, then lower, down the line of your neck to your collarbone, each kiss a spark catching fire under your skin. The soft sounds he drew from you only fed his hunger, made his hands grip tighter, made his mouth linger longer.

“I’ve wanted this all night,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick and unsteady. You couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. But you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your chest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. The steam wrapped around you both like a second skin, heat clinging to every inch of bare flesh, blurring everything but the way his hands held you, the way his lips found you again and again. 

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, eyes searching. “Still okay?” he whispered. And though your breath came quick, your answer was steady. “Yes” you said, voice barely above a breath. “I want you.” That was all it took. His hand trailed down your side, deliberate, slow, until it curled under your thigh and hitched it up around his hip. The shift brought you even closer, chest to chest, heat pressed tight, slick and flushed and needy. You gasped softly, one arm winding around his neck, holding on as his hips rolled once testing, teasing.

The thick, wet slide of him between your thighs made your head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud. He groaned, the sound low and wrecked, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rocked against you again. “I can’t wait anymore,” he muttered, voice rough with restraint. “Please, mi amor… I need to be inside you.” You whimpered at the way he said it, all breath and ache, all please, like you were the only thing he needed in the world. And maybe you were. Right now, it felt like it. You guided him with trembling fingers, breath catching when the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. He paused, just for a second, just to look at you, and when you nodded again, he pushed in slowly, carefully, stretching you open inch by inch until you were full.

Until there was no space left between you, you clung to him as a moan slipped past your lips, and he gritted his teeth, trying to stay still, to give you time. But you couldn’t stop the roll of your hips. Couldn’t stop the way your body welcomed him, tight and hot around him, already fluttering. “You feel so good,” he breathed, voice almost a whisper. “Fuck… you’re perfect.”

He started to move then, slow, grinding thrusts that made you feel every single inch of him. He didn’t rush, didn’t slam into you. He devoured. Kissed your shoulder, sucked gently at the curve of your neck. His hand cupped your ass, adjusting your angle so he could hit deeper, better. And when he found that spot, your head fell forward against his chest with a strangled gasp. “Right there?” he asked, already doing it again. You nodded against his skin, unable to speak, legs shaking from the pressure building inside you. He was so deep, so thick, the stretch so overwhelming, every grind of his hips sending sparks up your spine. “I missed you,” you breathed, voice catching on the edge of a moan. He pressed closer, whispering into your hair, “Say it.” Your breath hitched. “I needed you.”

“Yeah?” he groaned, fucking you a little harder now, water slapping faintly against your skin. “You gonna come for me, baby?” Your answer was the arch of your back, the way your fingers dug into his shoulders, the whimper that spilled from your lips as the wave crested inside you. He felt it, the way you clenched around him, fluttering, gasping, coming hard and fast, eyes squeezed shut as it all rushed through you. He didn’t last much longer. Your walls still pulsing around him, your legs shaking, the sound of your moans echoing off the tiles, it was too much. He gripped your hips with both hands, pulling you tighter, hips stuttering as he spilled into you with a deep, guttural groan, forehead pressed to yours as he breathed through it.

Silence settled again, just the hiss of the water and the crash of your breathing, tangled together, still holding on. Pedri didn’t let you go. Even after he softened, even after his breathing slowed. His arms were around you, lips brushing your wet temple, whispering things you could barely catch. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.  You looked up, and he kissed you again, slow and sweet. No urgency now. Just warmth. Intimacy. The kind that lingered longer than any match, any press conference, any moment out there on the pitch. “Still scared?” he murmured, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You just laughed softly and rolled your eyes at him, still breathless. 

[camille-plumb]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆|| ʙʟᴜᴇʟᴏᴄᴋᵒⁿᵉ ˢʰᵒᵗˢ

Nagi Seishiro x female reader

Title: •❈•❉•❊•₪₪���🐇✨𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐘✨🐇🎮₪₪•❃•❅•❆•

Song: Dolls by Bella Poarch

Warning: smut.🔞

Tags: Request, bunny clotles, plug, seduction

••••••••⇆ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ㅤ ▷↻••••••••

Okay, now or never...

<<Reddit discussion: "My boyfriend doesn't pay attention to me. Ever since we met, he loves to play video games all the time, and I'm fine with that. The problem is that he's a streamer now and only goes out to eat. I'm on vacation and I want to spend more time with him. I try to kiss him and caress him, but it still doesn't work. He keeps staring at his damn screen. He just says, 'Dude, are you bored of me?' Should I expect the worst? Is he going to break up with me? Girls in a similar situation... help..."

(Y/N) frantically moved her fingers, typing on Reddit's discussion forums. She didn't know what to do anymore. This situation was driving her crazy. She posted on several forums hoping to at least find an answer in one of them.

When she finished, she slumped in her seat, waiting for an answer. But how did she end up in this situation? Well, it was a simple answer: she had a lazy boyfriend. Ever since they started dating, she didn't care that he didn't want to do anything at home; in fact, it was the best thing for her.

She loved to do everything her way, the decoration, the food, absolutely everything, in the past her old relationships ended because of that detail, they told her she was excessively controlling and that no one would stand her, and just when she thought she would be alone, that's when she met her beloved boyfriend, a 1.90 white-haired man who reminded her of a soft and fluffy sheep, she met him in a cafeteria, apparently he was lost or his friends left him, he only had his phone in his hand. and a carefree attitude that caught her attention and made her feel tenderness, when talking to him she realized that he was lazy enough to ask for help or directions, that's why he had been in that cafeteria for a long time, from the moment she helped him he was trapped in her heart and she couldn't get out of it, even more so when the white-haired man accepted everything she wanted, it was always a yes to everything no matter what it was, the only thing he asked for a change was to be served and play video games.

She loved the idea from the beginning of their relationship. She loved serving him, preparing his favorite dishes to see his satisfied face when he tasted them. Every moment they shared together was always accompanied by caresses and kisses.

Oh, and sex…

The white-haired man liked to bury his face in her tits while playing their games. He used to say they were very soft pillows and that they were his favorites. Sometimes he would casually suck on her nipples during their games. When they were together, he always kept her warm; he was her downfall. After long stimulation sessions, the day would end with her riding him hard in the room they shared.

Everything was perfect until she changed jobs and couldn't be home all day anymore. Now they only saw each other at night. Although at first the routine seemed the same, it gradually began to break down. The time they saw each other grew shorter and shorter, and when she tried to invade his space in the playroom they had at home, he completely ignored her. She heard his soft laugh in the hallway, the laugh he dedicated to his viewers during his live streams.

The laughter of his fans sickened her.

Her heart pounded with worry every time she felt the distance grow greater, and that's how she ended up on Reddit, on the discussion forums.

If she was lucky, she might find an answer, she thought, putting down her phone to take a shower. When she finished showering, she saw she had some notifications, unlocked her phone, and began reading the replies to her forum.

—"Oh wow, being ignored is ugly. If I were you, I'd break up with that idiot." 👊

— "Something similar happened to me. They did that to me before we ended our relationship 😞"

The first comments were discouraging. (Y/N) lost hope with each comment until two comments caught her attention.

—"I had a streamer boyfriend. I gave him a blowjob during a live stream, and he never ignored me again ☝️, cheers, honey~"

—"A bunny suit can save you🐇🔥"

The idea in the last comment and the message from the previous one gave her a fantastic idea. She just needed to go out and buy a few things.

She arrived home at night and, as usual, everything was dark except for her boyfriend's playroom. Usually, that situation would drive her crazy, but now she had a plan.

After getting everything ready, she went to the room with colorful lights at the end of the hallway. Upon entering, she saw her boyfriend's tall figure; he looked as handsome as ever.

She saw him move his head when he heard the noise she made when she entered, but he didn't turn around or pay attention to her like he had been doing lately. His indifferent attitude annoyed her and made her put her plan into action.

The webcam showing her boyfriend's face focused on the white wall with LED lights, which together served as a background for her streams.

(Y/N) was wearing the white-haired man's oversized white T-shirt; it was her favorite. She positioned herself at a perfect angle so the camera could focus on her. Her boyfriend remained oblivious, his attention on his game screen.

(Y/N) played the song "Dolls" by Bella Poarch, the sound filling the room as she began to take off her shirt, following the rhythm.

