#this took a little over a month and a half !!!

[niwaart]

FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT

[#part1 #part2 #part3]

Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》

Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…

##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##

No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....

Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....

He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...

“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…

Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure

In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Duck or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.

It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.

Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."

@itsmadamehydra @sirenetheblogger @insomniaccorner @nommingonfood @supernaturalmarvelfan @moe-moes-stuff @stickyricewithmangosauce @emeraldcutie44 @randomlyappearingartist @type-ink @kittzu @west-c0ast-00 @hjgdhghoe @sweetconnoisseurgardener @bat1212 @wassupbroski55555 @purplelady22 @c4xcocoa

@sillyheartmoonnyx @hearts4mica

@qardasngan @randomlyappearingartist

@pink-jello-fish @kore-of-the-underworld

@00hellohello00 @superstarbucks

@rue-eru @middevil465 @devils-blackrose @crazycaoticsimp

[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part One]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Next chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

It wasn’t much of a shock for Arsenal fans to know that Y/n Lancaster was one of the best players to ever set foot in London. With her tall stature and athletic build, Y/n was an imposing figure who caused a certain apprehension and fear in some rival players (and sometimes even in her own teammates). But it was also clear that the passionate sighs often outweighed the frightened ones.

Y/n Lancaster was a true sight for sore eyes.

Y/n had woken up just a few minutes earlier to the sound of rain tapping against the window of her bedroom. It was the only sound filling the uncomfortable silence in the room. Y/n stared at her own reflection in the mirror across from her bed, wearing a shirt from last season’s Arsenal training kit. The red shirt seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders—not because of the fabric, but because of the uncertainty that had settled in her chest since the incident that had nearly cost her career. Her return to football was supposed to be triumphant. That’s what was expected of one of the team’s biggest stars, wasn’t it? The young prodigy who had become a relentless defensive midfielder, and who, after months of recovery, would return more unbeatable than ever.

But reality was far less cinematic. Her body still bore the scars of the injury, and although the doctors assured her she was ready, Y/n’s mind still seemed to stumble over the memory of that fateful day when a hard tackle took her off the pitch, taking with it not just a perfect season, but perhaps her future as well.

Now, time was running out for Y/n. Her contract was nearing its end, and negotiations were becoming more complicated with the rise of a new star in the squad. Arsenal wouldn’t wait for her forever. Y/n knew that.

Taking a deep, painful breath, Y/n closed her eyes, tasting the faint bitterness of fear and uncertainty. But she quickly swallowed it, knowing she couldn’t afford to doubt her own abilities, and especially not to lose her place not just as a starter, but also as the captain of her national team.

Y/n got out of bed carefully and stretched, knowing she had to be at the training center by one in the afternoon. The physiotherapy sessions seemed to have intensified with the expectation that Y/n might play in the next match, even if only at half her capacity. The defensive midfielder felt she could deliver more than just a simple game—she wanted to return to being the absolute starter who was essential to the team.

Lancaster had promised herself that she would come back more unbeatable than ever. This would be her golden season, and perhaps it wouldn’t be at Arsenal where her true potential would be tested.

With determined steps and a reserved posture, Y/n entered the physiotherapy wing with a closed expression and Frank Ocean’s *Ivy* resonating through her headphones like the soundtrack to her own melancholy. Y/n kept up her recent routine: spending hours practicing exercises that would drain all her energy, then heading to the second pitch to test her free kicks with an assistant who had been hired to help her recovery. He didn’t seem to be more than twenty-three years old and was a little less reserved than Y/n, which helped form a small friendship between them.

Y/n finished lacing up her boots and appreciated the faint appearance of the sun in the English city. It was rare to find any trace of weather other than rain. Y/n tied up her hair, making a mental note to trim the ends before officially returning to the pitch. If Y/n were to stay at Arsenal for only the next six months, she would make sure they were the best six months of her nearly ten-year stint with the team.

The sound of her cleats hitting the ground was enough for Henry to notice her presence. The tall, blond-haired boy smiled, showing he was happy to see Y/n well enough to start training with the ball.

“Ready to test some kicks and drills?” Henry asked, his tone knowing.

Y/n shrugged as she tested the condition of the pitch, her eyes landing on one of the goals used by the youth team. It was the first time Y/n had trained with someone several years younger, and she knew that younger players always tried to prove themselves to earn a spot in the main squad.

“I hope I’m not rusty. I’m a bit too old to be away for so many months,” Y/n said, hearing the man chuckle.

Henry grabbed a few soccer balls, testing them to make sure they were properly inflated before starting Y/n’s training. The main team was in need of an official free-kick taker, and Y/n was the best at that. No matter the distance or angle, Y/n would either score or make a pass so precise that many wondered how she found those damn gaps in the defense.

It didn’t take long for Henry to set up the wall and for Y/n to place the ball at an angle she loved. Taking free kicks and hitting the perfect angle was one of Y/n’s specialties. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to three, listening for the whistle to blow across the field. With her eyes fixed on the top right corner, Y/n struck the ball so perfectly that the goalkeeper didn’t even come close to reaching it.

“Rusty, huh?” Henry uncrossed his arms, his expression one of surprise.

Y/n chuckled softly, knowing there was no way she could forget how to hit an angle that was relatively easy for her. By the end of the afternoon, Y/n had done some isolated drills with some of the younger players to test if the defensive midfielder was still at her best.

“Damn, my knees are going to kill me,” Y/n complained, collapsing onto the grass, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down her forehead.

“I have to admit, your performance was better than expected. Twelve out of thirteen free kicks scored. Seven tackles and three assists,” Henry listed, his clipboard full of notes and points to be evaluated by the support staff. “Tomorrow you train with the starting team. Just do your best, and the reward will come.”

“I owe you one. Thanks, Hen,” Y/n thanked, smiling at the blond boy.

The boy smiled, knowing Y/n still had a long journey ahead, but that she would undoubtedly recover with excellence.

[skzdelf]

Recording | Bangchan

⭑PAIRING: Bangchan x f!reader

⭑SYNOPSIS: After a long and exhausting day of work for Chan, you decide to accompany him, offering the possibility of helping him unwind.

⭑WARNING: Suggestive content (neck/breast kissing; hickeys)

⭑WORDCOUNT: 2k (2015)

2:47am

The car’s screen displayed the time alongside the radio station number, which was fortunately playing music at such a late hour. The music wasn’t the best or the latest since there aren’t many listeners at this time of night, but anything was better than an endless silence.

The city streets were deserted, except for a few teenagers heading to a nightclub and the occasional taxi.

The lights from apartment buildings and traffic signals reflected off puddles left behind by the rainstorm earlier that evening.

You were driving comfortably with two disposable cups of coffee sitting on the passenger seat. Thin white tendrils of steam rose from the lids, signaling that the liquid inside was still hot.

Chan hadn’t returned from the recording studio, so you decided to go and keep him company. You knew he was too polite to ask any of the guys to stay and help him during his frustrating late-night sessions of writing songs and creating new beats.

The recording studio wasn’t far from the apartment you both shared, but considering how late it was and the unpredictable weather, you didn’t want to take any chances.

You slid the copy of the studio key into the lock, the heart-shaped keychain Chan had gifted you for your anniversary a few months ago tapping softly against the door.

You stepped into the studio’s foyer, a spacious and tidy area where the guys usually hung out while one—or a few—of them worked behind the recording booth’s closed door.

On the coffee table in front of the couch sat a few open packets of chopsticks and a half-eaten cup of ramen, which you assumed belonged to Chan. Spending so much time here must’ve made him hungry.

As you entered the recording room, you found him there. Chan was seated at the desk in front of his multiple monitors and recording equipment. His back was to you, but you could see how he hunched over the desk, scribbling something onto a notebook or piece of paper. The sound of pencil against paper filled the otherwise silent space.

You set the coffees down on a spot far enough from Chan’s equipment to avoid any accidents, then quietly approached him from behind, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“Hi, Channie” you murmured to the dark-haired man, nuzzling your cheek against his before planting a soft kiss on it.

Chris let the pencil slip from his hand to clasp yours, the warmth of his touch both comforting and familiar.

“Hi, darling” he replied in his low, slightly raspy voice—likely strained from overuse.

You leaned in slightly, tightening your embrace as you rested your chin on his shoulder, sneaking a glance at the papers in front of him.

“How long have you been working, Channie?” you asked softly, letting a note of concern seep into your tone.

He sighed, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. “Since the morning… but I wanted to finish this before more work piles up” he admitted, a hint of exhaustion lacing his voice.

You shook your head with a faint smile but kept your hands resting in his. “You should take a break, even if it’s just to clear your head a little.”

Straightening up, you gently pulled your hands from his and placed them on his tense shoulders, starting to massage them lightly. A few muffled groans escaped Chan’s soft lips as he melted under your touch.

His eyelids fluttered closed as he gave in to the sensation of your hands easing the built-up tension in his shoulders. You felt his muscles gradually relax beneath your fingers, and a small smile tugged at your lips, satisfied to see him finally surrender to the comfort you offered.

“That feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and still tinged with raspiness. He tilted his head forward slightly, giving you better access. You took the opportunity to lean in closer, letting your lips lightly graze the skin of his neck in a barely-there gesture.

“Maybe you should take more breaks if this makes you feel so good” you whispered near his ear, your warm breath sending a shiver down his spine.

Chan tensed for a brief moment before relaxing again, turning his head just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze shimmering with both surprise and something deeper. “What if I always needed your help to unwind?” he asked, raising one brow, his tone light but thick with intent.

Your smile widened as your hands moved to his neck, massaging it gently. “That sounds like a lot of work for me. What do I get in return?” you teased, leaning close enough for your lips to brush against the edge of his ear.

“I can think of a few ways to make it up to you” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he spun in his chair to face you. His hands found their way to your hips, firm yet delicate, as if afraid you might pull away, positioning you between his open legs.

“Then show me” you challenged, your hands now resting on his chest, feeling the quick rhythm of his heartbeat under your palms.

Chan didn’t need any more encouragement. His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before leaning forward to close the distance, capturing them in a slow yet desire-filled kiss. His fingers tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, determined to leave no space between you.

His hands left your hips, tracing the curve of your body before settling on your thighs, which he gripped gently to pull you onto his lap.

The kiss deepened, becoming messier and more urgent, your tongues moving together in an almost rhythmic dance.

Your hands buried themselves in Chan’s curly hair, tugging lightly every now and then, making his lips break from yours momentarily as soft sighs escaped him.

“Lemme take this off” Chan murmured between ragged breaths, his hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. You raised your arms to make it easier for him, leaving you in nothing but a black bra.

His hands roamed your skin as if tracing an infinite path, leaving invisible marks behind, claiming you.

Chan took a moment to admire you, his dark eyes trailing over your figure with an intensity that seemed to ignite the air between you. His hands found your waist again, his fingers pressing into your skin with a mix of gentleness and firmness that sent shivers through your body.

“You’re absolutely stunning” he murmured, his voice rough with sincerity as his lips began trailing kisses from your neck to your collarbone.

The warmth of his breath against your skin left you breathless, and before you realized it, your legs moved to wrap around him, pulling yourself even closer. Chan let out a soft growl of approval, his hands sliding down your sides to your rear, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered at that moment.

His kisses continued their descent, stopping at the curve of your breasts, where he sucked lightly, leaving behind reddish marks that made soft moans escape your lips.

The closeness of your bodies made it impossible to ignore how hard Chan was, and the sounds he let out left no room for doubt.

You started moving your hips in a slow rhythm that drove him wild, making him throw his head back with a few low groans, his neck fully exposed to you.

Chan’s hands, now settled on your hips, guided your movements, making them slightly faster, drawing soft moans from you and curses from him.

“I don’t know… if I can last much longer” the taller man admitted, his raspy voice filled with raw honesty as his dark eyes locked onto yours.

His gaze reflected nothing but carnal desperation, a need that seemed to consume him. It was as if every part of him screamed that he needed you—that you were his release after endless hours of work.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on the desk, sweeping papers and objects to the floor in one swift motion.

“This is exactly what I needed after such a long day” he confessed with a mischievous smile before lowering his head to leave a trail of kisses along your jawline and neck.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling each muscle tense beneath your fingers as he explored every inch of your skin with almost reverent dedication.

“Chan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible between shallow breaths, but it was enough to make him pause for a second, looking at you with an expression that mixed devotion and pure desire.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget this night” he promised before leaning in to claim your lips again with unrestrained hunger.

His lips moved fervently over yours, his large hands firmly planted on the desk on either side of your body, keeping you slightly arched backward.

Your fingers tangled in his soft curls, tugging him closer as though you could somehow eliminate the space between your bodies, no matter how impossible it seemed.

The friction of your bodies pressing together sent sparks flying between you, and the low, guttural sounds escaping Chan’s lips were nothing short of intoxicating. You could feel how hard he was—completely and undeniably for you.

Your hands wandered down his body, trailing over his strong arms and broad chest before settling at his hips. Your fingers found his belt, fumbling slightly as you tried to undo it without breaking away from the feverish kiss.

A deep growl rumbled from his throat when he felt your touch there. In response, his hands moved to your hips, pulling you even closer to the edge of the desk, the heat between your bodies now almost unbearable.

“I know you can feel how good you are to me” he whispered in a husky tone against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there before planting a warm kiss. His mouth began a slow descent, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites along your neck and down to your collarbones.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you finally managed to unbuckle his belt, and he noticed. A sly grin spread across his lips as he cupped your face in his hands, tilting your head up to lock eyes with you.

“You’re trembling, love. Am I making you nervous?” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement and raw desire.

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours again, this time more deliberate, more consuming. His hands resumed their exploration, sliding down your sides until they reached your thighs. He gripped them firmly, coaxing a soft gasp from you.

“Chan…” you whispered, your voice breathless as his lips trailed down to the valley of your chest, leaving wet kisses and reddened marks on your skin.

Your hands gripped the waistband of his pants, pulling him impossibly closer, and you began to roll your hips against him again, creating delicious friction that drew groans from both of you.

Finally, his fingers found the button of your jeans. With practiced ease, he unfastened it, his dark, intense eyes meeting yours once again, silently asking for permission. You nodded faintly, as if you could ever deny him.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he slid the fabric down your hips, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. The cool air of the studio brushed against your exposed legs.

Chan’s lips returned to yours, devouring them with a desperate hunger. His hands found the edge of your black underwear, his fingers teasing the delicate fabric as his breathing grew heavier.

“Tell me to stop” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and laced with restraint, though his actions made it clear he hoped you wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t

And there, in the recording studio, the coffees sat untouched where you’d left them, their surfaces now cold and void of the steam that once danced above them.

What a surprise Chan would get when he realized that everything that happened that night had accidentally been recorded.

⭑A/N: Este humilde fic va dedicado a mi Omega bri, espero te guste corazón. Se que lo pediste más hot pero me da wiwi escribirlo (tal vez más adelante)

[moonlight-alexia]

Kyra has been off lately, so Steph and the others arange for tiny to surprise her. (When tiny is at lyon, like in your blurb.)

going through my asks and just got a bit of motivation to write this little blurb :)

reunited - kyra cooney-cross x catley!reader

With yours and Kyra's schedules combined with being in two different countries, the last month there had been an inevitable distance between the two of you. Neither of you meant for it to happen, it was just hard to navigate and work out a long distance relationship initially.

You'd gone from playing together, seeing each other all the time, to only being able to facetime when you were both free and half the time it ended up being at night where you or Kyra would fall asleep so quickly.

Kyra understood, but it didn't make any of it easier. Especially when you got injured. It wasn't anything serious or long-term but it was enough to put you out of the team for the next few weeks. But it also meant you'd miss the next international camp.

Kyra saw it happen before you'd even had the chance to tell her yourself. Not being able to be there and to help you made it worse for her. It wasn't your fault you got injured or that Kyra felt this way, she couldn't help it.

Kyra's change in mood was very noticeable. She'd gone from being her goofy, silly and annoying self to quiet and sulking whenever she had the chance.

'Is Kyra okay?' You asked Steph, you decided to call her since Kyra hadn't answered you in a few days.

'Well she's alive and going to training,' Steph trailed off a little, unsure of how to answer. She didn't want to worry her sister but she didn't want to lie to her either.

'But is she okay?' Your voice came through more firmly.

Steph hesitated, you hadn't taken everything when you moved to Lyon most of your room at her place was untouched, staring through the wall like she could see into your room.

She knew Kyra was there, she had been every day this past week. With a sigh your older sister told you everything, you already had a feeling but she confirmed it.

'Long time no see. Lyon's already roughing you up,' Leah nudged your shoulder gently once you'd made your way through the airport. Not easy since you were back on crutches trying your best not to be knocked over by the people rushing around the airport.

'Bet you're happy 'bout this, means arsenal won't lose by as much as now in the first leg,' You joked around, Leah took your backpack from you making it a bit easy to get around.

'You watch it, I'll leave you here,' You knew Leah was all talk and wouldn't actually, but you still played along.

'And then have to face my sister after you abandoned her poor helpless little sister,' Giving Leah a pout and a faux helpless look, one that she just rolled her eyes to and kept on walking.

You had a few days off and got the okay to be able to travel back to England to surprise Kyra. You did get a half hearted message yesterday from her, you were a little bit nervous.

What if Kyra didn't actually want to see you. Steph and Leah both put those worries to rest, reassuring you that your visit would be good for Kyra. Good for the both of you.

'Ellie and Daan said they'd take care of you, now look at you,' Steph gave you a tight hug, you didn't realise how much you'd missed your older sister.

'They are Stephy, can't blame them for this,' You laughed, 'In my room?' Steph nodded her head and you made your way towards your room. It was weird to be back here, felt like no time had passed but it had been months since you called Steph's apartment your home.

'Hey Ky,' You whispered, opening the door to your room. Kyra's eyes widened and she looked up at you. Rubbing her eyes, making sure you were actually in front of her and not just a hallucination.

Her eyes softened when she noticed the crutches and immediately went to you. Kyra’s arms wrapping around you tightly, you struggling to get your arms free of the crutches to hug her back. 

You both stayed like that for a while. Enjoying being in each other's embrace, Kyra’s arms that you desperately missed, ‘I missed you,’ You whispered against Kyra’s neck.

‘I missed you too,’ Eventually you both pulled away from each other enough to be able to make your way to your bed. The one Kyra had been living in when she wasn’t at training. One of your hoodies on a pillow, you smiled slightly but didn’t comment on it knowing Kyra would get slightly embarrassed over it.

Kyra laid with her back against the headboard, you were laying between her legs, your head against her chest. Making sure you were keeping your injured leg in a way that wouldn’t hurt it further. Your hand was tangled with Kyra’s, gently rubbing and playing with her fingers.

‘I know it’s hard but you can’t shut me out. Please don’t do that Ky,’ You pressed yourself closer to Kyra, afraid she might disappear from you if you had any distance between you both.