Cute, think I'm polite, stereotype, got your full attention

She moved her body calmly, enjoying the scent of her boyfriend impregnated on the shirt. She lifted the garment completely, taking it off. A sensual bunny lingerie appeared in front of the stream viewers' screens.

Think that you can play with me, you better watch your back

As she placed the white ears on her head, still with her eyes closed and moving to the rhythm of the music.

She realized that everything was silent.

Fuck, nothing prepared her for what was coming next.

"Ah….a….h~….Nagi ahhh~" she let out a loud moan as she felt her opponent's hard thrust. The sound of bodies colliding violently filled the room, only gasps and moans of pleasure could be heard.

"Couldn't you stay still, you spoiled little bunny?" The white-haired man's fingers dug tightly into her hips. "You had to show everyone who's mine." A spank on her white ass accompanied each movement. "Great, now I'll have to delete my account and create another, what a pain." He moved his hips faster as he felt her wet walls squeeze him tightly.

"Now you have my full attention…bunny," he bit her earlobe while, amid short, hard thrusts, he spilled his sperm, wetting her legs.

"All this time I tried to hold back with you," the white-haired man murmurs, still buried inside her, placing soft kisses on her back. "I thought my considerate and adorable girlfriend must be tired of dealing with a pain like me." Nagi's words echo in her chest. He wasn't ignoring her because he didn't love her; he was just trying to cope with his new routine.

"But you blew all my effort to hell, bunny." A resounding slap ended the reflection she was making in her mind. "Now I'm not going to share you with anyone, not even with your damn job. Why do we have so much money if I have to share you with the world?" She could feel the seriousness of her boyfriend's words. She knew his eyes shone with confidence and passion.

"You have a bunny suit, don't you?" he asks in a deep growl filled with desire. "I could see from my screen how you were waggling your white tail for me, inviting me to make you mine. Since we're animals now, I'll have to complete your heat cycle until I'm full of my babies."

Oh god, yes~

He moved the butt plug he had as a tail, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her and marking the start of a second round.

He still had something unfinished business…

"Thanks to all of you for your advice. I was able to save my relationship, and now I have my boyfriend's attention every day… remember, if you're in a situation like mine, A bunny suit can save you🐇🔥"

Reddit discussion closed, replies no longer accepted.

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[posh--bee]

beneath the sleeping stars || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → On the way home from yet another case on the jet, you and your boyfriend Spencer take advantage of your peacefully sleeping coworkers to have a little bit of sweet and innocent alone time, taking chances and talking about both of you getting hurt during the case.

warnings → early seasons!spencer, shy!reader, bau!reader, established relationship but it’s all very new still, they’re just little anxious beans, just pure tooth-rotting fluff, they’re so adorable your honor, minor injuries, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → This whole thing was inspired by this post from @multifandomangel. I started writing this story immediately after I saw the post but it took me a while to come back around to it and finish it. But now it’s done and I’m very happy with how cute and fluffy it turned out :3 Let me know what you think about it <3

word count → 3.2k

This is a repost. I deleted the original post because tumblr was being difficult and marked it as needing a content label and took forever to revise it. I hope this one won't have the same problem. Thanks to all the lovely people who read, reblogged and liked the original post anyway <3

masterlist(s)

You sit next to Spencer on what the team has dubbed “his” couch on the BAU’s jet, currently on the way home to the FBI’s headquarters after having solved yet another case on the other side of the country, absentmindedly staring at the book in your hands you act like you’re reading.

The words on the page you haven’t turned in over five minutes stare back at you unblinkingly, but you pay them no mind, instead peeking over the edge of your book to inconspicuously observe the rest of your teammates relaxing in their seats. Hotch is at the front of the jet in a single seat with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed while Morgan, Emily and JJ sit around the table across from you. JJ’s head rests on Emily’s shoulder who in turn has her cheek squished to the top of the blonde’s hair, soft breaths leaving her parted lips. Morgan on the other hand rests against a pillow pressed to the wall of the jet, his headphones still on and Rossi, who sits behind him, has his legs stretched out over two seats with his eyes closed as well.

It's perfectly quiet on the jet except for the subtle hum of the aircraft’s engines paired with what little you can hear of Morgan’s music and the occasional soft snore coming from one or another person sitting around you.

With bated breath you wait for another minute or two to be absolutely certain about what you’re eagerly hoping for—

They’re all fast asleep.

A smile tugs at your lips and you slowly close your book and let it glide to the floor soundlessly before gently nudging Spencer’s leg with your foot.

The lanky genius next to you stirs and you immediately feel bad for rousing him from his slumber so rudely, but the feeling abruptly dissipates and is replaced by a flutter of butterfly wings in your belly when he gives you a sleepy smile, one hand coming up to rub his tired eyes.

“Hi,” he greets you quietly, his voice a little deeper than it normally is and it embarrassingly takes you a second to answer him.

“Hi yourself,” you manage, matching his soft tone to not disturb the quiet of the jet as it takes you closer to your home through the night sky.

You smile at each other shyly, starting a new round of your regular game of Who will break eye contact first? that you both lose at the same time. An amused huff escapes you at your own antics and you look back to Spencer who is already grinning at you, his cheeks glowing with an adorable blush even in the dimmed lights of the cabin.

He’s so beautiful, you think, and you want to tell him as much, but the words get stuck in your throat like you already knew they would.

Instead you ask him, “How’s your head?”

Your eyes dart to the white butterfly stitch on his temple that a paramedic has competently placed there only a few hours before because of the scuffle your recent unsub had caused before his eventual arrest.

Spencer shrugs but the smile on his lips gets a little brighter, his fingers shy of touching his wound before lowering his hand and placing it on the down on the couch, right next to where your own hand is resting on the cushion.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he tells you, his hand inching closer to yours. “It’s just a small wound, don’t worry.”

“That's good. I’m glad.”

You watch his pinky reaching out for yours and with your heart beating excitedly in your chest you meet him halfway, your fingers sweetly wrapping around each other. Your cheeks burn from the innocent touch while Spencer quietly clears his throat, trying to hide the lovestruck grin on his lips but failing adorably at it—much like yourself, you imagine.

“What about your finger?” he wants to know then and you look down to your other hand resting in your lap, one finger taped to the one beside to keep it still and in a natural position while healing, also a courtesy of the unsub’s messy arrest.

“All good,” you tell him truthfully, after carefully testing your hand’s remaining mobility. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. And luckily, it’s not even my dominant hand.”

Spencer, of course, already knows this but nods in understanding anyway.

“I’m glad,” he repeats back at you and the look in his brown eyes is nothing short of adoring. You have the urge to hide from his gaze, it’s that overwhelming, and eventually you need to avert your eyes to regain even a semblance of composure before you can face him again.

He gives your pinky a quick squeeze when you do and you feel the smile on your face grow even bigger. You let yourself sink further into the comfortable cushions of the couch then, enjoying the quiet and content atmosphere of the jet, the rare opportunity of being close to Spencer like this, openly showing affection like this, as small as it may seem, when the two of you are at work, all thanks to your softly snoring colleagues.

But you can’t fully relax, even though the exhaustion of the case is rapidly catching up with you, making your limbs feel heavy and your movements slow and sluggish. Right underneath your tiredness is an undercurrent feeling of nervousness and excitement that you can’t ignore, that keeps reminding you that you woke Spencer up for something more than a few whispered words between the two of you and pinkie-holding.

Slowly, you straighten up again, squaring your shoulders and ready to seize this opportunity the rest of the BAU agents have so graciously presented you with. Your heart instantly picks up speed and you pause for a moment, mentally hyping yourself up to just ask your literal boyfriend this simple question, but the tiny bit of confidence you could scrape together instantly evaporates the moment your eyes meet his.

“Do you maybe—want to lie down, Spence?” you ask quietly, your heart in your throat making it difficult to form the words around. “It’s probably more—more comfortable than sitting the whole flight...”

Your voice trails off at the end and you mentally scold yourself for it, having gone over your words a hundred times in your head before you even woke Spencer up but still you couldn’t get it right when it mattered. Spencer just looks at you for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes showing nothing but kindness and you try your hardest not to let your disappointment show at his easy rejection, your ears burning in embarrassment.