‘I promise I’ll do better,’ Kyra whispered against the top of your head, pressing her lips against your forehead, ‘I’m glad you’re here with me right now,’

[saebyeokbliss]

BABY, I’M A ROCKSTAR

pairing: rockstar guitarist!kang sae-byeok x fem!manager!reader synopsis: you spend your days managing an up-and-coming band, HOT DIVISION (핫 디비전), making sure everything runs smoothly while keeping your growing feelings for the lead guitarist buried deep. between late-night gigs, teasing bandmates, and stolen glances, you try to stay professional—but it’s hard when she’s always just within reach, unknowingly pulling you closer. as the band’s success takes off, so does the tension between you and her, leaving you wondering if you’re imagining things or if maybe, just maybe, she feels it too. warnings: strong language, smoking, drug use (weed), teasing, mutual pining, intense eye contact, heart palpitations (caused by sae-byeok), secondhand embarrassment (caused by ji-yeong), found family dynamics, relentless shipping from friends, excessive smirking, emotional damage

a/n: i hope this ate its a little rushed but enjoy guys!!

The van smelled like weed, cheap leather, and the lingering scent of No-eul’s mint gum. You were squished between Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong, half-listening to whatever nonsense Se-mi was rambling about while Ji-yeong took another slow drag from the joint between her fingers.

“I’m just saying,” Ji-yeong exhaled, smoke curling toward the ceiling, “if aliens exist, they’re probably already here. Like, disguised as CEOs or some shit.”

Se-mi hummed in agreement, head lolling back against the seat. “That makes sense. No way some of these billionaires are human. Look at Elon Musk.”

Sae-byeok scoffed beside you, arms crossed. “You two are high as hell.”

“And?” Ji-yeong smirked, offering the joint toward Sae-byeok, who just shot her a glare.

You tried to focus on the road ahead, watching as No-eul kept one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio. Unlike her younger sister, No-eul wasn’t much of a talker. She just rolled her eyes at Se-mi and Ji-yeong’s antics and kept driving.

Your phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down, reading the message from your contact at the label.

[HOT DIVISION CONFIRMED FOR L.A. SHOW. FLIGHTS BOOKED. DETAILS ATTACHED.]

Your stomach flipped.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

Sae-byeok turned her head toward you. “What?”

You swallowed, rereading the message just to make sure you weren’t imagining it. “We’re playing a show in Los Angeles.”

The van erupted into chaos.

Ji-yeong practically threw herself over you to grab your phone, squinting at the message. “No fucking way.”

Se-mi gasped dramatically, gripping Ji-yeong’s arm. “We’re going international, baby!”

Even No-eul cracked a small smile, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “Looks like we made it.”

Sae-byeok’s eyes flickered to yours, something softer there beneath the usual stoicism. “That’s big,” she murmured.

You nodded, heart still racing. “Yeah.”

Then reality hit.

“But I can’t go.”

The excitement in the van screeched to a halt. Ji-yeong frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t go?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t have a passport. I never got one.”

“Just apply for one,” Se-mi said, waving a hand.

You shot her a dry look. “It takes weeks—sometimes months—to process. There’s no way I’ll get it in time.”

A heavy silence settled over the group. Ji-yeong looked genuinely heartbroken. “But you’re our manager.”

No-eul glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “Are you sure there’s no way?”

You shook your head. “Even if I pay for an expedited one, it’s not guaranteed. I won’t make it.”

Sae-byeok was quiet beside you. When you turned to look at her, she was already watching you, brows furrowed.

“You’ll be fine without me,” you tried to joke, nudging her with your elbow. “Just don’t let Ji-yeong and Se-mi get arrested in another country.”

Ji-yeong clutched her chest. “How dare you assume we’d get arrested?”

Se-mi blew out a breath. “No, that’s fair.”

Sae-byeok didn’t smile. If anything, she looked… uneasy.

The rest of the drive was filled with Ji-yeong and Se-mi making plans for what they’d do in LA, but you kept stealing glances at Sae-byeok.

She wasn’t talking.

She was thinking.

And in the pit of your stomach, you knew she wasn’t happy about leaving you behind.

The People Magazine building was sleek, modern, and way too quiet for a group like HOT DIVISION.

You walked a few steps ahead of the girls, phone in hand, skimming through emails while also keeping an ear out for any potential disasters. No-eul was the most responsible of the bunch, but Ji-yeong and Se-mi? They were walking chaos. Sae-byeok, as usual, hovered somewhere in between—cool, collected, and effortlessly intimidating.

The receptionist greeted you with a polite smile, eyes widening slightly when she noticed the four rockstars trailing behind you. You weren’t surprised. HOT DIVISION carried an energy—the kind that turned heads without even trying.

"You're here for the interview and photoshoot?" the receptionist asked.

"Yeah," you replied, tucking your phone into your pocket. "HOT DIVISION."

Ji-yeong leaned onto the counter, flashing a grin. "That’s us."

The receptionist nodded quickly, cheeks slightly pink. "Right! Uh, follow me."

You sighed, already exhausted. This is going to be a long day.

The girls were seated on a long couch in the studio, mics clipped to their outfits. You stood off-camera with the PR team, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold.

The interviewer, a well-dressed woman with a bright smile, started off with the usual questions.

“So, HOT DIVISION has been making waves in the industry. How does it feel to be one of the biggest rock bands right now?”

No-eul, sitting at the far left, shrugged. “Feels normal.”

Sae-byeok, next to her, nodded. “We just play.”

Ji-yeong snorted. “Okay, well, they just play. I personally feel cool as hell about it.”

Se-mi leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “It’s kinda insane, huh? I mean, one minute we’re playing in tiny bars, and the next we’re flying to LA for a show.”

The interviewer smiled. “Speaking of, how are you all feeling about the upcoming performance in the U.S.?”

Ji-yeong threw an arm around Se-mi. “Excited. Terrified. Ready to make questionable decisions.”

You shot her a warning look from your spot off-camera. She winked at you.

Sae-byeok, ever the professional, answered smoothly. “We’re looking forward to it. It’ll be our first time playing overseas, so we want to make it count.”

The interviewer nodded. “And your manager—” she turned toward you briefly, smiling, “—won’t be joining you due to passport issues, right?”

You stiffened. Oh no.

The girls immediately reacted.

Ji-yeong groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind us.”

Se-mi pouted. “It’s tragic, really.”

No-eul, the most composed of the group, simply nodded. “She keeps us in check. It’ll be weird without her.”

Sae-byeok didn’t say anything at first. She just toyed with the ring on her finger, eyes lowered slightly. Then, after a beat, she murmured, “Yeah. It sucks.”

Your breath caught.

The interviewer, sensing the shift, quickly moved on to lighter topics—music influences, songwriting process, tour stories. You exhaled, trying to ignore the way your heart had flipped at Sae-byeok’s words.

Get it together.

If the interview was chaotic, the photoshoot was absolute anarchy.

“Ji-yeong, stop messing with the props,” you scolded, watching as she twirled a mic stand like a weapon.

“I am the prop,” she shot back, striking a ridiculous pose.

Se-mi adjusted the leather jacket draped over her shoulders. “She’s not wrong.”

The photographer sighed. “Alright, let’s try something serious now.”

That was easier said than done.

Se-mi kept making faces at Ji-yeong. Ji-yeong kept making Se-mi laugh. No-eul kept acting like she was above it all, but you knew she was holding back a smirk. Sae-byeok, ever the professional, somehow managed to look effortlessly cool despite the madness around her.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you all please act normal for five minutes?”

“Normal is boring,” Ji-yeong quipped.

Sae-byeok glanced at you then, a rare hint of amusement in her eyes. “You look stressed.”

You huffed. “I am stressed.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. Then, with zero warning, she reached out—her fingers brushing against your wrist, just barely. It was nothing. A fleeting touch. But it sent a shockwave through you.

You went rigid.

She must’ve noticed because her lips twitched—just the slightest hint of a smirk before she pulled away.

You swallowed hard, praying no one else noticed.

Unfortunately, Ji-yeong definitely did.

She waggled her eyebrows at you once the photographer turned away, mouthing, What was that?

You shot her a glare. Drop it.

She didn’t.

Instead, she leaned over to Se-mi and whispered something, and before you knew it, both of them were giving you the look.

Oh god.

No-eul, ever the observant one, simply sighed. “You guys are exhausting.”

You groaned, already dreading the inevitable teasing that would come later.

Sae-byeok, on the other hand, just adjusted the strap of her guitar and pretended she didn’t notice the way you were completely falling apart over her.

She definitely noticed.

And she was enjoying it.

The airport was a mess of people, luggage, and last-minute panic.

You walked beside the girls, keeping a mental checklist of everything they needed. Passports? Check. Boarding passes? Check. Ji-yeong and Se-mi not getting distracted by duty-free stores? Barely a check.

Beside you, Cheol clutched the straps of his backpack, eyes flickering between Sae-byeok and No-eul. He had insisted on coming, saying he wanted to see his noonas and their best friends off. You hadn’t argued. If anything, you figured having him around might keep your chest from aching too much when they left.

“You’re gonna bring me something back, right?” Cheol asked, looking between his two sisters.

No-eul ruffled his hair. “I’ll bring you an overpriced keychain.”

Sae-byeok smirked. “I’ll bring you something cooler.”

Cheol looked smug. “Knew you were my favorite noona.”

No-eul scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. You just smiled, watching the exchange.

“Alright, alright,” you said, checking the time. “You guys have about twenty minutes before you need to get through security.”

Ji-yeong groaned. “Ugh. I hate flights.”

“Then don’t come back,” Cheol deadpanned.

Se-mi gasped dramatically. “Betrayal.”

Sae-byeok chuckled under her breath, and you found yourself staring before you could stop. She was so effortlessly cool—hair tucked behind her ears, hands in her jacket pockets, the weight of her guitar case slung over one shoulder.

God. You were never going to survive this tour without her.

One by one, the girls said their goodbyes.

No-eul gave Cheol a rare, tight hug before nodding at you. “Take care of him.”

You nodded back. “Always.”

Ji-yeong hugged you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Se-mi squeezed your shoulders. “We’ll send pictures. And maybe—maybe—we won’t get arrested.”

You groaned. “That’s not reassuring.”

Then, finally, Sae-byeok stepped forward.

For a second, she just looked at you, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch between you.

Then, instead of a hug, she reached out—slow, deliberate—and tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. Just a tiny pull. Barely anything at all.

But it made your heart stop.

“You should’ve come,” she murmured.

Your throat went dry.

“I—I know,” you managed.

She didn’t say anything else. Just held your gaze for a breath too long before finally stepping back.

Ji-yeong, watching from the side, definitely noticed.

“Alright, lovebirds,” she sing-songed, grabbing Sae-byeok’s wrist before you could combust. “Time to go.”

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes, but you caught the way the corners of her lips twitched.

And then, just like that, they were walking toward security, disappearing into the sea of travelers.

You exhaled, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

Cheol, beside you, tilted his head. “...Did something just happen?”

“No,” you said way too quickly.

Cheol looked skeptical.

But thankfully, he didn’t push it.

Still, as you both walked back toward the exit, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Sae-byeok’s fingers—gentle, fleeting—ghosting over your sleeve.

And you definitely couldn’t shake the way she had looked at you, like maybe—just maybe—this goodbye wasn’t as simple for her as it should’ve been.

You were lying in bed, scrolling through emails and trying to keep yourself busy when your phone buzzed.

Incoming FaceTime: Ji-yeong 🍃🔥

You sighed, already bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold. With a swipe of your finger, you answered, and immediately, the screen was filled with Ji-yeong’s grinning face.

“Manager-nim~” she sang. “Look at what we got.”

The camera flipped around, revealing a bed covered in shopping bags—designer logos, streetwear brands, and more shoes than any of them realistically needed.

Se-mi was sprawled across the bed, holding up a leather jacket. “This cost more than my rent used to.”

“I mean, technically, we don’t pay rent anymore,” Ji-yeong pointed out.

“That’s not the point.”

No-eul, ever the level-headed one, was neatly folding a pair of black jeans. “I only bought what I needed.”

Ji-yeong snorted. “Boring.”

Then, the camera moved slightly, and you finally caught sight of her.

Sae-byeok, sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching the whole ordeal with an amused expression.

She met your gaze through the screen. “They’re ridiculous.”

You exhaled a small laugh, heart doing that stupid thing it always did when she looked at you like that.

Ji-yeong turned the camera back to herself. “Okay, okay, let’s do a haul. Sae-byeok, narrate.”

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes but played along.

The camera flipped again, showing Se-mi dramatically throwing on her new leather jacket.

“Se-mi,” Sae-byeok drawled, “delusional enough to think it’s cold in LA.”

Se-mi gasped. “Excuse me, fashion knows no temperature.”

Ji-yeong cackled before turning the camera to No-eul, who was now lacing up a pair of combat boots.

“No-eul,” Sae-byeok continued, “dressed like she’s about to start a revolution.”

No-eul glanced up. “That’s not wrong.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “And what about Ji-yeong?”

The camera flipped again, showing Ji-yeong putting on a ridiculous pair of oversized sunglasses.

“Ji-yeong,” Sae-byeok said flatly, “pretending she’s famous.”

Ji-yeong grinned. “I am famous.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re all insane.”

Ji-yeong smirked. “And you love us.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then Sae-byeok’s voice cut through—calm, steady, too knowing.

“You miss us.”

Your breath hitched.

The screen had shifted slightly, just enough to show Sae-byeok looking directly at you. Unlike Ji-yeong and Se-mi, who were still messing around, she was watching you.

Waiting.

You swallowed. “Of course, I miss you guys.”

Sae-byeok hummed. “Mhm.”

Ji-yeong, still oblivious, waved at the camera. “Alright, we’ll call again later. Don’t cry too much over us.”

You scoffed. “Goodbye, Ji-yeong.”

“Bye, manager-nim~”

The call ended, and the screen went dark.

You let out a slow breath, staring at your reflection.

Even through a screen, even from miles away, Sae-byeok still had you completely unraveling.

The Kang family’s small living room was buzzing with anticipation.

Cheol sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the TV, while Ms. Kang—sweet as ever—kept offering you snacks every five minutes. You had already accepted a cup of warm tea, more out of politeness than anything, but she still hovered, fussing over you like you were her own child.

“Are you comfortable, dear?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You smiled. “I’m good, Ms. Kang. Thank you.”

She patted your arm before settling onto the couch beside you, hands folded neatly in her lap. “I still can’t believe my girls are performing in America. It feels like just yesterday Sae-byeok was teaching Cheol how to tie his shoes.”

Cheol groaned. “Eomma, don’t bring that up.”

You chuckled, but your heart ached a little at Ms. Kang’s words. You knew what this meant to her—to see both Sae-byeok and No-eul making something of themselves after everything they had been through.

The TV screen flickered as the live broadcast finally started. The stage lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and then—

There they were.

HOT DIVISION.

Ji-yeong, ever the showman, was the first to speak into the mic. “Los Angeles, you ready?”

The audience screamed.

You leaned forward, barely breathing as the camera panned to the rest of the band. No-eul, steady behind the drums, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. Se-mi, hyping up the crowd, bass guitar slung low on her hip. And then—

Your chest tightened.

Sae-byeok.

Dressed in all black, guitar in hand, standing at the center of the stage like she belonged there. The stage lights cast a soft glow over her sharp features, and for a moment, she looked almost unreal—like something out of a dream.

She adjusted the strap of her guitar, eyes scanning the crowd. Then, as if she knew you were watching, she tilted her head slightly, lips curling into the smallest, most knowing smirk.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

Cheol smirked beside you. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” you hissed.

Ms. Kang, ever oblivious, beamed. “Oh, Sae-byeok looks so beautiful.”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. She does.”

Then, the first chords rang out, and the performance began.

The band was electric. The energy was raw, unfiltered, and completely intoxicating. Ji-yeong’s voice was raspy and powerful, Se-mi’s bassline shook the floor, No-eul’s drumming was sharp and precise, and Sae-byeok—

God, Sae-byeok.

The way she played her guitar—fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings, body moving naturally with the music, eyes half-lidded in concentration—was enough to make your brain short-circuit.

You were so screwed.

Cheol nudged you again. “Still staring.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

Ms. Kang smiled warmly, unaware of your internal suffering. “She looks happy.”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

And she did. Sae-byeok wasn’t just playing. She was feeling it—losing herself in the music, in the moment. And for some reason, knowing she was happy made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Then, just as the song reached its climax, the camera zoomed in on Sae-byeok.

And that’s when it happened.

She looked straight into the lens.

Straight at you.

And then—she winked.

Your heart stopped.

Cheol howled with laughter. “OH MY GOD.”

Ms. Kang clapped her hands together. “Did you see that? She winked! How cute!”

You sat there, stunned, gripping your cup of tea like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

She knew.

She absolutely knew.

And she was teasing you.

The song ended, the crowd exploded into cheers, and the screen cut to commercials. But you barely registered any of it.

Because all you could think about was the way Sae-byeok had looked at you—like she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

And worse?

She enjoyed it.

Your phone buzzed violently on the table, the screen lighting up with an incoming FaceTime call.

Incoming FaceTime: Ji-yeong 🍃🔥

You exhaled, already bracing yourself. No doubt they were still on a post-show high, ready to scream in your ear about every little thing. With a swipe, you answered—and immediately, the screen was filled with Ji-yeong, Se-mi, and No-eul squished together, all talking at once.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Ji-yeong shrieked.

“We fucking killed it,” Se-mi added, grinning.

No-eul, ever the calm one, simply gave you a knowing nod. “It went well.”

The camera jostled as they moved, and then—just as expected—Sae-byeok appeared in the background, sitting on the hotel bed, casually scrolling through her phone while the others lost their minds.

Your heart did that stupid thing again.

“I saw,” you said, trying to sound normal. “You guys were insane.”

Ji-yeong cackled. “Duh.”

Se-mi held up her phone. “We’re reading the comments right now. People are losing their shit.”

“Read them to me,” you said, leaning back against the couch.

Ji-yeong cleared her throat dramatically. “Okay, first one—‘HOT DIVISION just changed my brain chemistry. I will never recover.’”

You laughed. “Accurate.”

Se-mi scrolled. “Here’s another—‘Who gave Ji-yeong the right to be that sexy on stage? I need her arrested immediately.’”

Ji-yeong gasped in delight. “Finally, someone who understands me.”

No-eul rolled her eyes. “Here’s a good one—‘No-eul’s drumming is so precise it could probably fix my trust issues.’”

Se-mi fake sniffled. “Beautiful.”

Then, Ji-yeong started wheezing, clutching her stomach. “OH MY GOD. LISTEN TO THIS—‘Did Sae-byeok just wink at the camera? Is she trying to kill us? I’m physically unwell.’”

Your stomach dropped.

Sae-byeok, still looking at her phone, smirked. “That one’s my favorite.”

Ji-yeong, sensing an opportunity for chaos, turned the camera directly to your face. “What about you, manager-nim? How did you feel about the wink?”

You froze.

No-eul sighed. “Ji-yeong.”

Se-mi grinned. “Nah, let her answer.”

Your mouth opened—then closed—then opened again. But nothing came out.

Sae-byeok finally looked up from her phone, eyes locking onto yours through the screen. And the way she was looking at you—calm, amused, waiting—made your brain short-circuit.

What were you supposed to say? Yeah, that wink almost gave me a heart attack? Yeah, I haven’t stopped thinking about it?

Absolutely not.

So, instead, you cleared your throat and muttered, “It was… fine.”

Ji-yeong and Se-mi screamed.

“‘Fine’?! YOU’RE SO FULL OF SHIT,” Ji-yeong howled.