“I’m comfortable like this, don’t worry.” He gives your pinky another squeeze that you can’t quite appreciate at the moment, but nod to show that you’re listening. You’re always listening to him. “I like being next to you like this and anyway, we will land in about an hour and eight minutes. So you really don’t have to get up from the couch for my sake.”

When you don’t answer him after his words hung in the space between you for a few moments too long, his shoulders tense and his face falls just enough for you to notice, a tight-lipped smile replacing the soft and relaxed one from just seconds ago.

“That’s okay… right?”

He sounds heartbreakingly unsure of himself now, afraid to have somehow said the wrong thing and ruin this moment between the two of you and you pull yourself together to quickly reassure him, your heart rate spiking in alarm.

“Of course that’s okay Spence! Absolutely okay! I like being next to you like this as well.”

Your voice is a little too loud and too shrill in your need to rectify your words so you force yourself to take a deep breath, not wanting to wake up your peacefully sleeping colleagues by any means.

“It’s just not what I meant,” you continue, your voice softening. You give him an encouraging smile and don’t shy away from the intense eye contact when Spencer cautiously searches your face, honest and unguarded. He finds the reassurance he’s looking for there and after a few short moments he relaxes again, a hesitant smile pulling at his lips.

“What did you mean then?”

Your gaze falls to the worn sneakers on your feet at his question and your thumb begins to absentmindedly fiddle with medical tape on your injured hand, fighting against an overwhelming wave of anxiety that crashes into you but after a few calming deep breaths you force your way through it.

“Because the others are all asleep, I thought—I meant that you could lie down, with your head… on my lap, if you want to.”

Now that the words are out in the open your idea doesn’t sound as brilliant and cute as it was in your head—actually, it sounds absolutely stupid, and oh no, why would you say something like that?!

You fight the urge to just jump up and run for the plane’s toilet to hide in there until you have landed safely at Quantico and instead risk a glance at Spencer out of the corner of your eye, your heart jackhammering away in your chest.

Spencer stares at you with such an adorably befuddled expression that would have soothed your anxiety all at once any other time, but now it just makes you curl into yourself even more, almost missing how the blush on his cheeks gets deeper in real time, spreading to his ears and even his neck.

“Or don’t!” you immediately backpedal, mortified and panicking, mentally screaming at yourself for ever thinking this would be a good idea. “You absolutely don’t have to! I just thought—”

“No, I’d like to!” Spencer suddenly squeaks, effectively cutting you off. The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds following his words, neither of you knowing what to do now that your little misunderstanding is resolved.

“Okay. Good,” you eventually say just to have something to fill the stubborn silence that settled between the two of you. “That’s—yeah.”

You clear your throat and press your lips together as your brain is apparently having difficulties providing your mouth with something resembling full sentences and give Spencer a tight smile before reluctantly letting go of his pinkie. You move closer to the armrest by your side to give him enough room to lie down at least somewhat comfortably, and after it’s clear that you are both at a loss for what to do again, you awkwardly pat your thighs, hoping that it’s enough encouragement for Spencer.

He looks at you with comical deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes but after taking a deep and seemingly calming breath he starts to lie down hesitantly. It takes the two of you a few uncoordinated and clumsy moments to sort yourselves out on the small couch, but eventually, between whispered apologies and pointedly avoiding each other’s eyes, you manage.

Now you stiffly sit on the jet’s couch with Spencer’s head resting lightly on your thighs like he is afraid of putting too much of his weight on you, while he is taking up the rest of the space, his back facing the cabin and your still slumbering teammates. He is also far from relaxed, you can feel how tense his whole body is and you notice that his eyes are shut tightly too when you glance down at him.

Despite dating for a few months already and being best friends before that the awkwardness and tentativeness between you and Spencer persists stubbornly. Unfortunately—sometimes frustratingly—that’s neither surprising nor unusual. Both you and Spencer are naturally shy and introverted, anxious even, and not at all confident in your social skills and interpersonal relationships. The fact that neither of you was in a serious relationship before and is more than a little inexperienced when it comes to intimacy doesn’t really help either. You can easily count on your own ten fingers how often you actually held Spencer’s hand, much less cuddled with him or kissed him. You want to be closer to him, at least in the privacy of your home or away from prying eyes (most likely belonging to nosy but well-meaning coworkers), want to create and share special memories and him, and you know that Spencer feels the same way. The two of you just need more time to get comfortable and confident with this new chapter of your relationship. But that’s okay, you know that. Eventually, you will get there, at a pace you both are comfortable with.

But until then you’ll have to deal with your heart almost beating out of your chest while Spencer is trying to relax on your lap, a dizzying mix of happiness and anxiety and every emotion in between swirling in your chest. It makes your hands shake and hard to focus on anything else than the euphoric but frightening feeling of having your boyfriend—somewhat comfortably—cuddling up to you. You still feel a little silly about how clumsy you asked him for this but you were rewarded for your uncharacteristic bravery by the comforting weight of Spencer leaning against you, his warmth seeping into your skin, a pleasant and blissful shiver running down your spine.

You love Spencer, it’s the only thing on your mind when you look down to him lying on your lap, and surprisingly the thought doesn’t terrify you. It’s the easiest truth you ever accepted and the sense of calmness that follows has everything to do with the fact that you’re in a relationship with someone as kind and considerate as Spencer.

But you won’t be able to admit this to him anytime soon, you know that, so instead you say something easier, something lighter, but equally as true.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Spence. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

He blinks up at you when your whispered words register in his mind, his brown eyes impossible soft, impossible adoring. You let the gentle caress of butterfly wings fluttering in your chest and belly wash over you, your world narrowing down to this moment between Spencer and you. Everything else vanished into the background, the jet, the team, even your anxious and overthinking mind quieting enough for you to be completely present in this precious moment with your favorite person in the world.

As if moving on its own your hand finds its way into Spencer’s hair, fingers carefully, experimentally carding through his silky curls that you’re delighted to find are exactly as soft as you always thought they were.

Spencer jumps at the unexpected touch but not even a second later he’s completely relaxed against you, looking like an extremely content and comically overgrown cat, happily purring in your lap.

With a sigh, his eyes fall closed in pure bliss, murmuring into the comfortable and peaceful quietness between you, “This feels nice.”

“I’m glad,” you answer in a whisper, dutifully continuing with your ministrations, burning this moment into your mind, forever.

Without opening his eyes Spencer goes on, your name on his lips, “I was really scared for a moment during the arrest. When the unsub lashed out at you, I think my heart almost stopped in my chest.”

With a sympathetic smile and nod that Spencer can’t see you bring your hand to his face, caressing his warm and soft cheek with one only slightly shaking finger.

“I know what you mean. I felt the same when you came to help me and the unsub hit you,” you admit, the shameful guilt welling up inside you leaving a bitter taste on your tongue all of a sudden. Because that’s how Spencer got hurt, rushing to your side to assist you.

But before you can even begin to spiral, Spencer’s eyes fly open, his gaze fierce when you lock downcast eyes with him.

“It wasn’t your fault, please don’t think that. I’m always going to look out for you, you know that, right? You’re important to me.”

His voice is firm, insistent, leaving no room for arguments, no room for doubts or guilt. A shaky exhale pushes past your lips and you give him a grateful smile, having no choice but to believe his words. Not when he’s looking at you with complete and utter conviction, not letting your mind torment you for even a second because of what happened during the arrest.

“Of course I know that, Spence,” you assure him, cupping his jaw. “And I hope you know that I’ll always come to your rescue too.”

His face softens immediately, subconsciously nuzzling into your hand, his lips unintentionally brushing against your palm when he says, “I do.”

Your breathing hitches noticeably at the faint touch and Spencer himself turns to stone on top of you, his large, panicked eyes darting over your face. He’s just about to launch into a distressed apology that is really not necessary when you lean down to stop him by pressing a featherlight kiss to his temple, just shy of his wound.

You surprise yourself with your action and now can do nothing but stare helplessly down at your boyfriend who only mirrors your expression back at you, his cheeks turning cherry red in an instant. But before you can now stumble your way through an apology, Spencer takes your injured hand in his without meeting your eyes and brings it to his lips, softly kissing the tips of your fingers.

He quickly hides his face in your stomach after letting go of your hand, leaving you perplexed and speechless, the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks burning. And just like that neither of you is able to speak up or look at the other again, both of you left to battle with their own bashfulness for the rest of the flight.

It’s probably for the best that in your painfully adorable awkwardness, you and Spencer fail to notice how your supposedly sleeping teammates are in fact very much not asleep at the moment, shamelessly enjoying their favorite workplace romance unfolding before them live and in color, their reactions to it varying from person to person.

JJ hides her tickled grin in the crook of Emily’s neck who in turn has to fight hard for her composure as to not reveal all of their sneaky nosiness, her whole body shaking with the effort of it. Morgan groans fondly, the noise muffled by his pillow, wondering if his eardrums will survive Garcia’s screeching when he tells her about how sickly adorable Spencer and you acted on the flight back to Quantico. Rossi on the other hand rolls his eyes hard enough to see the back of his own skull but the smile on his lips betrays him, muttering an amused “amore giovane” under his breath.

And even Hotch has an almost noticeable proud smile on his face—but Spencer and you still won’t get around the little talk your supervisor has planned for you about your relationship next thing tomorrow morning.

But all of this is lost on you and Spencer, tucked away in your own little world of adorably awkward puppy love which is for the best. Because neither of you would be able to handle the embarrassment from the realization that you weren’t as unobserved as you thought you were.

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Feel free to hop into my inbox and talk to me ✨

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[sweetdispatch]

its my first time requesting so idk if im doing it right but may i please get, 1 piece of Cinnamon Bun with Honey and Marshmallows 🥰

Retrospections - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: Memories of moments between you and Luke, from helping in school to his first NHL game warning: none note: thank you love for requesting, hope you enjoy it❤️

You and Luke were growing up on the same street. Often, you were playing with him and his brothers since the four of you were the only kids there. But the closest you had been with Luke because you were the same age. You always had a soft spot for him and he had for you. His brothers were laughing at the two of you but you never cared.

In school, you were helping Luke with his homework. He didn’t like studying because his head was always wrapped around hockey. That’s why you tried your best to help him even when it meant that you’ll be behind with the material. 

“This is stupid. I don’t need this in my life” Luke scoffed when he got a wrong result in math exercise. 

“I know but you need this for the exam” You sighed. 

“Why? I’m gonna be a hockey player. I don’t need math” Luke said, offended. 

“But you can’t fail this class if you want to be a hockey player. Please do this for me and put more attention to remembering. I can stay here the whole night if it means that you’ll finally understand” You told him and gave him a small smile. 

“Fine” Luke groaned and started listening to you over and over again, trying to understand.

By pure coincidence, you and Luke got accepted to the same university. You were excited but also knew that you needed to open up for new people. He couldn’t be around you all the time like in the past because he put his focus on hockey and representing the team. Thankfully for you, the people you had in your classes were nice and quickly you became friends with them. 

You weren’t spending that much time with Luke like you used to but you were always showing up in his games. You loved seeing him on the ice. It was a way different version of him. You knew him as a sweet and shy guy but out there he was ruthless and confident. You could clearly remember the first game in Michigan.

“You did it Luke” You jumped into his arms. 

“I did it” Luke hugged you.

“I’m so proud of you. You were amazing out there” You told him. 

“Thank you. Thank you for showing up and being there” Luke said to you. 

“I couldn’t miss your debut” You giggled.

“I have something for you” Luke said and gave you a puck. “It’s my puck for the first game played there but I want you to have it” 

“I can’t take it. It’s your achievement and not mine” You told him with cheeks burning red. 

“It’s our achievement. If you wouldn’t help me with my homework back then, I wouldn’t be here. Please take it” Luke begged you. You took the puck from his hands and hugged him.

The puck was laying on your nightstand. You were always smiling at the memory of this. During university, you’ve been going to a lot of parties with Luke but one party was stuck with you. His team was celebrating the end of the season and rookies were responsible for hosting it. 

“Thanks for the help with the party” Luke told you and took a sip of a beer. 

“Anytime” You smiled at him. 

“You’re too good for me. I swear, you’re the best thing that happened to me” You felt your heart racing faster when Luke said it. 

“That’s what friends are for right?” You joked and saw that Luke’ expression changed. 

“I don’t wanna be friends with you” Before you could process Luke's words, he pulled you into a kiss. “I want you as my girlfriend” He said when he pulled away from you.

You didn’t say anything back, just kissed him again. 

After that party, you and Luke started dating. He felt proud to call you his girlfriend and in every opportunity, he needed to mention this. Everyone around you knew that you were gonna end up as a couple. You were a perfect match to each other. You could swear that he’s the best guy to be in a relationship with. 

When Luke had his debut game in the NHL, you went to see him. You wanted to witness this. Tears were spilling from your eyes when you were watching his rookie lap. You couldn’t believe that he actually made it. Luke was aware that you were in this game and right after the final whistle, he ran to see you. 

“You made it” You told him with tears in your eyes. 

“I love you” Luke hugged you tightly. He didn’t care that you’ll leave mascara stamps on his jersey and you didn’t care that he’s all sweaty. 

“I got something for you” Luke handed you a puck. “I’ve been seeing the puck from my first game in Michigan on your nightstand and this reminded me of you. I want you to have this one too” 

“Thank you baby” You kissed him but Jack broke the moment between you two. 

“Luke, let's go. You can kiss her later all you want” Jack said and you and Luke looked at each other and laughed. 

After graduation, you moved to New Jersey to live with Luke. Everything was perfect between the two of you and you were stronger than ever. Luke was fulfilling in hockey and you were working in your dream work. You never missed his game and he was always there for you in tough moments. Life was perfect with Luke by your side.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

Dummy

Synopsis: Y/N, a small-time streamer, has always dreamed of becoming famous, streaming to just 10-15 viewers. One day, their favorite streamer, Karina (aka KatarinaBluu), starts watching and interacting in the chat, eventually building a connection. As their friendship deepens, Karina confesses that Y/N has been her comfort streamer, and their bond turns into something more. The two grow closer, with Y/N eventually joining Karina's streams, nervously taking his first steps into the spotlight. Together, they navigate their blossoming relationship, becoming a team both on and off the stream.

Word Count: 2,404.

Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of becoming a famous streamer. You worked hard—posting videos, streaming for hours on end—but life wasn’t always kind. Still, as you grew older, so did your determination. You kept streaming, often for even longer hours, though your audience never grew much—just about 10 to 15 viewers in total.

But it wasn’t really about the numbers. You streamed because it made you happy. It made you feel productive, like you were chasing the dream you’d held onto since childhood. And even if it was just 10 to 15 people watching, having the privilege to share your world with them was enough.

Of course, you had your fair share of favorite streamers. But one of your all-time favorites—if not the favorite—was a streamer named KatarinaBluu, or just Karina. She was a mix of everything: a gamer, lifestyle creator, and vlogger, with a following that skyrocketed to over 7 million in just three years. She wasn’t just popular—she was one of the biggest streamers today.

You’d wake up at 10 a.m. and stream until 10 p.m., grinding through hours of content, mostly RPGs—your favorite genre. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was your dream, and you lived it every day.

The thing is… your favorite streamer was watching you almost every time you went live.

You were in the middle of a Souls game, on your last sliver of health, about to beat a tough boss. One more hit and it would've been yours—but you failed. By a pixel.

Then you heard the notification sound.

A message popped up in chat.

CatrinaBlue: "Aww, nice try! You’ll get him this time!"

You stared at the message, a little stunned before breaking into a smile. It was always nice knowing people were actually watching—even better when it was her.

"Thanks, KatarinaBluu. I’ll get him this time—for you!"

You went in again, more focused than ever, and this time… you won.

You let out a cheer, leaning back with both relief and pride.

CatrinaBlue: "Good job! You deserved it."

[CatrinaBlue donated $5.00]

"Yoo! Thank you, Catarinablue, for the $5! You didn’t have to, you know?" You said, grinning ear to ear. It felt surreal, like this was your moment—your break. As time passed, the games kept coming and going, but there she was. "CatarinaBluu"—always in the chat.