Se-mi clutched her chest. “Oh my god, she’s dying inside.”

No-eul just shook her head. “You two are the worst.”

Meanwhile, Sae-byeok just smirked—subtle, barely there, but you saw it.

And that was worse than anything.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest

[pretentious-blonde]

for you? always

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you’re unravelling—badly—but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

warnings: toxic work environments, crying, SWEET STEVE OMG

a/n: i made a part 3 but can be read as a STANDALONE, and once again, it is hurt/comfort. i just love sweet steve!!

if people want another part i am down. pt. 1 pt. 2

It might be an exaggeration, but Steve Harrington didn’t think life could get much better than this. 

He was standing behind the counter at Family Video, half-listening to Robin as she complained, not really giving her his full attention. She could have been ranting about his terrible sorting system, or the stain on the carpet neither of them had managed to get out since last week. He wasn’t too sure. His focus was more invested at the clock on the far wall, waiting for it to hit 6 p.m. 

It was Friday night, closing time. Normally, he’d be stoked to clock out and get home, maybe lounge around or hang with the kids. But for almost four weeks now, his evenings had been filled with something—someone—more exciting. 

He was aware of how annoying he had gotten. Hell, even Robin teased him about it, calling him the “lovesick puppy,” for the amount of times he was caught staring out the door wistfully, hoping you would wander in on your lunch break. 

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Plus, if he could put up with months of her pining after Vicky, she could put up with it for a little while longer. 

Four weeks—four perfect weeks since that first time you let him take you out for dinner. He brought you to Enzo’s, the fanciest spot in town, really trying to impress you.

He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face remembering it: the two of you tucked into a booth, your eyes lighting up when you tasted the pasta, holding it up for him to try it from your fork, your giggle when he got some of the sauce on the side of his mouth. He became acutely aware of your laugh, actually. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds. 

After he’d driven you home that night and dropped you off at your door, he’d stood there, wanting so badly to kiss you, but also not wanting to assume just because you let him before, he could do it again. 

So, he’d leaned in awkwardly, maybe an inch too far, and you’d given him the sweetest little smile that told him to relax and pulled him in the rest of the way. That moment was etched into his memory, something he found himself revisiting over and over. 

And from there, it had only gotten better. 

The second date at the local diner (you’d shared fries with him and stole a sip of his milkshake), the movie night where he insisted you pick the snacks—any snacks, your call—and still ended up grabbing M&Ms halfway through the film, claiming it was for “variety.” Then there was the afternoon you invited him over to bake cookies—insisting it would be a fun bonding activity—only to end up with flour in your hair and half the dough on the floor, while Steve practically bent over double laughing at how grumpy you looked in your patterned apron. 

And that perfect night at Lover’s Lake. God, he was happy you hadn’t grown up around here. He took full advantage of your lack of knowledge about the location. It was magical, lying on a threadbare blanket underneath the stars. You’d called him “a total sap” when he waxed poetic about constellations he barely remembered the names of.

He had caught you smiling at him like he’d hung the moon himself. He’d stolen a kiss—okay, maybe two, or three—when you’d turned your head toward him, and the surprise on your face melted immediately into something so soft. It made him sure you were feeling the same as him. By the time he was driving you home, hand resting on your thigh, you both felt like you’d just lived out a scene in one of those old romance movies he pretended not to like.

Then came your visits to his territory. He could still picture the day you stepped through the door, a shy smile on your lips. He tried to maintain some level of professional cool, but the moment Robin saw you, she took it upon herself to tease him relentlessly. “So you’re the one Harrington won’t shut up about.” 

He’d glared but couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. You’d just grinned, leaning against the counter, and introduced yourself to Robin, who then spent the rest of the shift chatting with you while Steve tried to play it cool and failed miserably. Yet somehow, that failure felt okay—good, even—because seeing you click so easily with his best friend just made his day sweeter.

Yes, the last month had been a whirlwind—one that left him with a permanent giddy glow. He liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And it wasn’t just because you looked great in every light—though, let’s be honest, that didn’t hurt—but because you seemed to get him. You found humour in his dumb jokes, shared your own stories with him, and let him into your life without any of the hesitations or expectations he’d grown used to.

Even Robin had mentioned how he didn’t snap at customers as much. He threw a glance in her direction, who was now tapping her fingers on a shelf impatiently. 

“Dude,” she said, rolling her eyes, “if you stare at that clock any harder, it’s gonna melt.”

“Give me a break,” Steve smirked, flicking his gaze back at the time. “I’m just… in a good mood, okay?”

“You just want to get out of here to see your girlfriend,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“She’s not my—” He paused, the flush creeping over his cheeks again. “We haven’t exactly— I mean, yeah, we’re kinda… I dunno, it’s been a few weeks. She might be my girlfriend.”

Robin laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm as she approached. “You’re so far gone, it’s painful to watch. Honestly, it's jarring watching you be all heart-eyed lately.”

He wanted to deny it, but instead he found himself laughing too. Was it that obvious? Judging by the glances from Robin and the kids—especially Dustin—it definitely was. But he couldn’t bring himself to care; if being obvious meant you were in his life, then so be it.

Finally, the clock hit closing time. Steve turned, circling the counter to the front entrance. He flipped the sign to “Closed,” already imagining what he might do for the rest of the night. 

You told him to come over that evening at around half past, maybe order some late-night takeaway, or go for a drive, or just hang out on the couch, do nothing but talk about your days. It all sounded equally perfect to him. 

As he began turning off the main computer, the store’s phone rang, shrill and unexpected in the quiet. He exchanged a puzzled look with Robin. 

Who the hell was calling this late?

You arrive at your apartment with shoulders hunched. Your day at The Hawkins Post had been a complete train wreck. You’d expected to face challenges when you got into journalism—no one just handed out dream assignments on a silver platter—but you hadn’t expected to be treated like the office errand girl.

All day, you’d been fetching coffees, photocopying pages, and biting your tongue whenever they cracked jokes at your expense. You told yourself you could handle it, that it was just part of paying your dues. But this afternoon, when they were brainstorming story ideas for the week’s paper, you’d jumped at the chance to volunteer something—anything. Before you could even get more than a sentence out, they’d laughed it off, practically shooing you out of the room.

You clenched your fists, trying not to let tears burn at the back of your eyes as one of the senior editors—some balding guy who’d never bothered learning your name—actually said: “Why don’t you just get us another round of coffee, alright hun?” 

You’d never felt so small in your life.

Now, alone in your living room, the tears finally came. Hot, embarrassing, unwelcome. You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag aside, your mind buzzing with memories of the condescending smirks you’d gotten. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Made you question what you were even doing there. 

The clock on your bookshelf read 6:00 p.m. That meant Steve was probably about to close. You’d said something about grabbing dinner, or even just hanging out at your place to watch that cheesy horror flick you’d both joked about. Normally, the thought would make your heart lift. But right now? You felt too raw to face him.

Not that you didn’t want to see him—you did, desperately. But something inside you balked at the idea of letting him see you like this: tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, humiliated. It’s too soon for that, you had only known him for about a month. No point in handing him your emotional baggage just yet. Maybe that was a two or three month sort of milestone. 

With trembling fingers, you picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d scribbled on a scrap of paper “just in case” you needed him. A part of you wished you had the strength to ask for him, to ask for comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

It rang a few times, and your stomach twisted painfully. Then, his voice came through, warm and cheerful, exactly what you needed and exactly what you felt you didn’t deserve right now.

“Steve?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve’s tone instantly made your eyes sting with fresh tears. “I’m just finishing up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer. You alright?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice not to crack. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean—no, not really.” You cringed at how shaky you sounded. “I’m not feeling so great, so, um… I think I’m gonna have to cancel tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, really? You sure you’re okay? Like fever or something? I can—”

“N-no, I promise, I’m good,” you cut in too quickly, wiping at your cheeks even though he couldn’t see you. “Just think I need some rest.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” He sounded so disheartened. You didn’t like disappointing him. “If you need anything, will you call me? I can be there in like ten minutes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt gnawing at you. He was so sweet, and you were lying. Well, half-lying. You weren’t okay. But you couldn’t tell him that. At least not yet.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured instead. “Just… sorry to cancel.”

He hesitated, that warm voice going even softer. “No, don’t worry about it. Feel better, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve,” you said, barely keeping it together. “Talk later.”

You hung up before your voice could betray you. The moment the line clicked, you tossed the phone aside, heart feeling heavier than before. God, you just hoped he wouldn’t be upset—or that he wouldn’t pry deeper. You didn’t trust yourself not to break down if he asked the right questions.

Still, a tiny part of you wished he’d come anyway.

Steve set the receiver back on its cradle, staring at the phone for a moment longer than necessary. His stomach did a little flip, the kind it did when something was wrong. He could usually read you pretty well by now—your moods, the subtleties in your tone. And that phone call? It screamed distress.

Robin, who’d been watching from across the store, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her. “She canceled.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Robin’s face immediately fell into sympathy. “That really sucks.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “No, I don’t think it’s… I mean, I hope it’s not that. She sounded off, like… said she wasn’t feeling well.”

Robin tilted her head. “She’s sick? Flu or something?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, trying to reconcile the tension in his gut. “She said she just needs rest. I offered to bring her something, but she shot it down.”

Robin gave him a long look, then sighed dramatically, piecing together the puzzle. 

“Harrington, come on. You told me she just moved here, right? She’s got no family around? No close friends yet?”

“Yeah, she’s new,” he admitted, mind flashing back to the time you mentioned how weird it was living in a town where you barely knew anyone.

Robin folded her arms. “So, if she’s not feeling great, she’s gonna be alone.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated, slower this time. A prickle of realisation stirred in him.

“Which might mean,” Robin continued in her usual exasperated tone, “that you, as the devoted whatever-you-are—boyfriend? friend? something—should maybe check on her anyway.”

His eyes widened. “But she said—”

“People say a lot of things,” Robin cut him off. “Sometimes they don’t want to feel like a burden. Or they’re embarrassed. You, of all people, should get that, right?”

A flicker of memory—Steve himself blowing off concerned offers because he didn’t want to look weak—made him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “You think the pharmacy’s still open?”

Robin gave him a small, genuine smile. “Definitely. Swing by, grab some tea or cough drops, or whatever else might help. And maybe the grocery store for soup.”

Steve nodded firmly, adrenaline already buzzing in his veins. You’re alone. You’re upset. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let you suffer through that. Not if he could help it.

“You’re a genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” She waved him off. “And call me later—if you’re still alive. Just in case she actually has the plague or something.”

“Ha-ha,” he shot back as he flew around the counter, grabbing his jacket and headed for the door. 

Steve hovered outside your apartment door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, an overstuffed bag clutched in one hand. He’d stopped at three different stores, grabbing tea, soup, your favorite candy, a variety of painkillers—everything he could think of to help you feel better.

Maybe he was totally wrong about the situation. I mean, hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe you truly wanted space. Maybe he’d overstepped. Maybe he’d come off overbearing. 

But the memory of your shaky voice on the phone nagged at him. He couldn’t just stay away. You’d insisted you were fine, but your voice cracked at the edges. Better to let you tell him in person than for you to suffer in silence. So he took a breath, rang the doorbell, and braced himself.

When you opened the door, it was worse than he expected. Way worse. Every bit of resolve he’d mustered wavered.

You were still in your wrinkled work clothes, eyes red, cheeks blotchy. It was obvious you’d been crying, and the sight of it knocked the air from his lungs. Instantly, all of Steve’s doubts vanished, replaced by a need to do whatever he could to help.

“Hey,” he said softly, attempting a small, reassuring smile. You looked ready to apologise, but before you could say a word, your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. His heart clenched as he gently pushed the door open wider and slipped inside, letting the bag drop beside him.

“Hey, c’mon,” he murmured, pulling you toward him immediately. Not expecting to find you in this state, but nonetheless prepared to help. “It’s okay. Talk to me, yeah? Are you—are you feeling sick, or…?”

You stood there, overwhelmed, arms shaking as you let yourself cling to him. Steve’s heart ached—the same way it did when he saw one of the kids upset, except this was deeper, more urgent.

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and sank further against him, your breath catching in a muffled sob.

It was all he needed to hear.

He readjusted his arms to fit you better, cradling the back of your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He could feel how shaken you were, how close you were to coming completely undone. It made him want to bury you in every comfort he could possibly give.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.” He didn’t know if those things were true, but by the end of the evening, he would make sure they would be.

You pressed your face into his chest, holding him like he was the only solid thing in your life right now. He felt the tremor in your shoulders, the ragged rise and fall of your breaths, and it lit that familiar spark inside him—he needed to fix this. Except he didn’t know how yet. But he would try. So for now he just held you, gently running his hand across your back.

Eventually, he guided you away from the door, nudging it shut behind him with his foot. He decided it would be better to get you settled before trying to get you to talk.  

“C’mon,” he murmured, leading you to the couch. “I…I brought a bunch of stuff—tea, soup, that candy you like…” He tried a tentative smile, but worry still ached in his gut. Those things seemed rather redundant now that he spoke them aloud. When he looked at you, it appeared you didn’t even register what he was saying. Whatever was ailing you, it certainly wasn't the flu.

“Hey,” he said again, voice hushed so as not to scare you. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” His gaze flicked over your tear-stained cheeks, and you could practically feel the genuine concern radiating off him. “I just… I want to help. I can’t help until you tell me what’s wrong. So… let me try, okay?”

His words hung in the air, soft and pleading. There was so much earnestness in his eyes, it almost hurt. He was trying so hard, and you could tell he was moments away from offering every solution under the sun.

That was who he was—a guy who dove in headfirst, wanting to protect and fix. And though part of you still felt hesitant, the rest of you knew you needed him right now. His soft, brown eyes begging you to let him in. 

It would be cruel to tell him not to worry, especially since he already saw the state you were in. You took a deep breath as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

“Work was… hard,” you start, voice trembling on the last word.

Steve nods, encouraging you to continue. “Yeah?” He scoots a little closer. “Tell me about it, angel.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. The humiliation still burns in your chest, but as soon as you see the concern in his eyes, the words begin tumbling out.

“All the guys at the paper,” you say, swallowing hard, “they basically laughed in my face today. I wanted to pitch an idea—I thought, maybe if I showed some initiative, they’d take me seriously.” You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. “Turns out, they don’t.”

He inches forward, the couch creaking beneath his weight. “They laughed?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, blinking away tears. “The whole room, practically. They didn’t even let me finish. Just told me to go make more copies or bring them more coffee. I felt so stupid. Like I’m not cut out for any of this.”

Your voice cracks, and Steve’s expression tightens with empathy. He raises a hand to your cheek, carefully brushing away a stray tear with his thumb before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know how you feel,” he says softly. Then he corrects himself with a small shrug. “Well, not exactly. I know someone else who went through that crap. I don’t know the full story, but from what I heard, it was awful.”

Nancy let slip here and there snippets from her time at The Hawkins Post. The incessant ridicule, the constant demeaning remarks. It irked him then, but now? He was vexed. Grown men picking on you all for a power trip? Unbelievable. 

He had to school his anger before he said something regretful, he always did have a sharp tongue. What you needed now was comfort, not someone going on a rampage on your behalf.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. But you know what I do know?” Steve continues, his voice dropping to a firm, truthful tone. “Those guys? They’re idiots, alright?”

“Maybe…” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and you sniff, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “They made me feel like a complete joke.”

“No way. Not even close.” He shakes his head firmly, like he wants to banish that thought forever. He won’t allow you to linger in self-doubt. “You’re brilliant. Look, you picked up and moved across the country by yourself, found a place to live, and started a brand-new job in a town where you barely know anyone. That takes guts.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of the day pressing in again. “Feels like it was a dumb move,” you admit, voice quieter. “Like I’m playing dress-up in a grown-up’s world, and everyone else can see I’m an imposter.”

A flicker of protectiveness flashes across Steve’s face. He can’t stand the idea of you belittling yourself—he’s seen how you throw yourself into your work, how bravely you uprooted everything to move here, how determined you can be when you set your mind on something.

“Hey,” he says, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re strong, you’re smart, and if they can’t see that, well…” He shrugs. “That’s on them. They’re the ones missing out. I swear half those guys probably haven’t stepped foot outside of Indiana.”

When you lean into him, relief flickers in his chest. 

Thank God, maybe he’s getting through. 

He tucks you closer against his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ll crush it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I believe that.”

“Yeah?” you ask, voice thick.

“Absolutely.” He gives you a little squeeze. “You want a new job? You’ll find one. You want to stay and prove those assholes wrong? You’ll do that too. Just say the word, and I’ll be right there to cheer you on. Or beat them up, if that’s easier.”

Despite the tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes, you let out a half-chuckle. “I’ve never really been much of a quitter,” you admit, the first spark of determination returning to your tone.

“Didn’t think so,” he says with a grin, admiration evident in his voice. “Strong girl like you? You’re gonna do just fine.”

You nestle closer into him, thankful beyond words that he’s here, that he understands in a way you desperately needed someone to.

Steve’s just relieved that you’re letting him be the one to help you shoulder the weight. Something else he realised this evening was that he hates seeing you hurt, but if being here—listening, comforting—helps even a little, then it’s worth every second.

You exhale a shaky breath and smooth down the front of your shirt, eyes still puffy from crying. You feel lighter, like a burden’s been lifted just from having Steve here. Even with a hint of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice quiet. “For making you worry, I mean. I should’ve just told you what was going on.”

Steve’s gaze flicks over your face. “You didn’t—well, okay, maybe I was worried,” he admits, a tiny wry smile tugging at his lips. “But I’d prefer it if you just told me when you’re sad. I mean, I can’t fix everything, but I want to help—when you’ll let me.”

You nod, fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I still feel bad for lying earlier. Telling you I was sick.” You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You got me soup and everything.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, shifting with a touch of bashfulness. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least try to look after you?”

A beat passes, and then your eyes snap to his. 

“Boyfriend?”

Steve freezes, colour blooming across his cheeks. 

Shit.

“Uh… yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, that’s—what did you think we were doing? I figured we were… you know, dating. I pick you up, I pay for stuff, sometimes we—uh—we kiss—” He falters, stumbling over his words. “Not all the time, but—”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile as you watch him ramble. Something tender wells up inside you. It’s like he’s laid himself bare—admitting out loud how he sees you, how he sees this. And it’s so damn endearing you can’t help the small giggle that escapes.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you tease, reaching to gently poke his cheek.

He groans, cheeks going even pinker. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, covering his face with one hand. “I can’t believe—”

You place your hand over his, coaxing him to look at you. “I like the idea of you being my boyfriend,” you say softly, each word weaving comfort through the space between you.

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and for a second, he looks almost boyish with relief. “You do?”

A small smile curves your lips as you lean in. “Yeah.” 

You slide a hand to his cheek, guiding him into a kiss—slow, sweet, and laced with the warmth of everything you’ve been lacking back all day. He exhales against your mouth, shoulders easing with the gentle press of your lips. His thumb strokes lightly over your jaw as he returns the kiss, and you taste a hint of peppermint from the candy he’d been snacking on in the car. When he finally pulls back, breath a little unsteady, there’s a stunned happiness in his eyes. 