Sometimes, you’d get 3 or 5 viewers, but most of the time, it was just her. Just CatarinaBluu, talking with you, engaging with you, and forming this unique connection between you both.

"Hi, Catarinablue! Welcome back! I’m playing another Souls game, and look—I made my name similar to yours." You typed with excitement.

She replied almost immediately in chat:

"Wow, you didn’t have to! But thanks! Are you planning to finish it today? If so, good luck!"

You grinned, fingers hovering over the keys.

"I’m planning to! Why? Will you stick around until the end of the game?"

Her response came quickly:

"Mhm, yes."

Time passed by, and eventually, you and Catarinablue started having more personal conversations—talking about how your day was going, what your plans for the future were, and sometimes just sharing random thoughts. One day, you even asked her if her name was inspired by KatarinaBlue, the famous streamer you admired. She chuckled at the question and told you it was just a coincidence.

"Funny thing," she typed one night. "I actually get asked that a lot. But nah, I just liked the name. It’s not inspired by anyone."

You laughed, relieved that it wasn’t some weird coincidence. The two of you started to get even closer, talking about your hopes, your struggles, and what it meant to chase dreams.

"Hey, Y/N," she texted one night, "What are you planning to do in the next five years?"

"I want to get better at streaming, keep growing, you know? Maybe even hit the big leagues someday."

"I believe in you. You’re gonna get there."

"Thanks, Catarinablue. You’ve been such a huge support."

"No problem. You’re doing the hard work. I’m just here cheering you on."

The conversations grew more frequent, and the connection between you two deepened. Eventually, you exchanged phone numbers, which felt like a huge step. Your small circle of viewers, mostly just her, was growing into something much more meaningful.

But then, one day, it all changed.

You defeated the final boss of your playthrough, heart pounding as the screen flashed with victory. You leaned back, exhaling a sigh of relief, and looked at your chat, eagerly waiting for Catarinablue to send her usual encouraging message.

But what you saw instead made your world freeze.

A verified username—KatarinaBluu—appeared in your chat, sending a simple message:

"Congrats, Y/N! I knew you’d do it!"

What? KatarinaBluu? In your chat? Knowing your name? Huh? How? What? Why? Your mind went into overdrive, a million questions swirling through your head. Was this a prank? Was it real?

On the other end, Karina—KatarinaBluu—was having a full-on panic attack. She hadn’t meant to message you from her main account. She’d been caught up in the moment, and now her personal account was connected to your stream. Her heart was racing as she watched your stream explode with activity.

Your viewer count, which had been around 5, jumped up to 45K active viewers in seconds. The chat went wild:

"Who is this?"

"Why is Karina messaging this guy?"

"Isn’t that THE Karina?"

"Is she collabing with him?"

"Wait, how does he know her?"

You stared at the chat, overwhelmed, but it was the message from Catarinablue that snapped you back to reality.

A private message popped up on your phone.

Catarinablue:

"Hey, Y/N. I know this is crazy, but it’s me—Karina. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted to congratulate you, but now everything’s a mess. I didn’t expect my personal account to pop up. Please don’t freak out, okay?"

You blinked, sitting back in your chair, staring at the message. Karina. THE Karina, the one you admired, had just messaged you. Your fingers hovered over the keys, unsure how to respond, the magnitude of it all sinking in.

You sat there in shock, your hands shaking as you read her message again. Karina. The Karina. KatarinaBluu. She wasn’t just some random viewer anymore. She had been following you, supporting you from the very beginning.

You clicked on her message, still unsure how to process everything that was happening, but then another message popped up from her.

"I know this is a lot, but I want to be honest with you. The truth is... I’ve been watching your streams for a while now. And I didn’t just watch because I thought you were entertaining, though you are. It’s because you’ve been my favorite comfort streamer."

Your heart skipped a beat. You read it again, slowly this time. Was this real? Was Karina really saying that? The person you had admired for so long, the one you’d always looked up to, was telling you that you were her comfort streamer?

"I’ve had a lot of tough days, and your streams... they’ve always been there for me. I loved how you kept pushing forward no matter what. I felt like I wasn’t alone when I tuned in to watch you, especially when everything around me felt like chaos. So... I guess I’ve been cheering for you longer than you know."

Your mind was racing, your fingers trembling as you typed your response.

"Wait, what? Really?"

Her reply came almost immediately.

"Yeah. Really. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re still doing this, even when it feels like no one’s watching. I just... I just wanted you to know that I see you. And I care."

You sat there in stunned silence, the weight of her words sinking in. Karina, the one who had been your idol for so long, was telling you that you were important to her. That your streams—your journey—had helped her when she needed it the most.

You looked at the chat, now flooded with a mix of excitement and confusion from the 45K viewers. But the only thing that mattered to you at that moment was the private conversation between you and Karina.

"I... I had no idea, Karina. I just wanted to make people smile. And now, here you are, saying that... I don’t even know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything. Just... keep doing what you’re doing. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be."

At that moment, everything felt different. The nervousness from the sudden surge of viewers was still there, but it didn’t matter anymore. You realized that, even if this moment was overwhelming, it was also the beginning of something new.

Things had changed in the best way possible. What started as a random stream chat between two people turned into something much more. You weren’t just her fellow streamer now; you were her constant companion—on screen and off.

A couple of months later!

Things had grown naturally between you and Karina. What started out as late-night gaming sessions and private chats turned into something deeper. She had become more than just a favorite streamer to you. Now, she was your girlfriend, and you were becoming a part of her world in a way you never thought possible. But today was different.

Today, you were finally going to join her on stream. It wasn’t anything big—just sitting with her during a casual playthrough. But for you, it felt like a big step. You were nervous, even though she reassured you a hundred times that it was okay.

“Alright, chat,” Karina said with a grin, adjusting her camera. “We’ve got a special guest today. Guess who it is.”

She glanced over at you, sitting just off-camera, already looking a little too shy for comfort. “Come on, don’t be shy. You’re gonna do great.”

You were just sitting there, practically invisible behind her, fiddling with your fingers. “U-um, hey, chat,” you said quietly, voice soft, unsure of how to act. It was your first time on her stream, and you weren’t used to the attention. You could feel your heart race as your name popped up in the chat.

“Y/N? Wait, is that really Y/N? OMG.”

“He’s here!!! I can't believe it!!”

The words flowed faster than you could process them. It was overwhelming but also flattering.

“Hey, Y/N,” Karina said, her voice playful yet encouraging, as she nudged you gently. “Say hi to everyone. They’re all really excited to see you.”

You smiled awkwardly, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of attention, but you managed to wave at the camera. “Hi, uh… I’m Y/N. I don’t really stream anymore, so... yeah.”

The chat exploded.

“OMG, he’s adorable.”

“Y/N is shy, this is too cute.”

“Karina, you’re breaking the internet!”

Karina laughed softly, catching your nervousness. She reached out, resting a hand on your arm, her voice low so only you could hear. “You’re doing great. Just be yourself. They’re gonna love you.”

You nodded, trying to relax, but it was hard with so many eyes on you. Karina’s stream had a massive following. At the moment, you were just another part of the show. You had to get used to it, but it felt like a lot all at once.

She kept playing, and you just sat beside her, watching her play through the game. The comments kept coming in, and the pressure didn’t ease up. “I’ll let Y/N play in a bit, chat!” Karina teased, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. “He’s just shy right now, but he’s gonna be awesome when he gets in there.”

You blinked. “M-me? Play?”

Karina smiled, the way she always did when she was trying to encourage you. “Yeah, you can do it. You’ve been practicing, right? I’ll help.”

You swallowed, glancing at the game. It didn’t seem so hard when you watched her play, but now that it was your turn, your palms started sweating. “I-I don’t know if I’m ready,” you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

Karina giggled softly, turning to you with a warm, reassuring smile. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’ll be right here with you. Just remember to breathe.”

You nodded, trying to steady your hands. The chat was filled with messages of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, Y/N!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do great!”

“We’re all rooting for you!”

Finally, you took a deep breath, picked up the controller, and started playing. Your hands trembled slightly, but Karina’s presence beside you helped ground you. “Okay, here we go...”