“So…” he murmurs, voice catching in his throat. “I’m your boyfriend.” He tried to make it sound like a joke but you could see the question behind his statement. He wanted full clarification here. He wanted to hear you say it out loud. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Yes, Steve. You’re my boyfriend.”

“That’s—God.” He laces his fingers through yours, a giddy laugh bubbling from his chest. “That’s—yeah. Glad we cleared that up.”

You both end up in the kitchen soon after, unpacking the soup he brought. It’s nothing fancy—just store-bought chicken noodle—but it warms you from the inside out as you eat together, perched on stools by the counter. He slides you half the candy he picked up, and you pass the bag back and forth, bumping shoulders with quiet smiles. There’s something so normal about it—the day’s troubles left behind in another world.

Later, you curl up on the couch together, switching on the TV. Steve insists you get first pick after the day you had. You flick through the channels until you settle on some old sitcom that neither of you pay much attention to. You’re more focused on the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, the clock inches toward midnight. The hum of the television plays softly in the background as you shift to look at him. 

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

He winces a little. “Yeah,” he says, regret threading through his voice. “’Fraid so. Saturdays are insane. I tried to switch shifts, but Keith was being a total pain. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shake your head. “I was just wondering if… you wanted to stay here tonight.” Your cheeks warm slightly at the invitation. “I live closer, and I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Plus…” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze momentarily. “I’d really rather not be alone tonight.”

Steve’s eyes flicker with surprise and then a rush of tenderness. “You—you want me to stay? I mean, I don’t want to impose. Not like in a—like we don’t have to—I mean—”

You cut off his rambling by resting a hand over mouth. “Steve.” Your smile is gentle. “Stay the night, please? I’m asking you to.”

He searches your face, seeing sincerity there, and his entire demeanour softens. You’re too damn sweet for your own good, he swears. 

“Alright,” he breathes. “Yeah. I’ll stay.” Then he leans in, pressing a slow, grateful kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Eventually, the two of you shuffle into your bedroom, quietly laughing as you rummage around for that spare toothbrush you promised. You lend him an old T-shirt that’s slightly snug across his shoulders, which only makes you giggle more. By the time you both slip beneath the blankets, the mood has shifted from the sadness of the day to the tenderness of tonight. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, and you snuggle into his chest, breathing in his soft scent. For a moment, neither of you says anything—it’s enough just to lie there, safe and comfortable, heartbeats syncing in the quiet. 

“Night, sweetheart.” He murmurs and you sigh in agreement, already being lulled into sleep. It’s a happy sound—one that makes him pull you closer as you drift off. 

You stir awake to the warmth of Steve’s arm still draped over your waist. Morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating the little dust particles swirling in the morning light. The alarm you set starts to go off and he lets out a quiet groan, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder as if he can hide from the responsibilities of the day. You can’t help but smile, tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand.

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You push a sleepy chuckle past your lips. “You have to—Robin would miss you too much.”

“No she wouldn’t.” He sighs dramatically, rolling onto his back and turning off the blaring sound. “Probably count it as a blessing not to put up with me for a whole Saturday.” But there’s a small, silly grin on his face that betrays the fondness beneath all the complaining.

A short while later, you’re both in the kitchen, sipping hastily brewed coffee due to your shared reluctance to get up. You lean against the counter, watching as he rubs sleep from his eyes and nurses his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. You don’t say anything about the state of his hair, enjoying the way it falls messily across his forehead. 

“You sure you’re feeling better?” he asks, gaze flickering over you, still laced with concern even though you’ve assured him more times than you can count.

You nod, a softer smile pulling at your lips. “I am. Thanks to you,” you add, nudging his foot with yours, blushing with how sappy you’re both being.

He tries for a humble shrug, but the flush creeping up his neck is unmistakable. “Anytime, angel.”

Before long, the clock reminds him that time is up. He slips into yesterday’s shirt—grimacing a bit at the wrinkles—and heads for the door. You follow, hands clasped around your mug. At the threshold, he turns to you, pressing a gentle goodbye kiss to your lips.

Then another.

And another.

“Steve, you’re gonna be late.” You let out an exasperated laugh, placing a firm hand on his chest.

He grins like a kid caught stealing candy. “What—trying to get rid of me already?”

“You know I’m not,” you sigh, rolling your eyes as you gently shove him. “I’m literally seeing you after you clock out!”

His voice lowers playfully as he backs out the door. “Damn right you are.”

He winks, then sets off, leaving you with a warm, tingly feeling long after he disappears from sight.

When Steve finally strolls into Family Video, he finds Robin already at the counter, re-shelving tapes. She glances up, raises an eyebrow, and greets him with a lazy wave.

“Hey. So… how’d it—” She stops mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at him. “Wait a second.” She points accusingly at his shirt. “That is the same outfit from yesterday. You did not—”

“Whoa,” Steve lifts both hands defensively. “It’s not like that, okay?”

Robin sets down the tapes, folding her arms over her chest. “Then enlighten me. Because it sure looks like you had a fun night.”

“Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It was—look, it’s not what you think. She was having a rough time, I went to check on her, and… well, I stayed over. Nothing crazy.”

Robin cocks her head, curiosity replacing her initial look. “So she’s okay?” She may not know you as well as Steve did, but if you were important to him, you were important to her too. 

“Yeah. She will be.” He nods, and a small, proud smile graces his lips. “My girl’s tough.”

Her eyes light up. “Your girl, huh?”

He bobs his head, trying to hide the giddy surge that washes over him. “Yeah. Officially.”

Robin squeals—actually squeals—and Steve flushes, glancing around to make sure there are no customers to witness it. 

“We have to do a double date!” she says, practically bouncing on her heels. “We’ll get Vickie—”

“Rob,” Steve pleads, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from curving up too high, “let’s not scare her off, okay? One step at a time.”

“Fine,” Robin huffs, but she’s beaming at him. “But soon. I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, yet there’s no denying the warmth in his expression. The truth is, he’s never felt so content. The memory of your smile still fresh in his mind, and the knowledge that, yes, you’re his girl. Officially.

“Yeah, we’ll figure something out,” Steve says quietly, stocking a few tapes behind the counter. His voice is softer than usual, carrying a note of contentment Robin hasn’t heard in him for a long, long time.

She shoots him a conspiratorial grin. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, thinking of how you looked in the morning light, how sweet it felt to hold you close and kiss you goodbye. He looks out the window toward your apartment, knowing you’re going to be there when he leaves in a few hours. “Me too.”

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.9): midsummer suit - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

an: theres a little bit of.. not smut but the intention of. so if ur uncomfortable w that.. sorry!!!!! i swear real smut coming soon

part 8- part 9 - part 10

it wasn’t like roni and jj never texted before that night. they had, just not like this. before, it was mostly through sarah, or quick exchanges about something happening in the moment—jj talking shit about a kook party, roni responding with something equally unserious, both of them moving on.

but after that night, something shifted. their texts ramped up, turned into a running conversation that didn’t really have a start or stop. nothing important, just constant. half of it was stupid, the other half even stupider, but neither of them ever left the other on read.

you wake up slow, head heavy, limbs tangled in your sheets. jj’s hoodie still clings to you, carrying that sun-soaked, familiar scent, and for a second, you don’t remember falling asleep in it. then again, you don’t remember much of last night past a certain point—just flashes of laughter, the warmth of bodies pressed close, jj stealing your sunglasses, kiara yelling in your ear.

you rub at your face, squinting against the daylight filtering through your window, before rolling over—and that’s when you see it. your midsummers dress, hung up on your closet door, staring you down like it knows something you don’t.

shit.

midsummers. a reminder that you’ve agreed to show up, fully dressed, fully prepared. a reminder that you’re bringing jj, who, knowing him, probably doesn’t even own a suit.

you groan, flopping onto your back before reaching for your phone on the nightstand. the screen lights up with a couple notifications—one from sarah, one from island lookout (you ignore both), and a random-ass picture from jj at 2 a.m. of what looks like an abandoned shopping cart on the side of the road. you huff out a laugh before pulling up your chat.

if someone told you a month ago that you’d be spending a friday afternoon at a tailor with jj maybank, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but here you are.

jj isn’t the worst shopping partner. he’s actually fun.

he lets you drag him through the store, half-dressed in whatever you throw at him, mostly unbothered until you make him try on a white suit jacket that makes him look like an off-duty magician.

“i look like i’m about to swindle old ladies in a casino,” jj says, staring at his reflection.

“it’s giving coke dealer.”

“that too.”

he disappears at some point and comes back wearing an all-red suit.

“be honest, i look like a sexy little devil, don’t i?”

you don’t even dignify that with a response. just whip out your phone and take a picture. jj is standing on the platform, arms out as some poor old tailor fusses with the fit of his jacket. you’re perched on a nearby couch, arms crossed, head tilted as you watch the disaster unfold.

after many many complaints and suits tried on, you're able to snap a picture of the final suit, sending it to the groupchat.

jj nudges you, jolting your attention away from your phone, his voice low. “dude, i think someone just took a picture of us.”

you glance around, spotting the obvious island lookout informant, a kook girl pretending to browse through ties while clearly not-so-subtly typing on her phone.

you shrug, not even fazed. “oh yeah, that’s normal. happens to me sometimes. not on the cut, but for sure on fig 8 or somewhere around here.”

jj raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “damn, you’re famous.”

you roll your eyes. “oh no, don’t manifest it.”

he laughs, shaking his head. “maybe we’ll trend.”

you groan sarcastiaclly, already imagining the chaos. “please no. dont manifest it.”

you just roll your eyes but smile. there’s no escaping the attention when you’re constantly doing the most.

by the time you both leave, jj is still messing with his collar, looking himself over in the rearview mirror.

“this is dangerous,” he says, admiring the way the suit fits. “if i pull up to midsummers in this, i might not make it out single.”

you snort. “you’re literally my date. be so for real.”

jj grins at you, eyes flicking down for a second before he shrugs. “yeah, yeah. not a bad deal, though.”

you roll your eyes but feel the warmth spread through your chest anyway.

you decide to drive around the island instead of going back to the chateau immediately. windows down, music low. the sun is setting, the conversation easy, bouncing from bullshit to real shit and back again.

it’s only when you pull up to the chateau that the mood shifts.

you put the car into park, the music cutting off along with the engine, but neither of you move. the air inside feels thick, charged, like something’s been hanging between you all day, just waiting to snap.

you stare ahead, hands still gripping the wheel. jj sits back in his seat, stretching out his legs, his fingers drumming lazily against his knee. the silence stretches.

you glance at him.

he smirks, tilting his head. “what?”

that’s all it takes.

a breath of laughter escapes you—nervous, knowing. jj grins wider, like he knows exactly what’s running through your head, because it’s running through his too.

you should probably think it through. maybe hesitate.

you don’t.

you lean in, and jj doesn’t hesitate either. his hand finds your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls you deeper into the kiss.

you exhale sharply through your nose, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt. jj is warm, solid, familiar—but the way he kisses you? anything but.

it’s slow at first, like neither of you want to rush it. then jj tilts his head, and suddenly it’s all teeth, heat, and tongue, a little messy, a little desperate.

you hum against his lips, barely processing the way his hand drags down, palm pressing over your bare thigh. he squeezes, and a jolt of something hot and electric shoots up your spine.

jj grins against your mouth like he can tell. like he likes it.

his fingers press in harder, and you bite his bottom lip in retaliation. he groans, his other hand slipping under the hem of your hoodie, fingertips brushing bare skin.

the air in the car turns thick. the tension crackles.

you shift, moving closer, your knee knocking into his as you drag your nails lightly over his neck. jj shudders, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction knowing you’re getting to him just as much. his hand travels down to your thighs, squeezing them as he inches up to where your really want him.

and then—

“roni?”

sarah’s voice.

you barely have time to pull back before sarah’s face appears in the window, all bright-eyed and oblivious.

“oh, perfect!” she chirps. “roni, can you drive me home real quick? and you wanna get dinner after?”

sarah doesn’t notice a thing.

you glance at jj, expecting to see him just as thrown off, but he’s already leaning back, rubbing his jaw, his expression smooth. like nothing happened.

“yeah, yeah,” you say, your voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat and turn the key in the ignition, gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles turn white.

jj just smirks, tapping his fingers against his knee. “see you later, thornton.”

then he’s out the door, walking toward the chateau like you weren’t just wrapped up in each other, like he didn’t just change everything.

you exhale, gripping the wheel as sarah gets in to the passengers seat.

that was way too close.

an; eek i love itttt also 2 chapters in one day? who am i

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecameronswifeyy

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Bro, I really need, please, Mustaine from Woodstock, tired, to make me give him a blowjob (roughly), please

A/n: I think I peaked with this fic

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), size kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You loved your boyfriend, not just because he was hot but because he was genuinely the sweetest man; he'd help you make food, he'd cook when you were sick, he'd help clean the house, he loved you so purely. However, he was still really fucking hot.

You sat at the sidelines of the stage, eyeing him closely in his plain white tank and light grey sweats. You loved every inch of him, and there were a lot of inches.

Dave was taller than you by quite a bit, he'd always use you as an arm rest. If he had to squeeze past you in the kitchen he'd grab your hips and move you himself, if you had trouble reaching something he'd more often than not just lift you up instead of getting it himself.

He knew how much you loved his muscles, and he went out of his way to remind you of them.

His long hair was frizzy, having not washed it in a few days, tours were always like this. It didn't matter to you much, he still looked gorgeous in your eyes, the light glinting off his plush lips. God blessed this white man a full set, and not just referring to his lips.

The tank was tight, stretching over his chest, perky nipples making small shadows. His broad shoulders and firm muscles had your gaze for a while, but nothing compared to his sweats.

They were baggy, sure, but that didn't stop you from finding the little details. He wore them because they were comfortable, never having been one for fashion, and he was definitely comfortable.

You were at the perfect angle to see his cock swinging around in the loose fabric.Dave really didn't move about the stage much, but you caught it every time, every little shift it's where your eyes went first.

You loved watching Megadeth performing, not just for Dave, but watching Dave had your panties getting slick.

You didn't stay for the encore, rushing to his dressing room. You waited on the couch, hand moving eagerly as you waited but it wasn't enough. Thinking of Dave just made you want him more, you wanted him to fuck you so good and deep, you didn't want to walk for a month, you'd get on stage with him if it meant getting his dick faster.

All those eyes on you, watching how good he made you feel, watching you come undone while his fingers worked away on the six strings.

Finally the door opened and Dave smiled at you, letting out a heavy sigh as he sulked over and plopped down beside you. "Needy, darling?" He asked, though it was more of statement. You nodded nonetheless and leaned into him.

"Need it so bad, Davie." You mused, not hesitating to reach for his clothed cock. He let out a low groan as you palmed him, kissing your temple.

"Can you do it? The work, I mean... I'm tired." His words were mumbled but he could see how desperate you were, and who was he to deny you when you looked at him like that.

You nodded, biting your lip as you slipped off the couch onto your knees in front of him. Dave spread his legs and lifted his hips so you could get his sweats off. Of course he'd gone commando.

His half hard cock sprung free, kind of, it stood up but it was just as tired as the rest of him. Dave let out a heavy sigh as you stroked him, his head falling back onto the couch, his arms resting on the back cushions as well.

It was times like this when you felt the smallest, any time you were intimate really. You always knew you were smaller than him, but when he was hovering over you, trailing kisses down your body, when his fingers were buried deep, tickling inside you. Times when he made you see heaven and back, that's when you felt the smallest, and he was oh so big and protective. Just the thought had you clenching around nothing.

You eagerly took the girthy, blushing tip into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. He'd worn down your gag reflex but you still usually started slow. Not tonight, you buried your nose in his ginger fluff at the hilt, inhaling deeply all the sweat that had gathered there.

You almost didn't want to move, happy to just cock warm him, but you wanted to watch his slit leaking with cum. You went fast, as fast as you could go without snapping your neck, not that you'd be apposed to going out this way. Your tongue swirling around him, tracing the veins along the underside.

God, you could do this all day just to hear his pretty little sounds. "Fuck, just-just like that." He purred, his head rolling back again when he tried to look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, pink leading down his neck.

You brought your hand up, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt. You pushed it up, revealing his toned stomach, though he was relaxed and therefore just a little pudgy. Your fingers found his chest, cupping it just like he did with your tits, and just like he did with your tits, you started toying with his nipple, finally getting what you'd been wanting since he got on stage.

The lights weren't on him anymore, this was as real as he could be; eyes lidded, lips parted slightly as soft moans filtered past them. Dave's breathing was heavy, you did nothing to slow your pace.

Dave brought his own hand up to his chest, pinching and rolling his other nipple with his calloused fingers. It was enough to make you cum, if only. It definitely had an affect on him, his moans getting higher and his hips rolled up, pushing his cock further down your throat.

He couldn't stop, so close to cumming and everything was feeling so good, your lips wrapped around his girth, tongue moving on him, fingers on his chest. He was pulsing down your throat, so close.

Dave used his free hand to tug on your hair, forcefully pulling you away. His hand took over the role of your mouth, moving faster than you could. You heard the soft, whiny little breaths he let out, tears welling in his eyes as his hips bucked helplessly into his hand, aching for release.

His breath caught in his throat and cum shot from his pre-leaking slit, landing on your face or the floor. His eyes fluttered and his jaw dropped in ecstasy.

His hand fell from his now limp dick and he fell back onto the couch, his breathing heavy and his body spent. You stood up, crawling onto the couch and straddling his lap.

"You made a mess~" You purred, kissing him tenderly.

He moaned into the kiss, hands finding your hips and resting there. "Guess it's time for a shower, huh?" He mumbled against you, barely pulling away from the kiss.

"Finally." You teased, he gave your ass a gentle pat.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Twelve Days: Part 5 **^

Here's the next part! Sorry it took so long 😭 But A LOT happens in this part and it might make y'all a little angry but I think the ending makes up for it!

Full Series Masterlist

WC: 10.5K

Warnings: Infidelity, mentions of slight germaphobia, mentions of unkept/untidy home life, fear of abandonment, sex (unprotected, penetrative), mentions of divorce.

It didn’t take as long as you had been expecting to hear back from Harry. Just another few days, you had just gotten into your car after a dinner service at a client’s home when his call came in. You were excited but feeling a bit nervous regarding the purpose of the call, it could be very casual but given the precarious situation you all found yourselves in, it could also be a call about things getting even more complicated. Regardless of what it was, you wanted to hear his voice.

“Hello?” You answered as you started to take off.

“Hi, how was your day?” He asked and you smiled.

“It was alright. And yours?” You asked.

“Busy. I had two lectures today, I’m just getting my things together before going home.” He shared.

“Okay. I am just heading home myself.” You shared.

“Good, I’m glad we get to accompany each other on our drives.” He said and you smiled.

“So how was it when you got back home?” You asked.

“We had a fight…she AirTag-ged my car.” He disclosed and your features twisted in concern.

“What?!”

“Right? Said she needed to confirm that I would go see you. I told her that I would’ve been honest about my plans if she asked.” Harry explained.

“It’s not like we did anything bad.”

“That’s what I told her. She seemed surprised for some reason.”