You weren’t flawless, and it took you a few tries, but each time you failed, Karina was right there, supporting you, giving you advice, and even laughing at your silly mistakes. “It’s alright, you’ll get it next time,” she said, her tone light and encouraging.

“I’m sorry I’m messing up,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” Karina reassured you, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Everyone messes up. You’re doing great.”

And just like that, the anxiety started to melt away, little by little. You focused on the game more than the camera. You focused on Karina’s calm, encouraging voice, and soon enough, you were making progress. The chat was buzzing with comments, but this time, it felt less like an overwhelming storm and more like a friendly buzz of excitement. “OMG, Y/N’s doing it! He’s gonna win!”

“I love how supportive Karina is, they’re a perfect team.”

When you finally beat the level, you couldn’t help but let out a triumphant laugh. “I did it! I actually did it!”

Karina leaned over, giving you a playful kiss on the cheek. “I knew you could do it,” she said, her voice warm and filled with pride. “See? I told you you were ready.”

You smiled shyly, still not used to the attention but feeling proud of yourself. “Thanks, Karina. I… I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The chat was still going wild, but you didn’t mind it anymore. You felt more at ease now, knowing that you had Karina beside you, making this moment something special.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N. I think you just earned your place in the stream world.” Karina smiled at you, squeezing your hand. “Next time, let’s do it together. I’ll be your backup.”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of accomplishment and contentment. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Together.”

And from that moment on, you knew that whether you were on stream or off, you’d always have her by your side.

[piscesbae7]

coriolanus and his pretty little best friend <3

trigger warning: coriolanus snow is a manipulative, whiny bastard!! discrimination against the districts, misogyny, self righteousness, sexual implications, sassy man apocalypse, etcetera!!

District bound for the foreseeable future and cheated out of the Plinth prize by his own hand, an 18 year old Coriolanus Snow’s thoughts often turn vile, driven by his maddening desire for revenge — against the war about nothing that had cost him everything, against the Districts, against dean Highbottom, against mother nature herself for taking his young self’s only source of light in childbirth.

If any positives are to be sought, he was rendered starving no more in the Districts — in exchange for slumming it in 12, mingling with morale lacking filth under the guise of serving his country, his basic needs were met. Late at night, when the barracks prove too noisy to sleep in due to the hushed ramblings of his fellow peacekeeping grunts, Coriolanus’ mind would drift to her. The Crane’s youngest daughter, who had begun to attend the Academy amidst his junior year — those who broke the strict dress code never ceased to irk him, serving as a cruel reminder of his calculatedly hidden class insecurities; but he found himself unable to be truly vexed by the darling bows she adorned in your hair, the sparkly pink lip gloss she thought unnoticeable to those unsuspecting. He knew by the end of the first semester, he simply had to have her.

And as it would seem, fate had other plans for him — a Snow, diminished to serving in arguably the lowliest of Districts? The mere concept is laughable. With each and every boyish string cut — the luckiest of which being Sejanus, clearly, as Strabo Plinth took it upon himself to give his dear boys inheritance to his self proclaimed brother — he was back in the Capitol just in time to begin University.

Not long after returning, he purchased an opulent penthouse separate from Grandma’am and Tigris with a small chunk of his fat, newly granted inheritance, assuring the two of them are taken care of entirely before he takes his leave. It’s still on the Corso, of course, but with the gained luxury of beginning his adulthood on his terms. Not long after settling into his shiny new bachelor pad, he offered his darling girl her own room in his home — after requesting her parents permission, of course. While he thinks Mrs. Crane a sentimental fool and Idmon Crane a slimy bastard, he’d paid his dues in kissing their asses whilst in the Academy — therefore, he feels owed the companionship of their now only daughter. He’d weaseled his way into her life through becoming Arachne’s science partner, though her death is what truly solidified their lifelong friendship — he’d wiped the tears from her pretty face, coddled her endlessly and swore never to rest until payback was had on the Districts for their barbaric, senseless violence. Arachne deserved what she got, of course, but he didn’t dare say that aloud.

With his somewhat self detrimental work ethic and blossoming desire for power, Coriolanus graduated University in 2 years rather than 4, the Valedictorian of his class. Now that she lives in his home and is partially provided for by him, a proposal is an unspoken expectation amongst their friend group and families — with Coriolanus’ ability to swiftly clime the ranks, as he was given the role of co- Head Game-Maker almost immediately upon his graduation, any young lady would be lucky to become his bride!

Bitterness and cynicism had long ago dominated his mind, plagued his relationships. Oh, but he adores his girl. Perhaps it isn’t love — he isn’t quite sure he’s capable, after being foolishly conned by Lucy Gray — but he feels as if he owns her. She is his to provide for and to protect, to have and to hold. Over his dead body would he allow some silly boy to steal her from his grasp — she’s to be Mrs. Coriolanus Snow, in due time. Unbeknownst to her, a ring with a price tag fat enough to feed an entire District for a year is awaiting being picked up at the jewelers this very week — a beautiful, richly colored ruby, surrounded by glittering diamonds; nothing lab grown, as the price increase for mined ones are well worth the bragging rights.

The lighting in his study is dim, on the middle setting, as he burns the midnight oil — so to speak — attempting desperately to finish the tonight draft of his latest Game proposal before he retires to bed for the night. His gelled back, platinum blond hair is messed up past what he’d ever show his face with in public by now, his tie strewn across one of the overstuffed armchairs in the corner of his office and his cufflinks neatly pushed beside his fathers watch, rested on the antique mahogany of his desk. The crack of the door and a pair of hands daintily rested upon his shoulders alert him to his sweet girls presence rather than the usual tell-tale announcement of her heels click clacking against the hardwood flooring, the silk material of her nightdress smooth against the side of his head as she leers over him in an attempt to catch a sneak-peak of his proposal.

“Just a few more pages, I promise.” Coriolanus claims, sighing heartily as he leans back in his chair. He glances at his watch — the time reading 5 past 1 AM — before running a hand through his hair. Unsettlingly blue eyes now fixed upon her smooth, glittery eyeshadow free face, he takes her wrist and presses a kiss to the palm of her hand. He prefers her this way, he thinks, free from the intricately made confines of the Capitol’s latest fashions, in merely her pajamas — so utterly his. God forbid anyone catch him acting such a way; Festus had, once, having stumbled upon them giggling like lovesick fools in a secluded hall of the Heavensbee’s manor, having snuck away from last years reaping party. He’d snickered before walking away, insisting Coriolanus was ‘pussy whipped’ — the thought was so crude he thought it almost laughable; if only she’d let him get so far.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any essays if you drop dead of exhaustion.” She comments, sarcasm more prominent than worry in her tone, sweet like summer rain no matter what she’s speaking of.

“There won’t be a thing if I don’t get these wretched plans approved.” The blond sulks, his never dormant desire to poke and prod at her boundaries bubbling up alongside his instinct to wallow in loathing for Volumnia Gaul. He grabs her wrist, yanking her to stand in between his legs.

Draped in silk and heavy velvet, a chiding sort of smile appears on her features. “Coriolanus.” She scolds — Coryo is saved for his redeeming, chivalrous moments, which are slim to none nowadays. It isn’t necessarily that she’s a pure hearted saint — she had starred in a rather raunchy musical during her time in the Universities theater program as a freshman, thank you very much — she simply knows she’s worth a fat diamond ring and a prestigious last name before gracing any man with a thing. Certainly Coriolanus would have bored of her by now, had she granted him what he seeks. He is very much aware of that — but, a Presidential hopeful undoubtedly needs a wife, and Miss Crane will do just fine.

“My father would have a heart attack.” She reasons, a little gasp falling past her lips as borderline manhandles her, tugging her down onto his lap.

“He would.” Coriolanus agrees with a soft chuckle, cocking his head to the side slightly to gaze at her properly. He adored her propriety, not partaking in the same sexual promiscuity as many of your shared peers — as the call girls he’s visited on more than one occasion. A rare gem indeed. Greedily, he sinks his fingertips into the flesh of her plush hips, shifting to sit up beneath her.

“He should be thankful I remain a gentleman, even in private.” He reasons, shamelessly burying his face against the soft skin of her breasts, sighing as he inhales the heavenly scent — rose and vanilla — of her now signature perfume, the one he’d gifted her over the holidays. His perfect girl, through and through.