“Maybe because I’ve always been the more…liberated of the two.” You explained and he chuckled a bit and you smiled. “This would also disprove her theory that you’ve been spending time with me to make her jealous. I feel like that pisses her off more than anything.” You explained. “She’s always been first choice…” you said, “I get it though. She just puts herself out there more and whatnot, she’s easier to notice. I don’t mind that. I’m definitely more of a background girl, it’s where I thrive and feel comfortable so I’ve never competed her for it and I think she might…sense this…us as me trying to compete with her.” You explained.

“Well that’s shitty for me.”

“It is. And I promise you, I’m not trying to compete for you.” You assured him.

“I know, love. It just sucks thatshe is…” he said solemnly.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t feel bad for me, love.” He hummed.

“I do because you don’t deserve it. No one does! I just hopes she…gets some clarity soon. This is getting so insane.” You sighed.

“I don’t want to…create a bigger divide but she’s being pretty harsh towards you. She thinks it’s stupid of me to invest all this time in you because according to her, you’re a flake.” He said and you pouted.

“A flake?” You asked for clarification, you were shocked.

“Yep…she’s just saying things at this point.”

“Yeah.” You hummed.

“Well, I’ve given her a month, in my head. To just get her ducks in a row, meet with the lawyer, figure out what she’s going to do…if she doesn’t, I’m going to talk to your parents and ask them to please…reason with her.” He shared and you hummed, “Do you think they would?” He asked you.

“I think so…they love you so much. My mom has always said you’re the son she never got to have.” You shared and he chuckled.

“Did she?”

“She did! Has actually said it on multiple occasions.” You reassured him.

“Well that does make me feel better.” He hummed.

“Good.” You grinned.

After getting that over with, it was just some light conversation about the good and bad parts of your days until he had arrived home. You were going to do some grocery shopping before getting back to your apartment but assured him you’d let him know when you’d made it home. 

Thankfully, Ash hadn’t shown up again. You half expected another visit and had been feeling on edge arriving at your apartment the last few days, but with each passing day you  tried to let the anxiety diminish. You were loving your quiet life alone so far. You also liked your apartment and were sad that you might have to move if he ever showed up again, but you just needed to not see him again. It was disrespectful really, his inability to honor your wishes after he had left you the way he had. You were feeling even more upset by Bea telling him where you had moved to. You let her know that what she had done was completely unacceptable and just blocked her on everything. You’d observed the way she always got a little more flirty when Ash was around but didn’t think it’d get to the point where she’d share your private information just to get on his good side. Especially when she knew you wanted nothing more to do with him. Hopefully, you’d seen the last of him so that you could actually focus on the dilemma at hand. Your sister. 

You were genuinely feeling really worried over what Julie’s next steps would be. You wanted to talk to her but she wasn’t answering your calls or responding to any of your texts just yet. Of course she had the right to be angry with you, but to think you were just using Harry for attention or to make her jealous? That wasn’t in your nature at all. To call you a flake? You were steadfast as can be, she knew this. You were raised the same. You were definitely hurt by her remarks, but you founds some solace in the knowledge that she was projecting her own insecurities about Joe onto you. This was the man who she had personally told you had some commitment issues! The man who undoubtedly made his way back into her life when he saw the seemingly perfect life she was leading with Harry via her social media, through the outlet she had used to allow him back into her life. 

You wanted to correct this narrative Julie had made up of you so badly because she ought to know you better than what she was choosing to believe of you. You had never had the type of sister relationship that made you best friends, like you’d mentioned to Harry, there’d always been an air of competition. Being just three years older than you, you’d coincided academically on a few occasions and you really didn’t start to “fight back” until high school. Naturally, you were a bit more likable because you were more laid back . You were great in your classes without imparting as much effort, which surprised your teachers. You soon learned that they expected you to be a little more of a wooer as she had been but when they learned you weren’t they eased up on you, the other students did too. Comparison was a killer and after one awful fight she told you that you had ruined her senior year. She had been cold towards you after that until she was off at college. And well, you decided not to go that route, you went to culinary school instead. And that gave her enough of the sense of superiority that she needed to have over you to placate her.

It had been a week after your conversation with Harry that you had your appointment with your therapist and had gotten to speak to her about what your sister had been saying and how you were feeling about it all. She had been supportive of you trying to go speak with her and so you had done just that. It was the end of her workday and though you felt like a stalker for being parked next to her car waiting for her…this was the only way you’d get anything from her. When you saw her approaching the car you hopped out of yours. As soon as she caught your gaze she noticeably became deflated. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked you and you offered a slightly nervous smile.

“Hi.” You greeted Julie. “I was just hoping we could go for dinner and talk?” You asked hopefully.

“About?” She asked cooly.

“What you saw.” You said and you saw her lips purse a bit as she gnawed the inside of her cheek pensively.

“I don’t know…I mean…I know what I saw, I don’t think we need to rehash it.” She stated as she crossed her arms.

“Well you’re still not talking to me so…”

“Because you kissed my husband!” She scowled.

“I know and I’m sorry-”

“No you’re not.” She cut you off.

“I’m not sorry for kissing him. I’m sorry that my actions upset you and angered you.” You clarified.

“So you’re sorry you got caught?” She asked.

“Not necessarily…I mean, I know that you actually don’t care that I kissed him. You don’t love him, so I know that it didn’t hurt you.” You said and she glanced away, “So I’m here to figure out what exactly you’re still so offended with me over.” You said and her gaze found yours again.

“You couldn’t have gone for anyone else?” She asked.

“I didn’t go for him, Julie! We were literally just talking about the things that we were dealing with. I mean, we’ve always had a good relationship as friends, you know that! But through these experiences we’ve been through we bonded on a new level. The attraction was just…there. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t a plan of any sort! And the fact that you believe I would do something like that…” you said sadly, “I’m not calculating like that. You know that. And to be quite honest with you, I feel like…your anger actually has nothing to do with me. It’s just being directed at me and that makes me upset.” You said and her jaw clenched a bit. “Well…that’s all I wanted to say so…” you trailed off and she just nodded but said nothing else. 

After standing there in silence for a few seconds you just got into your car and left. You had done your part and now, the ball was in Julie’s court. You hoped that she would give what you’d said some honest thought and consideration. You had only been on the road for a few minutes when a call came in from Harry.

“Hey.” You greeted him.

“That was enthusiastic.” He chuckled sardonically and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry. I’m just heading home from ambushing my sister.” You informed.

“Ah…I take it didn’t go too well?” 

“Not really…” you confirmed. “She didn’t say much apart from the usual accusations of me interfering in your marriage.” You sighed. “I also presented to her the idea that maybe the things she’s been saying of me are actually her displacing her anger with her situation with Joe onto me. That one did upset her, I saw it in her eyes.” You elaborated.

“Yeah, she doesn’t love to be in the wrong…” Harry chuckled. 

“Yeah. And have you made any headway with her?”

“I don’t know…we’ll see tomorrow. She has an appointment with the lawyer. I’ve already asked mine what I can do if she refuses to sign.” 

“And what did the lawyer say?”

“I can petition through the court for them to serve her the divorce papers. If she does’t sign within a certain timeline then the judge can make a default ruling to dissolve the marriage. So there is a way to proceed if she doesn’t abide by my timeline. I just…I don’t want to put her through that humiliation because the only place I know where to find her apart from our house would be her job.”

“Yeah, that’s low…” you agreed. “I mean, you can AirTag her…” you chuckled and he laughed.

“I could…that low has been reached.” He hummed in amusement. “We also have to get a court date if I go that route and who knows how long that would take.”

“Yeah…let’s just hope she does the right thing and comes around.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “I’d like to see you again soon.” He said after a beat of silence.

“I’d like to see you too.” You hummed.

“Been seeing those videos of the couples painting each other…” Harry shared and you giggled.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Yeah! I think it’d be fun, don’t you?” He asked and you giggled some more.

“Yeah, I think so too!”

“And I can cook for you this time.”

“Love that.” You hummed.

“And we can ask each other all the questions we have for each other over dinner and the painting.” He added to his suggestion.

“Yeah! That sounds like such a fun evening!” You agreed excitedly.

“Good! So let me know when you’ll have at least two days in a row off so that we can also have a little extra time the day after.”

“Okay, I’ll check my work calendar when I get home.”

“Perfect.” Harry smiled. “How are you holding up? Did Ash show up again?”

“I’m alright, still feeling a little…annoyed, I guess. But no, he didn’t come back.” You shared.

“Would you want him to come back? I mean, just so you can clear the air?”

“The more I give it some thought, not really. He’s said what he wanted to say…that he made a mistake, that he loves me and wants me back…” you said with a sarcastic, sing-song-y cadence. 

“Do you want to say anything to him?”

“Just how much he hurt me but if anything, that gives him more power over me and I’d hate that.” You confessed.

“I’d hate that for you too. But if you need that for your closure then it might be worth thinking over before completely disregarding it.” Harry advised, as much as he really did hate the thought of you giving Ash another morsel of your time and attention. He wasn’t jealous, more protective than anything. You were still a shell of yourself and he hated that Ash had done that to you. 

“Maybe you’re right…but I mean, just saying it out loud is enough for now.” You said, “Thank you for…making me feel comfortable and safe enough to be able to say it.” You thanked him.

“Of course, love.” Harry replied. 

Harry was happy that he could make you feel safe and looked after. But he also wanted that same reassurance from you. He understood why you weren’t leaning into that 

and into your feelings for him just yet though. You had every right to feel wary about what you two had going, especially with the stance Julie had taken. But that also meant that right now he had no one to really talk about his heavier and darker feelings. He knew for a fact that if he communicated that to you, you’d be there for him but he also didn’t want to overburden you while you yourself were struggling.

“And what about you? I know that maybe your feelings for Julie are not what they used to be but…it also can’t be easy for you.” You said and he bit his lip as he gave some thought to what he wanted to say.

“You’re right about that…It hasn’t been easy. I mean, because of my family and all, it’s created this…fear of being left behind.” He explained. “That weekend that I went to see you?”

“Mhmm?”

“She didn’t come home until Monday afternoon and when I got in she’d left her suitcase by the garage door and I was just filled with dread that she was leaving without saying anything to me.” He explained. “It felt…confusing…because, while I know that the love isn’t there anymore I still…invested a lot in her. In our home…”

“Yeah, I get that.” You assured him.

“And again, it was just that fear of not having a family again. That after everything I did to build a happy home life for myself, I’d still end up…alone.” He disclosed. After a few seconds of quiet he cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“Don’t be. I was just…processing, empathizing…” you said and he hummed, “If anything, I’d like you to say all of this to me as it comes. You’re always here for me. I want to be here for you too.”

“I want to tell you more but I don’t want to put more on your plate.” He explained.

“I appreciate that but I am feeling better…mentally.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Since…you.” You said and Harry smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Honest. It’s nice to have a friend and someone to care for with reciprocity.” 

“It is. And for the record, I know that you’ll always be in my life. But a part of me is also scared that we won’t be able to have more down the line. Like, what if that gets ruined?”

“So my same fear?” You asked and he hummed.

“Guess so.” He confirmed.

“Well, there’ll always be space for you in my life. I mean that. I feel good when I’m with you and I can only imagine that it’ll only get better if we…are more.” You said timidly.

“I think so too.” Harry hummed and you smiled. “I understand that we both have things to heal from though and that it might take some time to get anywhere near where we might want to get eventually…” he trailed off and chuckled, “I don’t know if maybe I’m getting ahead of myself but I really like you and I like that I can fully be myself around you.” He explained.

You could feel your heart pounding so hard at what he was saying. You could feeling a warmth growing inside of you and spreading all throughout your body. This crush you had on him had you so affected. To hear him saying this was more of a relief than a cause for anxiety. You hadn’t allowed yourself to think that far out of fear that maybe it was intense for now but would fizzle out at some point down the line. But to hear him say that he wanted to give you two an honest shot when things got better, it made you feel a little less delusional. You loved his vulnerability with you. You could also be yourself around him in a way that was so pure. You knew he wouldn’t judge or make you feel bad for it. There was a baseline safety with him that helped your closeness grow quickly. 

“Ummm…sorry. D-did I lose you?” He asked nervously and you shook your head quickly. 

“Oh my god, no sorry! I was just…so happy to hear you say that.” You giggled.

“Thank god…” he chuckled in relief.

“So sorry.” You laughed through an apology again and he joined you as well. 

“Ummm…a-are you far from Santa Barbara?” He asked and you bit your lip.

“Like…almost 30 minutes?”

“Hmmm…do you work tomorrow?” 

“I actually don’t…” you shared.

“Can I come see you?” He asked.

“Now?”

“Yeah!” He chuckled, “If you don’t mind the company, it’s gonna be a long weekend. I won’t have class until next Wednesday.”

“You want to spend a whole ass week with me?”

“Yeah. If you’ll have me.” He hummed.

“What about Julie? I don’t want to instigate any bigger issues.”

“She hasn’t really been staying at the house since she returned from her weekend getaway.” Harry shared, “So…I think she’ll be fine.”

“Well then, I’d love to have you over.” You confirmed happily.

“Great! I’m just getting home so I’m gonna get showered, pack, and head over to you.”

“Perfect! See you soon!” You chirped, not even bothering to minimize your excitement. 

“Alright, I’ll be seeing you soon.” Harry chuckled.

 ***********

It was nearing 8pm when Harry was calling to tell you he was outside of your building. You hurried down with your visitor’s badge to ensure his car was safe while parked there and soon enough you were heading back up to the warmth of your apartment.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him as he followed you in.

“Not yet. Do you want to order in?” 

“We can but I’m not too hungry to be honest.” You explained.

“Has that been constant lately?” He asked as he set his luggage against your couch and his tote down on the couch.

“No, it’s actually been better. But I’m just…coming off my anxious wave after I ambushed Julie. I feel like it was alright but maybe I’ve made things worse.” You explained your concern as he came up to you and grabbed your hands.

“I get the anxiety but I must say that I’m proud of you for making an effort. And well, you know your sister, and whatever she does with what you said is out of your hands now, love. So try not to be too worried about it.” He advised you and you exhaled and nodded. “I know it’s a lot easier said than done, but you’ve said what you needed to and done your part, yeah?” He asked you and you nodded. “That’s all there is to it.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“I know…” you sighed and glanced down as his hands ran up your arms and rubbed over your shoulders soothingly a few times.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned your gaze back to him.

“I’m really proud of you for doing that. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Thank you.” You whispered happily.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked next and you smirked a bit.

“Of course.” You hummed as one of his hands grabbed your chin gently and angled you up, “Kiss me whenever you want.” You said softly and he smiled.

“I don’t think you know what you’re unleashing…” he responded and you giggled.

“Show me then.” You smirked and he leaned in the rest of the way until your lips were meeting.

You loved to kiss Harry and thought of it often when you’d get lost in your day dreams. The shape of his lips fit so nicely against yours. The pressure of them pressing to your own, the eagerness and need that you could feel flooding the atmosphere between the two of you was addicting. If only he knew how much you were affected by this. Your mouth parted easily to let him in as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip. He moaned in relief in perfect unison with you when his tongue smoothed against yours. He had been longing for your taste as much as you had been longing for his. You grabbed his hands and guided them around your waist and he was quick to hug around you, pulling you even closer to his body as your kiss deepened. It was so easy to get lost in the moment with Harry. You were not sitting on your counter with him standing between your legs as you made out. His hands were up your shirt and yours were feeling over his biceps. You hadn’t ever been with someone as muscular as he was. He didn’t even have to flex for you to feel how strong and built he was. 

You were suddenly startled apart by your phone ringing loudly across the counter indicating that it was time for you to begin your “no screen” time. It was easy to find yourself doom scrolling, especially when you struggled to sleep, so you’d made the resolution to cut down your screen time starting at 8pm each night.

“Can you grab it for me?” You asked Harry, your lips smearing into his as you asked your question and he nodded.

“Sure.” He responded and slid his hands from beneath your shirt and walked around the counter to grab your phone before bringing it back to you.

“Sorry, I’m trying to stop using my phone by 8pm each night.” You explained as you stopped the alarm and proceeded to turn on “Do Not Disturb” mode for the night.

“Smart!” He said as his hands landed on your thighs.

“It’s hard but research says cutting off screen time before bed helps.”

“Well, that’s true.” He assured you and you smiled. “And it’s 8 already? I should order something in.” He said before stuffing his hand down his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “Are you hungry now?” He asked you with a smirk.

“Yeah, more now.” You chuckled.

“Hungry for anything in particular?”

“Tacos?” You suggested.

“Ooh, perfect! What’s good in your area?” He asked and soon you had selected a little mom and pop, hole in the way a couple miles away that had never failed you before. 

After placing the order you suggested Harry get into something more comfortable and then get settled in.

“Sorry, I don’t have any space for your toiletries.” You mumbled, “But you’re more than welcome to put your clothes in a drawer! The one of the top right should be empty.” 

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t mind the bag staying up here. If not I’ll just keep it in my soot case.” He said with the Baron Trump meme accent. You looked to him and burst into laughter at this.

“I’m dead! I love that video!” You cackled.

“It’s funny!” He laughed along, “One of my students showed it to me…s’been stuck in my head ever since.” He explained with a smile.

“It is a gem…well, I don’t mind you having your things out for easier access!” You assured him.

“I’m tidy. I promise.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Tell me what your pet peeves are in a shared space, so that I can avoid them.” Harry requested.

“Ummm…just don’t be gross. Ash used to do this ridiculous thing where he’d leave his dirty laundry beside the hamper…” You recalled and Harry chuckled, “That pissed me off. Like it’s right there!” You expressed.

“Yeah, that’s stupid.” He chuckled.

“Or leave his towel on the ground, like he was in a fucking hotel.”

“Oh god…” Harry grimaced, “The smell…”

“Yeah! Mildewy and ugh…thinking of it is giving me the ick.” You frowned. “One time he did not unpack it from the gym and-”

“I know where it’s going, you don’t need to tell me.” He said and you giggled.

“I discovered it, so I have to tell you.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“It grew mold. The whole bag! And who discovered it in the garage?”

“Not Ash!”

“Exactly! And it was so humid that week…God, that was horrifying. Then he had the gall to be pissed at me for throwing away his Alo gym bag…ridiculous.” You huffed.

“If he cared so much about it why did he leave it in that state? What a prick.” He said and you nodded in agreement.

“Exactly what I said…he probably left it in his trunk, encountered the smell and just left it in the garage for me to find and wash.” you rolled your eyes. “And like, he wasn’t like nasty apart from those things. Like, you could tell his mom would do those things for him and his brothers.” You explained and he nodded. “What about you?” You asked.

“Ummm… well growing up my house was very neat until my mom met that prick of a man and then it was pretty unkept. I did a lot of the cleaning up so uh…I guess just clutter and dishes in the sink. That invites ants and cockroaches, which I detest. And well, one time I was going to treat myself to some biscuits and was met with a mouse in the packet so uh… yeah, I’m a little bit of a clean freak.” He explained. You could see that when he talked about these things he got a distant look in his eyes. Like he had to remind himself that, that wasn’t his life anymore. “Also, no eating in bed.” He added, “Because that is literally inviting bugs.” He explained and you nodded.

“Noted. Though I must admit, I have eaten in bed…specially when I’ve gotten sick and no one’s around to look after me.”

“Well you’ve got me now so…no need for that.” He said and you smiled.