“If I were a lesser man, I would do far more to you than simply pull you into my lap.” The Game-Maker promises, voice somewhat muffled by the steady, open mouthed kisses he’s littering where her velvet robe is fallen open.

She simply sighs in discontent, feigning propriety in a surface level attempt to keep the upper hand. The gossip rags remain correct in her newfound title — the gem of Panem — sickeningly desirable with her conditional affections and good family name.

“Enough.” She finally finds it upon herself to insists, smothering a girlish grin before it can fully blossom as she steadied herself against his broad shoulders, feigning being scandalized at his vulgar implications, his desperate touches. Standing up, she wraps her robe tighter around herself, leaning against the edge of his desk — careful not to slide around any important documents regarding his work. All the riches he spoils her in and necessities he provides for her aside — they aren’t yet married! Simply the best of friends.

Coriolanus groans lowly in disapproval, reluctantly letting her hips slip free from his eager grasp. He leans his head back, resting it against the back of his heavily padded leather chair. Although he remains immensely disappointed that he cannot have his darling girl in his arms anymore, watching her strut around tauntingly in her silk nightgown and velvet robe was — and will eternally be — pleasing on the eyes.

He sighs once again, reaching forward to tug at her hand. "Cruel woman." He accuses, a hint of frustration in his tone.

“It’s already far past midnight. Come sleep with me.” Coriolanus prompts, dangling the enviable thread count of his comforter and sheets so silky they’re borderline sinful as one would a prettily bundled ball of yarn to an awaiting feline.

“Shameless.” Is all she has to say in response, turning her nose up at him as if he’s insulted her entire bloodline and requested she drop out of University to pursue a career as a high dollar whore, secluded to his spacious office downtown.

She leans down, pressing a dainty kiss to his clean shaven cheek — a token of her affection, rendered precious due to the scarcity.

“Goodnight.” She offers with a squeeze to his tense shoulder, before sauntering off to her professionally decorated bedroom down the hall and leaving her political-to-be best friend to brood in the solitude of his own company.

Coriolanus sighs heavily, glancing to the grandfather clock on the wall of his study. How a silly young woman with more fashion sense than brains has managed to wrap him around her perfectly manicured finger is beyond him — perhaps he should beckon a call-girl over to the penthouse, he ponders, endlessly fed up with her playing hard to get.

But, alas, there is an essay to be completed — a Presidency he strives for, respect he demands — so, tomorrow, maybe.

Realistically? Not even then.

If all else fails the young Snow, his delusion prevails — his sense of spite, branded to him permanently as a result of all he’s lost. It’s saved him many-a-heartbreaks, really — Crassus would most definitely be proud of the dictator-to-be, strikingly resembling him in more ways than one.

not proof read oopsie

[lemonsummersoda]

back to friends

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: you and rafe cameron were something undefined—more than friends, but never lovers. after leaving the outer banks behind, you try to move on at college, but some memories refuse to fade. when you see him again at a party, everything you try to bury rises back to the surface. some love stories never get a name, but they leave a mark.

content warning: slow burn, drug use, overdose, emotional distress, toxic relationships, and family conflict. 18+

notes: hello! this is my first time writing, and english is not my first language. i'm still learning, so it might not be perfect—but i hope you enjoy it. feedback is very welcome, and i’d really appreciate it if it’s kind and useful. thank you so much for reading! (I just finished watching Normal People, and I wanted to write something sad 😔)

"I want us to pretend we don't know each other," rafe cameron's voice echoed in your ears as you sat dazedly on his bed, still holding his hand—until he gently pulled away. you looked up into his eyes.

"I don’t think i can do that, Rafe," you said quietly, weariness clinging to your voice. your relationship with rafe had always been undefined. more than friends, but never quite lovers. statusless. secret.

rafe looked away, then down, rubbing his face with his hands like he was just as tired as you were. "please," he whispered, eyes flicking back to meet yours.

you stared at him, wounded. you’d always believed birds weren’t meant to be caged. he wasn’t yours to hold onto.

"I won’t forget you," you said at last. "you can ignore me all you want, but i won’t forget us."

•

a new season arrived. the start of the term. you and rafe were both in college now.

you hadn’t spoken since you left whatever you’d had behind in the outer banks. you’d thrown yourself into your studies. you were smart. once antisocial, you had slowly learned how to open up.

rafe was on campus too. you knew that. you’d seen him sometimes—passing by, catching glimpses, cheering him on from the bleachers during football games. he was popular. rafe was still rafe.

•

one weekend, a close friend invited you to a party. you didn’t like loud noises. you didn’t like crowds. but you told yourself one night out wouldn’t kill you.

you wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans—simple, understated, but still attractive.

you sat on the edge of the room, tucked away on a sofa, watching everyone around you. people dancing, laughing, drinking, flirting, fighting. life moved around you. you sipped cheap wine from a red plastic cup and scanned the room.

"hi, what's up?" you heard your friend call out to someone walking by. the disco lights made it hard to see, but when he sat down beside you, you recognized him instantly.

rafe cameron.

"hello," you said softly.

he looked at you, as if gauging your reaction.

"Oh, right! this is Y/N," your friend said, gesturing between you. "She’s from the Outer Banks too."

rafe gave a tight, awkward smile, lips twitching. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rafe Cameron."

you let out a small, bitter laugh and downed the rest of your wine.

"Nice to meet you," you replied, voice low, eyes turning away.

but the memory of him—and of you—still lingered, sharp and unforgotten.

•

"What's your next plan?" your voice was soft as you asked rafe. you were lying on his stomach, his hand absentmindedly playing with your hair. he moved it to lightly squeeze your cheek as you lay sprawled across his bed.

"I don't know, maybe drugs?" he joked, earning an eye roll from you.

"Seriously?" you turned to face him, unimpressed.

rafe met your eyes for a second before sighing. "Probably doing business."

he didn’t say much about ward. the name alone made his mood shift too easily. you knew better than to push. instead, you shifted upward to wrap your arms around him, resting your cheek against his chest.

"I'm gonna miss you, though," you mumbled playfully.

rafe leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head.

but later, you were screaming his name.

"Rafe! Rafe!"

you shook him, slapped his face, tried everything—but he wouldn’t wake up.

he had passed out on the couch, a pile of cocaine sitting on the table nearby. he was stressed—had been arguing with ward more than ever. you were terrified. terrified that he was dying right there in front of you. he was overdosing.

within minutes, the ambulance came and rushed him away.

that was the incident that pushed ward to send rafe to college. he thought it might teach him a lesson—give him a reason to live. find purpose.

rafe had asked you to forget him.

not to tell anyone about his messed-up past.

and you didn’t. it was easy.

he needed you.

but he also believed you deserved better.

Y/N, who always deserved better.

rafe cameron believed money could fix everything.

he’s not clean. not really.

he's still using.

still dealing.

college students? they’re no different.

teenagers are teenagers—chasing popularity, parties, girls.

it’s all fun and games.

until he sees you again.

rafe noticed you the moment you walked into the party.

he went to greet one of your friends, keeping his cool, before your friends pulled him deeper into the chaos.

part of him wanted to wrap his arms around you, tell you he’d missed you every single day.

but another part—the darker, heavier part—didn’t want to drag you back down with him.

How can we go back to being friends When we just shared a bed?

How can you look at me and pretend I'm someone you've never met?

thank you for reading! i know it’s not fully developed yet, but i’ll work on it. ♡♡♡

[schemmentisimpasours]

Chapter 10-Getting Control Back

Summary: More soft Melissa as the girls prepare for Spring Break. Just a slight touch of drama for @milfjuulpod. (SEE I CAN WRITE MORE THAN ANGST). Hints at potential Janine x Ava future relationship. Also prepare yourself.. we only got about 6 more chapters before we close this series.

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Masterlist

1.9k (a lil small bean)

-

Melissa woke up twenty minutes before the alarm was scheduled to go off. She had gotten used to this routine. Waking up before the alarm to let the silence surround her with a comforting ease. She used to hate these moments right when she woke up. Her bed had been cold and the regret of the night before heavy on her heart. But she hadn't felt that way since the first night you had curled around her and never let go. 