“Yeah.” You hummed. “But being in the valley, there are just critters around so it is important to keep things extra clean. I haven’t had any encounters, thankfully! I’m very averse to them.” You explained.

“Yeah, they’re gross.” He agreed.

“Anything else?” You asked.

“Oh! Getting on the bed in outside clothes.”

“Okay, yes!” You agreed, “There are “safe” spaces for me though, I don’t know about you? But like if I visit my parents or friends that don’t have pets, I wouldn’t mind a quick sit on my bed, not gonna roll around in it either…” you said and he chuckled, “But that’s not as gross as if I had gone out to a restaurant or the movies, for example.”

“Well, wouldn’t your car seats have all the germs from everywhere else? So when you sit in the car that gets on your clothes, even if you were in a safe space…” you pouted after he explained.

“Oh god…we could be laying in filth right now…” you said with feigned concern.

“When did you last wash your comforter?” He asked, you knew he was trying to come off pretend-horrified but his eyes said otherwise.

“I’m messing with you! Literally over the weekend. I promise!” You laughed as he looked at you skeptically.

“Pinky promise?”

“Yeah!” You said as you extended your pinky out to him and he wrapped his around yours.

“If I get pink eye, we know what happened here.” He joked and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics as he sniggered. He then interlaced his fingers with yours and just held your hand in his. You could see that there was a lot going on in his mind and you wanted to help however you could.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” You asked him tentatively.

“Tons! But ummm…time and place.” He said as he glanced down at your hands. You squeezed his hand and he glanced up at you.

“Tell me.” You insisted and he sighed.

“Just that…when your sister leaves, for good, I was thinking about how long I’d have to be alone in that house. Like…I saved up a lot for that with the hopes of having a life and a family there, you know?” You nodded in understanding. “I don’t know if I could be there as comfortably if I were alone. I’d hate to sell it but…what would be the point in keeping it?” He asked and you hummed. “And you really don’t have to say anything about it, I just…am a little nervous to be all alone again. And like, I know that I wouldn’t be totally alone, but in a way I haven’t been in a decade you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.” You assured him.

“Like things would be missing that have been there since we moved in together…half of the things would be gone…and well, I couldn’t very well ask or expect you to be able to visit as often as I’d probably like…” he added. 

“I get it. It’s scary.” You said and he nodded.

“How’d you do it?” He asked and you smiled.

“Well, I’m in the middle of that and well, I am depressed!” You chuckled and he smiled, “So…still learning how to cope, I guess. This, with us? It’s helped. I don’t feel so alone anymore.” You explained.

“Good.” He hummed. 

“Yeah, so if you… need me to go out there and hang out you can ask. Whatever the reason in your brain is that’s holding you back from asking me for reciprocity? It’s wrong. If being there and enjoying the home you worked so hard for is important to you, then it’s important to me too.” You assured him with a sincerity that he hadn’t seen from anyone in years and you saw his lips turn up a bit.

Harry just felt this sudden rush of warmth overcome him. He definitely wanted you over more, he just felt a little bad about it right now while things were still up in the air. He wanted to live there forever, he hadn’t committed to buying a home thinking that he would one day grow sick of it. It was heaven on earth to him. He could step out onto his balcony and see the ocean from it! Of course he had made compromises along the way to accommodate Julie like in decor, in paints, upgrades…but he still loved the house. And to know that you’d be willing to make the drive out and spend time with him there simply because he loved it and was comfortable there, well, that was almost more than he could ever ask for. So he was really glad that you had offered it.

“I’d actually really like that.” He finally said and you smiled.

“Okay. Then we’ll make it happen.” You assured him and he smiled and let go of your hand but only because he was pressing himself up to kiss you again. And as your new normal seemed to be, you got lost in it until the delivery person’s call was interrupting you.

You had initially been concerned that maybe you’d pushed him too far or said too much but by the way he was acting now, it seems you had said the correct thing. Harry was a protector, he always had been that way. He was very concerned for your sister, for you, your family… it was never in a way that made you feel incapable, but he just liked to show you all that he would take care of you all if shit hit the fan. You knew that it had been hard for him not to be able to do that for you in the last year, even when he was going through his own stuff. So now, you wanted to allow him to make up for lost time and as you had said, you wanted to reciprocate the way he made you feel and were glad that he felt like you were.

“M’afraid you’re not gonna get a turn, love…” Harry practically slurred with his cheek smushed up against your stomach. You were currently laid on the couch, longways of course, and had put on “Miss Congeniality”. But you had agreed to give each other massages. However, Harry had elected for you to massage his head and it was putting him to sleep.

You giggled, but kept on going. “S’alright.” You responded softly. You could feel him growing heavier against you. “Maybe we should move to the bed though. Don’t want you to have a rough night.” You explained.

“In a minute.” He mumbled.

“Okay.” You agreed. 

Soon enough you’d made it to your bed and as soon as you got under the covers he was reaching for you and pulling you against him. You smiled as you snuggled in against him. You felt him kiss your shoulder before he exhaled and you knew it would be so easy to fall asleep tonight.

*************

When you woke up the next morning it wasn’t because of your alarm, it was just a force of habit. But you were shivering from the cold and were pleased that it was apparently raining. You could heard the soft patter against your bedroom window. And then, you heard Harry humming along to John Mayer just a few feet away in the kitchen. Despite wanting to stay tucked away in the warmth of your bed, you got up and hurried into the bathroom to relieve yourself and freshen up a little bit. When you emerged, Harry was back in bed, topless and smiling at you.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.” You smiled.

“You were snoring.”

“I was not…” you mumbled bashfully as you headed back over to the bed.

“You were! But not like, loud or scary, it was just soft.” He described with a grin. “It was cute! Like a cartoon.” He assured you and you rolled your eyes as you got back in bed. “I just put on some coffee.”

“Thanks.” You hummed as you turned on your side to face him.

“Course.”

“Now, c’mere, please. It’s cold.” You requested and he smiled and hurried over into your side. 

“What do you wanna do today?” He asked.

“Be lazy.” You said and he chuckled. “I do have a client to cook for tomorrow, s’just dinner prep, so I should be back around 6-6:30 the latest.” 

“Would you be up to doing something after?” He asked.

“Yeah!” You hummed.

“Something lowkey, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You confirmed.

“Perfect. Now, I’m gonna kiss you.” He mumbled.

He moved closer and leaned in until your lips were meeting slowly but still eager and saturated with passion. Your hand landed on his chest and slid over his shoulder, tugging him into you, inviting him to settle over you. Your legs tangled momentarily as he started to straddle you. He was holding your jaw as your kiss deepened even further. His hands were sliding up your body, dragging your top up as he went. You sat up to help him pull it off and as soon as he was able, he was back on you, his lips littering your chest in kisses and delicate but playful nicks to your breasts. Your fingers combed through his hair, relishing in the sensations he was giving you. You were absolutely desperate for him and your skin was tingling, you were desperate to feel the warmth of his hands over your arms. You wanted to kiss him again and so you tried to tug him up and he quickly got the hint and kissed up your chest, neck, and jaw before kissing you sloppily. You ground up against him to feel the bulge in his thin pajama pants against you. He grinned and ground down against you with more intent. 

“Is that what you want?” He asked and you blinked up at him.

“More.” You whispered and his gaze softened.

“You sure?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Yes. Please.” You beseeched and Harry smiled before kissing you once more. In moments, he was helping you undress. You were both moving impatiently and albeit a little clumsily, but you were absolutely desperate for each other. And as his naked body hovered over yours you finally felt a little bit better. Relieved. “Please get inside me.”

“Okay.” He hummed and kissed your lips once more, “Didn’t think to bring condoms. D-do you have some?” He asked and you huffed.

“No.” You muttered in slight irritation. You hadn’t planned to ask him to have sex with you, if you had, you would have stocked up, just in case.

“Would you care if we didn’t use one?” He asked and you bit your lip pensively. “Obviously, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it. And well, I can go buy some really quick and give you some time t-to really think about if you really want to do this. You know, in case you maybe have s-some doubt?” He asked.

“I don’t have any doubts.” You assured him with a smile, “D-do you?” You asked and he shook his head, his little smirk mirroring your own. 

“No. I can go get the condoms.” He said again and you bit your lip for a second.

“Ummm…that’s alright.” You assured him and as happy as he was to hear you say that, he gave it a few seconds to let you change your mind.

“Sure?” He asked again and you nodded.

“I’m so fucking sure.” You whispered through a nervous chuckle and he smiled and kissed you again.

“I’ll be mindful to pull out, okay?” He mumbled into your lips.

“Yeah.” You agreed as you raised your leg over his hips to give him space to get inside of you. You could feel the heat and weight of his cock pressed up against you. “I want you so bad.” You whispered.

“I do too, baby.” He hummed as he ground down, letting his cock settle between the sticky and swollen folds of your pussy. You shivered when his tip kissed at your clit with his soft thrusts. “Right there?” He asked and you nodded frantically.

“Yeah, that feels good.” You confirmed breathily and he smiled as his eyes bore into yours.

“Go on then, get what you need.” He hummed lowly and you wasted no time in grinding along with him at your desired pace. You whined lowly as you started to feel the pleasure escalating from the friction. Just when you were getting close you stopped yourself.

“Want to stop?” He asked you, looking into your eyes to ensure everything was okay.

“No, but I don’t want to come like that.” You explained a bit bashfully. 

“Oh…I see.” He hummed with a smirk on his face that made you blush. “Get me inside then.” You smiled and reached down between your bodies. You grabbed a hold of his cock, he was so fucking hard. You raised your hips a bit as you guided him down to your entrance and when you felt that slight dip you rubbed him over your slit a few times. Your eyes flickered up to his only to see his brows furrowed together at the feeling of being just on the edge of slipping inside of you.

“Do it.” You whispered and he let his weight drop down to his hips and just like that he was being swallowed up by your hot and wet muscle. The two of you moaned in unison when he sunk in all the way and collided with your back wall. He held inside for a few second before groaning as he drew back and sunk in again. You exhaled shakily and grabbed his face to kiss him deeply. “Harder.” You said and he nodded before fucking into you with more force and that was absolutely what you were after. You moaned in relief and he kissed you deeply again.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yeah, it feels so good!” You whined and he hummed in satisfaction.

You were already so close, but you wanted to be closer, as close as was physically possible. You wanted to feel overwhelmed by him in the best way possible. And when he delivered his next thrust harder than before you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your mouth. Harry groaned and went again and again, relishing in the satisfied, little grunts you were making. You were absolutely drenching his cock but you couldn’t help it because he was thrusting up against the most sensational spot inside of you. It was almost too deep for you but you welcomed the feeling, you wanted to feel the ache after he was gone in a few days. And it’s almost like he could read your mind as he thrust in and held himself inside of you, grinding into you, watching as your eyes squeezed shut and you shuddered at the sensation of him fucking you that deep.

“Fuck y’feel so good!” You whimpered as you squeezed your legs around his hips and he grinned as he watched your brows pinching together.

“Not as good as you feel, baby.” He hummed lowly, “So fucking wet and hot…” he grumbled, “Shit…gonna need you so fucking badly. All the time. Gonna be dreaming of how nice it feels.” He muttered against the column of your throat. 

You were completely covered in goosebumps, you were trying to stop your legs from trembling but you wouldn’t be able to hold that off for much longer. It just felt too fucking good…he was hitting a part inside of you that even had your clit tingling, if you rubbed on it, it would truly be too much. As badly as you wanted and needed to come, you wanted him to keep fucking you. For him to be your first fuck after all this time, it was well worth it. You could hear the wet squelches of your arousal slicking up his cock and helping him fit inside of you. His girth and length were to die for and absolutely addictive.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come!” you warned him and he grinned down at you, very pleased with himself for how fucked out he had you already.

“Already?” He gloated slightly and you smiled and nodded. Your vision was even blurry at this point as tears of ecstasy and joy welled up in your eyes. “You’re already so fucking gone f’me, S’gonna wipe you out.” He said smugly and you hummed with a slight smile.

He was right, this orgasm would absolutely ruin you and melt your brain. He was literally fucking you better, quite literally forcing your brain to flood your body with that deliciously and slightly terrifying cocktail of oxytocin and dopamine. You swore your skin was tingling, every single cell in your body was going to contribute to this orgasm. But the longer you held off the more intense everything felt. Your walls were throbbing uncontrollably and you were trying so hard to just hold off for a second to make it last longer but it made it worse, as you squeezed the deep plunges of his cock became even more pleasurable and your legs started to tremble and your breathing to shallow.

“Come on, baby. Give it t’me.” He encouraged you and you nodded before pulling him down to kiss you and as your lips met urgently in a messy kiss you started to come. You emitted these pathetic whines and whimpers you’d never ever made before as the ecstasy took over every single part of your body. You were trying not too make too much noise but you were on fire and it had never felt like that before, it was almost too much! Harry’s lips parted from yours so that you could breathe and properly release your sounds as your hips ground up into his to keep the pleasure going. One of your hands pressed down on his butt, holding him close to you and the other was tangled in the curls at the back of his head. He groaned as you squeezed hard around his cock. Your tight, hot muscles were suffocating and contracting around his girth, he nearly fucking drooled from how delicious it felt to be buried in you like this. “M’gonna come.” He panted.

“Come inside of me.” You slurred and he moaned at the mere idea of getting to flood your hot, little pussy with his sperm. He got goosebumps as he thought about how good it would feel to have you take it all. To pull out and see it dripping from your swollen and wrecked little hole only for him to push his cock back into you and get his load back into you. “Please, come in my pussy.” 

“Fuck, baby…” he chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna come so hard.” He panted, “Gonna drown your little pussy.” He mumbled as his abs started to clench and his toes to curl. And moments later he was grunting through three hard and pointed thrusts before stilling. He pressed right up against you and moaned deeply in satisfaction as he came undone. He felt his muscles spasming, struggling to hold his weight as he started to gush inside of you. You could feel the dramatic twitches of his cock lodged up deep inside of you as he filled you up, just as he promised and it was so good, his hips were moving by his own accord at this point and he was enslaved to the feeling of being inside of you, no matter how sensitive it was starting to feel for him. “Fuck…” he panted lowly. 

You could feel his arms trembling and just hugged him tight, encouraging him to drop his weight over you and he did easily. Your fingers danced and tickled over the heated and slightly damp skin of his back as he came down from it. You were finding comfort in his deep inhales as he continued trying to catch his breath. After a few more moments of this he was still completely silent. You knew there was nothing wrong because he was practically melted against your body, and you smiled and kissed the top of his head as he started to sponged a few sloppy kisses along your jaw. With the little strength he had built up again, he pulled you both onto your sides. He slipped from you with the change in position but you draped your leg over his hip and his hand immediately ran up your leg soothingly while he rested his head over his other arm. You were smiling as you just watched him, he still had his eyes closed as he regulated his breathing.

“You alright there?” You inquired, your voice was a whisper but he could hear the slight hint of smugness in it.

“Just a little light headed.” He chuckled his confession and you giggled and reached for his face. You caressed the side of his face lovingly with the backs of your fingers.

“Want me t’get you some water?” You asked.

“No, stay here with me.” He responded and you smiled.

“‘Kay.” You whispered. You just watched him for a few seconds until he slowly blinked his eyes open. You smiled as he squinted a bit.

“Jesus, I’m seeing spots.” He laughed lowly through his admission and you started to giggle along with him. “Don’t laugh at me.” He griped and you leaned forward and smooched over his pouted lips.

“M’not. I’m laughing with you.” You mumbled against his mouth and he quickly kissed your lips back.

“Sure…” he hummed and finally opened his eyes and met your adoring gaze.

“We’re going again later, right?” You asked and he laughed for a moment before kissing you again and nodding.

“Oh absolutely. I might not be able to walk but it’ll be worth it.” He mumbled into your kiss-swollen lips.

“God…but good.” You giggled, completely satisfied with his response.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” He whispered and you glanced away bashfully and instead focused on the swallow tattooed over his left pectoral.

“Neither do I.” You admitted and he smiled as you leaned closer and buried your face into the crook of his neck and took a deep inhale before placing a kiss at the base of his throat. 

There was only one thought at the forefront of his mind right now and it was that there was absolutely no world in which this didn’t end with him falling absolutely and hopelessly in love with you. He loved everything about you and what he’d seen of your life so far, he couldn’t wait to experience it for the rest of the days he’d be here with you.

Several Days Later…

You didn’t want to verbalize just how perfect the last several days had been with Harry in case you were to jinx it, but you were certainly thinking about it with each passing minute. You had clients that day so you had to leave Harry at your place for but it was  so lovely to return to a clean home and a meal. As soon as you walked in you could smell the lingering fresh scent of cleaning products but were mostly overpowered by what you were kind of hoping was a bolognese sauce. Thankfully, you were able to make off from your last client with a little extra dessert, so you had something to contribute for tonight.

“Smell’s amazing!” You announced your arrival as you slipped out of your shoes. 

Harry didn’t respond so you figured he was in the shower or something. And as you walked further in you saw that the table was set and two long stick candles were lit, giving the setting a more intimate feel. You bit your lip to hold back your excitement. It was your last night together, so you weren’t surprised that Harry was pulling out all the stops until the next time you got to be together. You headed towards your bedroom to change into a fresh and more comfortable outfit and when you stepped inside you saw Harry just standing at the window and glancing out towards the busy street below.

“Harry?” You called in question and he sniffled and turned around. 

“Sorry, I was trying to collect myself-”

“What happened? What’s wrong?” You asked quickly as you let your purse drop to the floor and rushed over to him.

“Your mom called,” he said and you immediately though the worst, your heart dropped, “Julie told them that she’s pregnant.” He said and you stopped right before you reached him. Not as terrifying as you thought but still incredibly fucking awful. Your features furrowed in disappointment and your stomach turned as the information processed. Harry hurried over to you, “Baby, it’s not me. It couldn’t be, we haven’t slept together since like August!” He explained and you nodded and let him take your hands. “But they don’t know that.”

“Ask for a paternity test.” You said right away.

“I will.” He assured you. “I guess she said she wasn’t feeling well so your mom drove her to the urgent care and they found out. Your mom called me all excited about it… I just don’t want to humiliate her.” He explained.

“And that’s very noble and considerate of you, Harry. But you do realize that she’s trying to put you in an impossible position.” You said and he frowned. “You deserve to do this. To have a family on your own terms, Harry.” You said and he nodded.

“I-I don’t even know what to do about this.” He stammered, still in shock.

“This is going to sound awful but…tell your lawyer.” You said and he sighed. “She’s willing to force you into this situation when you had nothing to do with it. If she has to prove paternity she will have to be honest. She loves Joey and she did this with him, they need to figure this out together.”

“You’re right.” He conceded. “Ummm… I’m not feeling too hungry any more. I’m sorry.” He said and glanced down at the floor.

“That’s alright. I understand.” You assured him. “I also understand if you…need some space.” You said and he glanced into your eyes again.

“Yeah… I ummm…I should go.” He said and you nodded, “They’re expecting me to look after her since she isn’t feeling well. And the drive’ll help, I think.” He muttered, but he was quite absent.

“Okay.” You said softly and he just walked around you and into your closet to grab his suitcase. You just watched silently as he robotically and haphazardly just dumped his things into the luggage before shutting it and wheeling it out. You followed after him as he headed to the entrance and slipped into his sneakers. 