Now moments in this silence were filled with dreaming of the future. The future that had the click of claws as Athena jumped on the bed in the early morning. The future that held music that would fill every corner of the house as you danced to unstress from the day. The future with conversation and laughter that would float over good food and drinks. And if she let herself really dream she could hear the patter of feet as children played hide and seek. She hadn't let herself dream like that in years but the thoughts were there getting sharper in focus every time she went.

You grumbled in your sleep moving slightly but settled as Melissa wrapped her arm around you. She pulled you close and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. She knew at one time that this had been her biggest dream. While she had laid alone in hotel beds the remnants of Barbara still lingering in the air she had dreamed of you. Dreamed of what it would be like waking up next to you. How it would be to hold you in her arms. What your lips would feel like pressed up against hers. And now that those dreams were a reality Melissa felt like any dream could come true. It was a scary and exhilarating feeling all wrapped into one.

The sound of the alarm filled the room and so did your usual grumpy grunts and whines as you buried into the pillows. Melissa couldn't help but giggle as she shut off the alarm and pulled the pillow away from your head.

“Baby, we have to get up. You got the big presentation with the 8th graders today,” Melissa reminded you. 

“They will be fine without me. Now give me that pillow back,” You grumbled.

“Not happening but if you get out of bed and get dressed I'll give you a kiss,” Melissa countered.

You squinted your eyes up at her, “Now wait a damn minute. I'm supposed to get a kiss before I get out of bed.”

Melissa shook her head with a laugh playing on her lips, “It was in the contract you agreed to when you said you would move in with me. Do you not remember signing it?”

You rolled your eyes, falling into her game, “No, because I was a little distracted by trying to make you cum all over my face.”

Melissa’s face immediately blushed as you winked, “Be careful or I'll start bartering sex.”

You threw your hands up in surrender, “I'm going. I'm going.”

You fell into your usual routine of getting ready, you and Melissa working with orchestrated ease. Melissa placed soft kisses on your cheeks, neck, and lips any time that she passed by you slowly dethawing your cranky morning heart. You sat on the counter watching her apply the last of her makeup and couldn't help but smile. Her usual Schemmenti armor of blazers and big loopy curls had been replaced. A green tank top was covered by an oversized denim button up that fed into a pair of black leggings and your pair of Timberlands.

“Whatcha staring at?” Melissa asked, pulling her hair up into a ponytail with two curls framing her face.

“You just make everything look so fucking beautiful,” You mused leaning down to kiss her.

When she pulled away she took one last glance in the mirror her nerves showing, “Doesn't look too.. too… I don't know.”

You moved to wrap your arms around her so you both could look in the mirror, “You look like a beautiful, strong, bad ass goddess. It is perfect.”

Melissa smiled leaning back against you, “Your shoes really bring it all together.”

You laughed giving her one final squeeze, “Is this what I have to look forward to when I move in, you constantly stealing all my stuff.”

“Not stealing if I'm returning it to the same place it came from,” Melissa said with a wink, “Now come on baby, let’s go to school.”

After you double checked that everything you needed for your vacation  was secure in your back seat Melissa drove you to school. More at ease behind the wheel of your car then you felt sometimes.Once in the parking lot of Abbott an eighth grader rushed up to you pulling you towards the front door. He barely gave you enough time to shut the car door too excited to go over final minute details for the project. You looked back to wave one final time to Melissa who only shook her head with laughter. 

At the assembly Melissa sat in the front of the rows of chairs leaning forward watching intently. The kids were spread all over on the floor in front of her but she wasn’t focused on that. She only had eyes on you as you made an absolute fool of yourself to help each different group of eighth graders present their favorite historical figure. You were all smiles and laughs always encouraging the kids to continue when they made small mistakes. She was ready for a snarky comment from Ava about you as the principal sat next to her.

Instead Ava said something that shocked her for a completely different reason, “Welcome back Melissa.”

Melissa turned to look at her eyebrows raised, “I was here yesterday Ava. You were here right or did I just dream that it was you in your office trying to peddle clothes?”

“I am not talking about school. You have been walking around this place like a zombie for weeks. I know you have always been a closed off baddie but you were disappearing. Like someone had sucked all the light out of you and left you empty,” Ava replied leaning back to take in Melissa’s new look, “Then Y/N started treating you like you were worth something. Like how you deserve to be treated and you came back. Better than ever I might add.”

Melissa’s blush turned into a smile as she leaned over to give Ava a hug, “Thanks for welcoming me back, ya finally gonna tell your girl you been dreaming of her?”

Ava and Melissa both looked over at Janine across the aisle who was clapping and jumping up and down in her seat. Ava’s expression softened looking at the overenergentic woman. When she finally pulled her eyes away she looked between you and Melissa. 

“If you and Y/N have showed me anything it is that love isn’t gonna fall on your doorstep if you don’t give it a chance so maybe I will,” Ava said and then after a long pause repeated, “Maybe I will.”

“Don’t wait to long is all I am saying,” Melissa shrugged looking back up at you as you sent her a wink, “You might lose your chance to have the galaxy cause you are too afraid to take the jump.”

“Love looks good on you Red.”

With that Ava was up to announce the end to the presentations and release the children outside for a school wide recess before dismissal. Children rushed out the doors pure chaos dissolving into laughter and the impatient head shake of teachers’ heads. This consumed the rest of the day until the children left and spring break officially began. Head buried in her phone distracted by one last minute email that needed to be sent Melissa didn’t realize Barbara was in front of her until it was too late. 

“You told Gerald,” was the only thing she said. 

Melissa took a moment to steady herself before looking up at the woman who used to be her best friend. She still remembered all the moments that had made her fall in love with Barbara. The shared lunches, weekends partying at PESCA, game nights, laughs over pedicures and so many more that she could not scrub away from her mind. But Melissa didn’t want to forget those moments. The good ones reminded her of how Barbara had encouraged her to grow as a teacher and recover from her divorce. The bad ones had merely been part of the rocky path that had led to you.

“I’m done lying for you Howard,” Melissa said simply, “I told Gerald you weren’t with me and where he could find you. If you proved him right that is on you and not me.”

“You don't even look like yourself anymore,” Barbara commented taking the rolled up sleeve of the denim jacket in her hand, “You even a real Schemmenti anymore without the leather and heels?”

Melissa yanked her arm away moving to the other end of the table, “This is the real me that you tried to destroy.”

“Because she was weak and needed to be broken in. Vulnerability only leads to others taking advantage of you.”

Barbara visibly recoiled as Melissa’s face softened to something that looked a lot like pity, “I don't know who hurt you Howard but I hope one day you find love like I have. A love that shows you that you can be vulnerable with someone and have them love you more for it. Who does not use it against you or manipulate it but becomes excited to learn more. Now if you don’t mind I have a vacation to get to.”

She grabbed her bag and headed for the door leaving Barbara in her wake wondering where her fiery redhead had gone. There was no fight in Melissa anymore at least not when it came to her. It was the fighting that Barbara missed the most when it came to the younger woman. How they would fight and argue then fall into bed as the only way to release all of tension still thick in the air. Now Melissa simply iced her out completely erasing the tense moments with silence that seemed to suck everything into it. In this silence Barbara knew it was foolish but she dreamed that Melisssa would walk back to her at the end. Fall into her arms and say that it had all been a mistake that the only person she could love was Barbara. 

This was the last thing on Melissa’s mind however as she spotted you leaning up against your car waiting for her. The moment your eyes met her Melissa felt like she was soaring in the clouds. She grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pulled you in for a kiss. You hummed against her lips and Melissa knew this was her little slice of heaven.

She pulled away just enough to lean her forehead against yours, “You ready for our trip baby?”

You gave her one final hug before nodding and opening the driver’s door for Melissa. She slid in and you curled into the passenger seat. With one hand on your thigh her eyes trained on the road Melissa followed the directions to the cabin on the screen. You sang along to the radio together occasionally feeding Melissa random snacks when she would begin to scream at the other drivers. It immediately cut her off and even though she had caught on to your silly trick she let you continue it. When you fell asleep head on a pillow propped against the window hand still wrapped in Melissa’s that feeling returned seeping deep into her bones. With you anything was possible. 

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