“Harry.” You said and he glanced up at you. You could see his eyes welled up with tears. “Please be safe.” You said and he nodded before rushing out. As soon as the door shut your own tears started to trickle down your face. 

You were relieved when he texted you that he’d gotten home and assured him that if he needed to talk at all that you’d be there for him. But you felt so angry at your sister for this one. How could she do this to him? It was awful and selfish behavior. You wanted to call her but this wasn’t your battle to fight.

Harry’s POV:

Harry felt completely blindsided by Isabel’s phone call about Julie. He felt sick to his stomach as he parked in the garage because Isabel was still at their house, her car was up front and he had no idea how he would swallow down all that devastation and dread he was feeling. He didn’t want to ruin Isabel’s excitement but pretending that he was happy about this…having to hold and kiss Julie, congratulate her for something he had nothing to do with, it made him sick to his stomach. He texted you to let you know that he’d made it safely and you immediately loved his message and with that he made it inside. 

“Oh good! You’re home!” Isabel greeted him excitedly as soon as Harry made it inside from the garage. He put on a smile and nodded, approaching her to greet her. 

“Yeah, sorry it took me a while. I was out in LA.” He explained.

“No problem, as long as you made it safe!” She said as she opened her arms and he ducked down a bit to hug her and kiss her cheek. “Congrats, mijo.” She hummed happily as she gave him a firm squeeze.

“Thank you.” He responded as they pulled away slowly.

“I’m just making her some ginger tea, she’s been very nauseous.” Isabel explained.

“Thank you, I’m gonna go see her now.”

“Yes, please!” She insisted, beaming from ear to ear and he smiled and made his way out of the kitchen. 

Every step he took up towards the bedroom made him even more sick to his stomach. He hoped there was extra of that ginger tea because this was getting to be too much. When he made it to the top landing he saw the bedroom door open and he made his way over to see Julie scrolling through her phone. 

“Hey.” She greeted him solemnly.

“Hi.” He said quite cooly.

“Look-”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He cut her off and she frowned.

“Not while my mom is here, Harry.” She sighed.

“No. We’re doing this right now.” He insisted as he pushed the door back leaving it slightly ajar.

“Then close it all the way.” She said.

“Then we won’t hear her coming. I won’t raise my voice if you don’t.” He said and she sighed. “There is no way you didn’t know.” He insisted, “When did you find out?” 

“On Monday.” She said, “I missed my period last week and I took two tests on Monday. One positive and the other inconclusive. Sometimes it can be stress or other things that impact so I figured I should go and find out.”

“And you had to take your mom to do that?”

“I was scared!” She defended herself.

“Then you should’ve asked Joe.” He retorted.

“I didn’t want him to freak out!”

“But you’re okay with your mom thinking that I got you pregnant?!” He asked angrily and her eyes started welling up. “You have to tell your parents now, Julie.” He said.

“Harry, please-”

“No! I’m not going to take responsibility for this!”

“And what if he leaves me?” She asked and Harry’s eyes softened for a moment.

“I-I don’t know but you have been cheating on me for months! We haven’t slept together since last year! This has nothing to do with me, Julie!” He was trying not to raise his voice but he was so hurt and angry at her. “You don’t love me and I know for a fact you don’t want this with me.” Harry finished and she started to sniffle as her tears fell. “You have to tell your family the truth!” He urged.

“Do you know how humiliating that will be!?”

“If you had agreed to the divorce when I brought it up not as much as it might be now! If you don’t come clean to your parents about this I will involve my lawyer and demand a paternity test! And we both know what the result will be.”

“I need more time.” She said softly.

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Harry-”

“You tell them or I do.” He said sternly.

Isabel’s POV:

She hadn’t meant to eaves drop, she just wanted to come ask Julie if she would want some toast with her tea to settle her stomach when she heard the hushed argument.

“Harry, please-”

“No! I’m not going to take responsibility for this!” She heard Harry respond. She almost intervened when she heard this, feeling so much anger rising up in her at the sound of her son-in-law being so disinterested and cold after finding out he would be a father!

“And what if he leaves me?” Julie asked and she stopped from reaching for the door. She was momentarily frozen in shock as she processed Julie’s concern.

“I-I don’t know but you have been cheating on me for months! We haven’t slept together since last year! This has nothing to do with me, Julie!”

Isabel could hear it in his voice that he felt bad but if this was not his child, he truly had no obligation to her. Especially if she had been having an affair for who knows how long.

“You don’t love me and I know for a fact you don’t want this with me.” Harry added. “You have to tell your family the truth!” 

“Do you know how humiliating that will be!?” Julie cried quietly and Isabel frowned and started to back away, hearing faintly about previous discussions of a divorce. This was very private and she had heard more than she probably should have. 

She was completely taken by surprise and immediately felt so bad for Harry and the situation that she had unintentionally put him in. She could only imagine how devastated he felt knowing that his wife was pregnant with another man’s child. A man that might not even stick around to help her or support her with this. Obviously she would always love her daughter, but it didn’t mean that she would always support her choices and this choice…to have an extramarital affair. To not grant Harry the divorce he had seemingly asked for before when she didn’t even love him anymore. The gall to ask him to stick around if the other man didn’t… it did not sit well with her and made her feel so frustrated at her. She hoped that Julie would say something soon because there was no way she could keep quiet for too long. Harry had been so good to all of them and he did not deserve that.

FINAL PART...

---- TAG LIST ----

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[unholyhelbig]

Can we get a backstory for all to familiar? Like how they met and how she was before Kate trained her? Good work btw!

Title: The Woman in White (Read part one here)

Ship: Female!Reader x Vampire!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Vampire tendencies, blood, dom/sub dynamics, reference to substance abuse, biting (She's a vampire), murder (Still a vampire), pet names, alcohol, mention of incarceration, stabbing, horrible grammar

[A/n: okay, so this is not my best work, but I gave it a shot. I've been dealing with school and work lately but I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the first part!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were little things about the large manor on Ivy Rowe that set off alarms in your mind. Small inconsistencies that should have set off alarm bells in your mind, red flashers screaming loud enough to tell you this was a horrible idea. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug and the way it filled your veins won out against rationale every single time. It certainly clouded your senses when you combined it with piss warm beer and a rolled blunt that was mostly stems.

The back door was open, so really, it took away one half of the misdemeanor from your already extensive record. It was cold in the house, dark and empty enough to dry half the water that clung to your body. The scent of chlorine clung to your skin and prickled dangerously. Fuck, it was massive in here.

You had an objective. There had to be a bathroom close by. But the kitchen was so captivating. Everything about the home was. Your intentions were innocent enough. You and a few friends often got tipsy enough to wander Ivy Rowe for a heated pool in the middle of September nights. Summer homes that were abandoned. Unguarded. People that had too much money for their own good.

You’d done worse. Crimes that were not so victimless, ones that would keep you up at night. Stolen cars and bloodied knuckles. Things that had you shivering into yourself from something other than the cold tile under your feet. Perhaps the reason why you were padding into a strangers kitchen now, peering into mostly empty cabinets when you ought to be returning to the warmth of the water instead. Where exactly had you gone wrong?

The school guidance counselor blamed the foster care system. You blamed the fact that she shook her Tupperware container filled with chopped salad (too much onion, too little mouthwash preparedness). Later, after court mandated therapy, you would pin the blame on the lack of love you got from your father before he got hit by a train when you were six. Now you just blamed your lack of motivation and your horrible job as a grocery bagger.

The fridge was empty, safe for a box of baking soda. Instead, you opened the freezer, rewarded with a chilled bottle of fireball. Something you’d vomited up on more than one occasion, but you were a fighter and the buzz of that outweighed the horrible memories. You whispered out a victorious “Bingo” at your prize.

Without a second thought you cracked the top off and swallowed back enough of the burning liquor to make your stomach tumble and your head fuzzy. Your throat had a pleasant enough burn and your initial mission was soon forgotten. Whoever owned this place was loaded, the exact opposite of you, who was working off an empty stomach.

You took a smaller, less greedy sip, as you began to wander the manor, feet numb to the coldness. There was interesting artwork scattered around the pristine white walls. Deep reds and brilliant royal blues. Windows that were covered in thick curtains and blocked your view of the pool. A grand piano that rested just adjacent to a large stone hearth, left unlit during the warmer months, you assumed.

Unbothered, you moved through the halls like a phantom. Not shoving things into your pockets, like you would have if you were interested in taking things. There was almost a calming trance that had taken over you with the aiding hand of the alcohol. You’d polished off a good bit of it by now. Besides, you hadn’t any pockets to push valuables into.

Dust didn’t coat any surfaces, your fingers dragging across countertops and the gilded edges of frames. Painted oil portraits that gave you pause, but did not turn you to stone as they should have. Your muscles were loose, and jaw even more loose, the spiced taste of cinnamon on your tongue.

Eventually, you found yourself in a library, scoffing as you skimmed the dark wooden bookcases brimming with all types of literature. Bound in gold and leather and tickling your senses with something akin to decay. One single book, you were sure, could sell for enough to cover your rent for at least a month. But you weren’t interested in that. No, you’d always had a soft spot for the written word.

You set the nearly-empty bottle of fireball on a coaster for posterity. Your fingers, long since un-pruned from being out of the water for so long, grasped onto a dark green book that was expertly bound. You pulled it from the shelf, testing the weight, dragging the pads of your fingers over the pages that were cut to perfection. It had been so long since you had held something of such prestige without the urgency to tuck it against your chest and zip a coat over it.

“In one moment, every drop of blood in my body was brought to a stop.”

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around the book. The world around you seemed to tilt but you had enough sense not to stumble back into the shelf behind you. Certainly not enough to stop your head from whipping up at a dizzying speeding. You wanted to hurl, swallowed the bile down, gripped the shelf all in one moment to steady yourself.

A girl- no, a woman- was standing predictably with a lit candle at the mouth of the library. She was a specter dressed in a white silk nightgown. Something that was once white, you supposed. It was stained in a darkness that you could smell over the liquor on your own breath as blood. It was smeared across her face, her lips and her fingers.

She had a tint to her cheeks that made her look human, and by god, you figured she was. Stunned and stupid and you stumbled half a drunken step because where was all the blood coming from? She had to be hurt. She wasn’t acting like she was hurt. No. This beautiful creature was entirely calm.

“There, as if it had that moment sprung out of the earth, stood the figure of a solitary Woman, dressed from head to foot in white” She continued speaking and you glanced down at the words on the cover of the book, not knowing what else to do. The candle had been set down and the flames reached the gold lettering on the front. “Wilkie Collins, if I’m not mistaken.”

You swallowed thickly, taking in the sight of her once more: the expanse of her legs, the height of her. The ethereal beauty. She reached for the bottle of fireball and polished off the rest, leaving a faint red ring where your mouth had been, clearly unsatisfied with what had been left.

“You’ve broken into my house.”

“Yeah, seems so. We interrupt something kinky?”

She laughed, a light an airy sound that somehow cut into your ears and sent a shiver down your spine. You nearly blacked out, stars forming in your eyes and taking over the majority of your vision. The woman was in front of you. Closer than just a moment ago. You hadn’t recalled her moving, nor the book exiting your hands but it wasn’t there anymore. How much had you had to drink?

Her teeth were sharper, shiner, up close.

“No, no. Not at all, doll. At least your friends at the decency to stay outside like the mutts they are.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, lady?”

She smirked at you, more of a snarl, her bloodied hand shooting out with unnatural speed to grip your jaw with startling strength. She was taller than you, wrenching your gaze to her own. You weren’t one to back down, not easily, but a whimper had escaped your lips at the feeling of her pure power. “Ah, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who broke into my house. You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone at such a deep disadvantage.”

You hiccupped, leaning into her cold touch “I wouldn’t call my drunken charm a disadvantage.”

This had never worked for you before, and you figured it wouldn’t work for you now. All you’d ever done was amp up law enforcement until they threw you in a cell, or aggravate a judge until they extended your sentence with the roll of their eyes. You never really minded because it meant a hot meal and a bed to sleep in, albeit a scratchy one.

She scrunched up her nose, loosened her grip a fraction. Your breath was stuttered, the middle shelf digging deliciously into your spine. She’d backed you into a corner, her leg slotted easily between both of yours. It was icy cold and pinned you down with ease. Her fingers trailed down your throat, stalling at your pulse point.

The woman’s nose pressed into the small of your neck. She breathed deeply, pressing herself flat against you. The coolness of her cut through your haze, if not for a moment. A groan pushed past your lips. She smelled sweetly of sage and of what you recognized as blood. The slick adhered to your bare stomach, mingled with the scent of chlorine.

One of her hands dragged down the length of your stomach, the other squeezing your hip. She hummed against your throat, a growl that seemed to penetrate you so wholly that you felt it vibrate in your bones. Your body betrayed you, head leaning to the side to expose your throat to her.

“Jesus Christ,” She rumbled, pulling herself back almost violently, digging her hand into the side of your neck. Her tepid grey stare. She panted chest-deep, searching your face with something akin to confusion. Another stunted snarl “Fuck.”

There was an overcast in your mind, something that flickered, a triggered response that screamed at you to run. This was your moment. But was it really? You couldn’t find your way out of the manor. You had stumbled drunkenly in here and now that that high was working it’s way out of you in a tangle of fear, there was nothing left to do but stay pinned under this woman. This creature. This demon.

She swallowed down something, her words, the lingering taste of blood, maybe whatever was holding her back from finishing you off. She stared at you, eyes the size of cue-balls, face stained in dried red pulp. Ever captivating. You trembled under her touch, waiting for her to make a move.

“If you’re waiting for me to beg, I won’t.”

“Beg?” She chuckled darkly “For what?”

“Fuck me. Kill me. Release me. Whatever you’re meant to do with me, just fucking do it.”

She clenched and unclenched her jaw in an almost methodical way. Your words weren’t exactly measured, nor were they resigned. They just were, ruminating as the fear dissipated and the reality took it’s place. You’d been stabbed once during your second time incarcerated, a rusted blade shoved between the sinew of your ribs. Once the pain had subsided, and the warmth of the initial spurt of blood dried to something cold, you were left with the reality of the wound. Much like now.

“Interesting,” She rasped, running her thumb over your pulse with the slightest of tilt to her head. “Your friends, they pleaded until their throats were raw for their lives. Yet you stand here in defiance at the very thought of getting on your knees for me. Why is that?”

“You strike me as someone who is used to getting what they want.”

She caged you in with another snarl, nose nudging against yours, you didn’t so much as flinch. “You strike me as someone with nothing to live for.”

You were effectively riling her up. It sent a thrill straight to your core. You should quit while you were ahead, but the dangerous stranger was right. There was nothing you had to lose but minimum wage at a shitty grocery store. This was exciting, and fun, and you might as well test your luck before your brutal death. “I don’t see how that complicates things for you.”

“Darling, I think you underestimate my pension for complicating things.” Again, she wretched your face closer to hers, grip strong, hand gripping your chin, teeth suddenly grazing your cheek. “It would be easy to kill you. Easier still, to fuck you. Destroying you? God. I would love nothing more.”

Your head was tilted to the side in a show of strength, her mouth on the side of your neck. The woman was not gentle with her intrusion, canine teeth breaking past tissue and muscle. You yelped in pain, hissed as her fingers dig into your hips with bruising strength. Her body pressed flush to yours was almost a calming balm.

For her harsh words, she was gentle, breath hot on the nave of your neck. She swallowed greedily, your balance beginning to waver. The more she drank, the better you felt. Naively, you clung to her, and she supported you. The silk of her nightgown slick under your fingertips. You were quickly losing consciousness.

The edges of your vision started to pulse around you, a gasp pulling past your lips and inflating your lungs with desperation. You were shocked at the tenderness she embraced you with as she pulled the life from you. Much too gentle for someone ushering in your demise.

The hangover that accompanied death was worse than anything you’d ever felt before. Nothing compared to downing the handle of liquor that you’d lifted from the dangerous strangers freezer, nor the pounding headache and the crick in your neck that you’d awoken with in a holding cell next to a half-naked woman named Sherri who patted your head comfortably.

Death lingered, and so did the twinge of discomfort from the canine teeth that dug into your jugular the night before. You screwed your eyes shut, refused to spring them open. Afraid of the prospect of light. The wounds had scabbed over and even the simple movement of your arm to your throat felt like a task that you did not want to repeat. Shoveling wet sand.

“I was beginning to think I had gone too far with you.”

Comfort be damned. That smooth voice made your head spin. You were alert and pushing yourself up from the comfort of your aloofness in moments. You were in a bed, using the heels of your feet to shove yourself into the headboard. She did not flinch from your flailing movements, just raised an infuriating eyebrow.

You were dressed now, at least. A t-shirt that smelled of her, of sage and the metal of blood. Your own, you presumed. Still, you clutched at the blankets that covered you as if you were indecent. Neither of you were. The room was shrouded in the same darkness as the rest of the home. Would you ever have the privilege of seeing light again?

“Here, you should… drink.” You couldn’t help but flinch when she reached to the side table and picked up a glass of water, guiding it to your hands. “You’ve been unconscious for a few days.”

The kindness of her actions was giving you whiplash, and you were not one to fall for Stockholm syndrome, but your throat was incredibly dry and you swallowed the entire glass down with a quickness that was almost embarrassing. She watched you carefully, but there was nothing else in the room to watch.

She’d changed out of her nightgown, into something more comfortable and less crusted with your friends gore. You wouldn’t necessarily call them friends, now that your haze had cleared. You’d met them the night before when you bummed a cigarette off one, and then the rest seemed to come along.

It jarred you, seeing the creature with pale skin and inhuman beauty wear an ACDC graphic t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. She looked soft in the dull light, and you felt it was to disarm you. Your exhale was crackling, fingers gripping the duvet.

“Hungover, huh? Yeah. The venom is a real bitch.” Something akin to sympathy flashed across vivid stormy eyes. “I get carried away sometimes. I’m Kate, by the way. Kate Bishop. Katherine.”

You blinked dumbly at her, holding your inhale in your chest until it burned. She was a bumbling mess. A stark difference from last night. There wasn’t confidence, nothing that pulled through form the headiness of her meal, it seemed. But you knew it was there. You couldn’t unsee the flash of red in her stare, the pointedness of her teeth. The fear and excitement that had rushed through you at her touch.

She seemed desperate to fill the silence your racing thoughts provided “You’ve got quite the record, y/n. I’m impressed.”

“You looked me up?”

It hurts to talk, unbelievably so. The water had only soothed the ache so much but you refused to show weakness in front of her. She tilted her head in curiosity, running her tongue subconsciously over the length of her teeth. You clocked a glimpse of their sharpness when she hummed.

“Of course. I’d like to know who I’m going to share my home with. I’ve taken the liberty of shadowing your criminal record, by the way. All of your records, actually.”

“I… what?”

You supposed maybe you had actually died with that spiced taste of cinnamon on your tongue and two teeth lodged in your neck. Erased from the world with the ease of a rich unhinged woman. It could be as simple as breaking through the wrong fence, drinking from the wrong bottle of alcohol and picking up the wrong book from the wrong shelf. She must have read the panic behind your eyes because she cooed sympathetically, condescendingly, at you.

“Your purpose, your only purpose, is to serve me.”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, body filling with an unbidden warmth. What had she called it before? Venom? It worked through you with a vicious pace. Hot and startling. Your veins lit up with devotion in a single moment and the rasp of her voice alone had you trembling to follow her orders.

You, of course, were not one to follow orders. It was in your nature to disobey and you grimaced, pulled away from her gaze and her power. She snorted. “You’ll fall ill if you fight it, pet.”

“You should have killed me.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” She let out a long sigh, running her perfectly manicured fingers over the dusty color of the duvet, as if she were bored. “Look, you challenged me last night. I don’t like to be challenged. I don’t like to be underestimated. Had you kept that pretty mouth of yours shut you’d be another meal like those smoke-tinged acquaintances of yours. But you didn’t. So I have no other choice but to teach you a lesson.”

“That’s it then, just two options, no middle ground?”

Kate let out a hum that morphed into something more of a growl that rumbled through her chest. She leaned forward, her arms on either side of you as you pressed yourself further into the backboard of the bed. There was an intricate design carved into the wood that you couldn’t make out, but you could certainly feel. She smelled pleasant and alluring.

She nosed into the edge of your jaw, and you sighed at the uncharacteristic warmth of her touch. Whatever she had done had brought something alive to her skin. Not the coolness that you felt the evening before. It was almost human. You felt the urge to pull her in closer, to press your lips to the plushness of hers. And her eyes- her goddamned eyes. They were the clearest thing in the room.

Your knees fell apart and she fit so easily between them, hovering over you, slotted like she belonged there all along. Your chest was heaving, her own breath soft and hot as it splayed against your cheek. “Do you know what I am?”

“I know what you’re capable of.”

“Yet, you continue to misbehave. Why is that?”

“It’s in my nature.”

“I suppose I can understand that.” She ghosted the words against your lips, punctuating them with nip against your bottom one. Her teeth were strong, drawing the metallic taste of blood and soothing it with her tongue. You sighed contentedly against them, mind hazing. “Don’t we feel so much better when we follow orders, though?”

Kate’s hand wicked into your hair, pulling back with enough force to make sure you looked her in the eye, but not enough to hurt you, voice raspy and firm with authority. “As my familiar, you will do nothing short of following orders. I refuse to award you with the mercy of death, sweet girl. You’re mine. We’re in this together, now.”

When she released you and removed herself from the room with a stealth that was inhuman, you found yourself with an unwanted ache. It was the venom of her bite, something she undoubtedly strengthened when she had dug them into your bottom lip moments ago. You could still taste your own blood against your tongue as you drew your knees to your chest.

Any argument died along with the lingering taste of yourself. Katherine Bishop knew no one would come looking for you. Another name that had been wiped away, another person who had vanished. You’d never made a lasting impression on anyone, had been cagey enough to push your friends away. Anyone without a penance for controlled substances had long since abandoned you.

It was just you and Kate.

She’d chosen wisely, and she knew it. Smug and rich, it seemed. You clenched your eyes shut and let the only two tears that dared to collect at your waterline slip down your cheeks in an unrivaled warmth. That was all you’d allow yourself. Anything else would be a sign of weakness.

You let your head fall back against the wooden headboard once more, eyes flicking to the pitcher of water on the bedside table. The empty glass that had a lip stain from your bloodied efforts. Resting snuggly under the lamp that rivaled the darkness was a book, bound in leather. A subtle comfort. A Woman in White.

[nhlclover]

BEGIN AGAIN SETH JARVIS

pairing: seth jarvis x fem!reader

summary: still scarred from your last relationship, you agree to go on a blind date and find yourself drawn to seth who reminds you that love doesn’t have to be painful.

warnings: mentions of a controlling/manipulative ex, reader being kinda insecure because of that

wc: 2.28k

notes: based on 'begin again' by taylor swift. so i wrote half of this last year and then gave up and then found it again! i don’t know

Looking at your reflection in the mirror of the sun visor of your car, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh. Despite the passed time, the wounds still felt fresh, the echoes of your past relationship lingering like smoke that refused to clear. You'd ended things eight months ago, walking away from fights that never resolved, from endless suspicions, and from a love that had twisted into something suffocating. Yet here you were, still carrying the weight of it all, the shadows of manipulation casting doubt over your future.

It was strange, almost cruel, how perfect he had seemed when you first met. Charming, attentive, and endlessly kind, he made you feel like you were the center of his universe. Those early days were painted with laughter and thoughtful gestures—flowers just because, long conversations where he seemed genuinely captivated by every word you spoke, and an uncanny ability to make you feel safe. You'd thought you’d found it — the elusive, storybook love.

But as time passed, the cracks began to show. Subtle at first, like a chill creeping into a warm room. His concern for your whereabouts turned into relentless questioning. His compliments, once sweet and affirming, grew barbed with hidden expectations. "You should wear this," he’d say, the suggestion laced with quiet judgment. He began isolating you, painting your friends as distractions and your ambitions as threats to your relationship. And somehow, little by little, you found yourself shrinking, folding yourself into the shape he demanded, just to keep the peace.

Even now, the memory of it made your chest tighten. You hated that his voice still lingered in your mind, sowing doubt just as you were meeting someone new. What if every man was like him beneath the surface? What if you were destined to be trapped in that same cycle, no matter how hard you tried to escape? The thought was enough to keep you rooted in this lonely limbo, terrified to step forward.

You closed the sun visor with a snap, forcing yourself back into the present. Not tonight. You weren’t going to let his memory ruin tonight.

Tonight was supposed to be a step forward, however small. Your friends had practically dragged you into this date, swearing up and down that the guy was different — kind, funny, and refreshingly normal. They'd given you the classic pep talk: You deserve to be happy. Not every guy is going to be like him. You have to let someone in eventually. You had rolled your eyes at their clichés, but a small part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, they were right.

You took a steadying breath, resting your hands on the steering wheel. The truth was, you didn't need this guy to be perfect. You didn't even need sparks or butterflies or some grand romantic epiphany tonight. You just needed him not to be him. That was the bare minimum you were willing to hope for right now.

And if he was kind, if he was genuine, if he listened without judgment — that would be a bonus. Maybe you wouldn’t fall in love tonight. Maybe this would end in polite smiles and a handshake at the end of the night. But wasn't that better than sitting in your car, haunted by the past?

“You’re not the same person anymore,” you whispered to your reflection, your voice soft but resolute. “You know what love isn't. And you won't let anyone make you feel small again.”

It was a promise. Not to the date, not even to your friends, but to yourself.

You pushed open the door of your car, the cool evening air spreading across your exposed legs allowing your heartbeat to slow to a normal rhythm. You approached the entrance of the restaurant, pausing as you gripped the door handle, heart thudding like a hesitant drumbeat.

The voice in your head whispered once more: What if this goes wrong too?

But tonight, you weren’t going to listen.

You pushed open the door, the soft chime announcing your arrival. Warmth enveloped you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The hostess greeted you with a polite smile, but you barely registered her as your eyes scanned the room. For a moment, fear gripped you — what if Seth wasn’t here? What if this was all just another disappointment waiting to unfold?

But then you spotted him.

Seth was sat at a table by the windows, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight. He was leaning slightly forward, fingers absently tracing the edge of his water glass as he glanced around the room. His dark hair was tousled in a way that suggested a hurried hand through it rather than meticulous grooming. There was something inherently relaxed about him, a stark contrast to the rigid expectations you'd grown accustomed to.

Relief mingled with surprise. He was on time.

You hadn’t realized how much that simple fact mattered until now. Your ex had always been late, offering flimsy excuses that eventually unraveled into truths you hadn’t wanted to see. Lateness had become a symbol of disregard, a subtle reminder that you were never quite enough to command his full attention.

But Seth was here, waiting for you.

You inhaled deeply, straightening your shoulders. This wasn’t the past. This was now.

“Welcome,” the hostess said, pulling you back to the present. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Yes,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected. “By the windows.”

She nodded and led you through the softly lit dining room. As you approached, Seth glanced up, and a smile broke across his face — easy, genuine, and warm. He stood up, smoothing down the front of his shirt, raising his hand and offering a small wave, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Hey,” he said. He had a slight nervous energy, as if he’d been wondering if you’d show. That vulnerability made something inside you loosen, the tight knot of apprehension unraveling just a bit.

“Hi,” you replied, your lips curving into a tentative smile.

He pulled out your chair, a simple but thoughtful gesture that caught you off guard. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be treated with care rather than obligation. As you sat down, he returned to his seat, his gaze never wavering from you.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, almost like it was a thought that slipped out before he could catch it.

A warmth crept up your neck. Compliments had always felt like weapons in the past, loaded with expectations or barbed with ulterior motives. But Seth’s words carried none of that weight. They felt simple and sincere, like a genuine observation rather than a demand for your approval.

“Thanks,” you said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing as though you’d cracked the ice that had been lingering between you. The tension in the air softened, giving way to an easy, tentative curiosity. This wasn’t a battlefield; it was just two people sharing a meal, and that realization was a relief.

The waitress arrived, handing you menus and reciting the specials before retreating, leaving the two of you enveloped in the soft hum of the restaurant. The candle flickered between you, its warm light casting shadows across the table.

“So,” Seth began, leaning forward with a smile, “do you want to start with the big questions or ease in with something light?”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. “What’s a big question?”

“Favorite dinosaur. It’s a make-or-break topic, really.”

“Stegosaurus,” you answered without hesitation.

“Solid choice,” he nodded approvingly. “But I’m gonna have to go with Triceratops. It’s got the perfect balance of cool factor and functionality.”

“I respect that.” You grinned. “We can stay friends.”

He tapped his glass with mock relief. “Thank God. I was worried this was going to be a disaster.”

The conversation flowed from there, naturally and without pretense. You talked about work, favorite childhood memories, and shared pet peeves. There was an ease to it all, as though you’d known each other longer than just tonight.

At one point, the topic shifted to music. Seth’s eyes lit up as he described his favorite records, and you found yourself matching his enthusiasm.

“I have a bit of a vinyl addiction,” you admitted, sipping your drink. “I probably have way too many James Taylor records.”

“Wait,” he said, setting down his fork. “How many is ‘way too many’?”

You shrugged. “Like… fifteen?”

His jaw dropped in playful disbelief. “Fifteen? That’s wild. I don’t think I’ve ever met another person with that many James Taylor records. I have ten, and I thought that was obsessive.”

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet someone who gets it,” you teased.

The waitress returned with your meals, and as you began eating, Seth launched into stories from his childhood. He spoke with vivid detail about growing up with his brother, recounting wild adventures that had you laughing until tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You told him about work and your hobbies, Seth listened with genuine attentiveness and interest in your stories. Slowly, the layers of doubt that had been cast by your ex began to peel away. Every little chuckle he gave out after a joke drowned out the memories of your ex’s cynical laugh.

Suddenly the night had flown by, Seth kindly paying for dinner, and now he was insisting on walking you to your car as you had to park a couple blocks down. His genuine concern was a stark difference from your ex's callous indifference.

As you strolled beneath the city lights, admiring the trees lining the street with Christmas lights woven between branches, Seth brought up the Christmas movies he and his family would watch every year. You found your mind once again comparing the toxicity of your ex to Seth, who had just about changed your opinion about men. Before you nearly brought him up, Seth pulled you back to the moment.

“Every year on Christmas Eve we watch the original How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Like the animated one.” He tells you, a pure and childlike smile tugging on his lips.

You smiled back, a warmth in your heart you had forgotten was something you could experience. The night had been a stark departure from the toxic patterns of your past. As the pair of you approached your car, you finally felt the tightness in your chest subsiding, any feelings of what once was gone now.

Seth paused by your car, his breath visible in the crisp night air. The city hummed softly around you, the distant sound of car horns mingling with laughter from nearby restaurants. He shifted on his feet, the faint glow of the streetlights catching the warmth in his eyes.

“I had a really great time tonight,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

“So did I,” you admitted, the honesty rolling off your tongue without hesitation. “I wasn’t sure I was ready for this, but… tonight was good. Really good.”

His smile widened, his relief evident. "That makes me happy to hear." He hesitated, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "And, hey, no pressure or anything, but I'd love to see you again.”

The vulnerability in his voice hung between you, delicate yet inviting. For a moment, you were silent, the weight of your past teetering on the edge of your thoughts. But tonight had been different—a beginning rather than a replay of old wounds.

You glanced up at Seth, his hopeful expression etched with authenticity, and your heart made the choice your mind had been too cautious to consider.

"I'd like that too," you said softly, a smile forming without resistance.

His face lit up, and the sight stirred something gentle and warm inside you, like sunlight filtering through cracks in a wall you'd thought impenetrable. The breeze tugged at your hair, crisp and sharp, but you barely felt it with the warmth spreading through your chest.

He took a step closer, close enough that you could catch the faint scent of cedar and fresh soap lingering on him. "I’ll text you then. And I promise I’m not one of those ‘wait three days’ guys." His tone was playful, but there was a thread of earnestness beneath it.

You laughed, the sound unguarded. "Good. Because that rule is ridiculous."

He grinned, the kind that was contagious and disarming. "Agreed."

There was a beat of silence, the world around you quieting into something hushed and intimate. For the first time in a long time, the echoes of your past didn't press against your ribs, demanding to be heard. They had no place here, not in this moment, not with this man who stood in front of you without expectation or pretense.

"Drive safe," he said, stepping back but lingering as though reluctant to let the night end.

“Thank you, Seth.” you say softly.

Seth gave you a small wave before turning to walk back down the street, his figure illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights. For a long moment, you stood there, the world hushed and still. Your breath clouded in the frigid air, heart thrumming with a strange mix of peace and disbelief.

This wasn’t where you thought you'd end up eight months ago when everything had shattered. Back then, love had felt like a cruel joke — something that only broke, burned, and eventually ended. You’d sworn off the idea entirely, resigned to believe that its weight was always suffocating, its promises empty.

But tonight was proof that you’d been wrong.

Standing beneath the winter sky, you realized you'd just watched love begin again.

[hrtwayne]

Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Two]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

It was barely seven in the morning when Y/n Lancaster sat up in bed, her eyes still heavy and her cheek slightly marked by the pillow. She stretched for a few seconds before finally getting up and starting her old work routine. Y/n felt her mind wandering through the negative possibilities about her return to football, about how fans and the media might not like her performance on the field.

Y/n knew it was her anxiety speaking louder, and that she should go back to consulting with the team psychologist. She sighed audibly as she packed some extra clothes in her bag, along with an extra pair of socks and shin guards. Six months away had been a true chaos of disorganization and stress. Y/n zipped up her bag before finally heading to the bathroom to relax with a hot shower.

Little by little, her routine was returning to normal. It had been just over three days since Y/n had been reintroduced to training with the rest of her teammates. She was relieved at the prospect of at least playing the second half of the game in the middle of the month, and that could be the first moment to find out if it was worth moving to a completely different country than the one she was used to.

Y/n took a generous sip of juice, savoring the moment as if it were her last breakfast in London. The defender bit into a piece of freshly baked bread and sighed contentedly at the familiar taste. She needed a few minutes of calm before hearing the slightly scandalous voices of the players and the strange atmosphere between Leah and her.

The defender entered the training center wearing Prada sunglasses and her faithful Adidas tracksuit in the team's colors. Y/n smiled in the direction of the team's media staff—it was no secret that Y/n was a real favorite among the fans, especially the younger ones who followed her on social media.

As she entered the space reserved for storing her belongings, Y/n's expression closed when she saw the team captain with a fixed and completely indifferent look in her direction. Leah and Y/n had had a relatively turbulent history—it couldn't be considered a relationship, but it also couldn't be treated as a casual fling. The breakup had been complicated, which seemed to shake the chemistry on and off the field between the players. Y/n definitely wasn't the jealous or combative type, but the last two months of that strange relationship had made her discover a frightening side of herself.

The breakup had been the right decision to make. Y/n didn't feel happy or satisfied with the direction of that strange relationship. She was a grown woman, well-resolved and with a successful career. She wasn't willing to be someone's pastime or indecision—she wanted something serious, with a guaranteed future or at least an attempt at one.

"Good morning, Lancaster. They called you to the meeting room," one of the girls from the management team said, making the midfielder frown for a few seconds.

Y/n followed the dark-haired girl to a room reserved for meetings about renewals or possible transfers.

"Y/n, we were waiting for you," one of the club's directors said, shaking the player's hand. "As you know, your contract was set to expire at the end of 2024 with a renewal clause if you met certain goals. Those were met, but with your injury, it was relatively hard to believe your knee would fully recover."

Y/n sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.

"We've received seven offers from some European teams and two Brazilian teams that wanted to sign you," he began, placing a stack of papers on the table. "Your agent filtered the best offers and left it up to you to choose your future for the next few years."

Y/n picked up the documents, seeing the familiar logos: Chelsea, Manchester City, Lyon, Real Madrid, Atlético Madrid, and finally, Barcelona. Y/n's eyes widened when she saw the million-dollar offer from the Catalan team—she would earn triple what she made at Arsenal for a period of three seasons with the option to renew.

"I received the email from Barcelona weeks ago and spent some days thinking about the offer. It's been a few years since I belonged to this team... and I think everyone is aware of that. If necessary, I'll choose Barcelona's offer and leave the team today," Y/n stated, observing the way the directors tried to hide their shock. "I grew up watching Arsenal with my dad, but I think my time here is over."

The middle-aged man sighed wearily, with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"We'll process the termination contract and inform Barcelona's management that you've accepted the offer," the man replied, hearing her sigh in contentment and stand up to leave.

Y/n looked at her agent, and the blonde woman immediately knew she was about to get an hours-long lecture.

With a slightly reluctant sigh, Y/n entered her mother's house with a couple of extra coats due to the sudden change in London's weather. She hung her overcoat on the rack while hearing some voices coming from the kitchen, most likely from Haley and Aliyah, her younger sisters.

Y/n softened her closed expression the moment she felt the warm arms of her mother. The maternal touch was an obvious sign that Y/n was tired and shaken by the painful departure from her team, the place where she had been discovered and celebrated. Y/n allowed herself to relax and cry copiously in the arms of Angela Lancaster, the woman who always knew exactly what to say or do.

Shhh, I know it hurts, my love," Angela whispered, stroking the player's hair.

It wouldn't be the first or last time Y/n would run to the warm embrace of her mother. It had been like this with her first heartbreak, her first scraped knee, her first victory or failure, her breakup with Leah, or her fight with Alessia after a loss in the Euros. Y/n would always turn to the one person who knew the right words to say.

"I'm leaving for Barcelona this weekend," Y/n said, wiping the tears from her cheek.

"At least you'll be close to some teammates. Maybe it's the best place for you to start over," Angela replied in a comforting tone. "And you know the captain, right?"

Alexia?" Y/n asked, with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. "I've talked to her a few times, but nothing major."

"But it's something, dear," Angela adjusted the dark strands, making the defender sigh. "You know that living with your 'ex' wasn't doing you any good, my love."

The defender bit her lower lip, knowing the older woman was right about that subject.

"Now go sit with your sisters in the living room. I feel like they're going to miss you for the next few months," Angela gently pushed the girl, making Y/n laugh softly.

[the-sin-hole]

headrush

stanxreader flashfic, 1k words gender neutral, smoking, no warnings apply

+++

“I don’t give a shit what Saturn looks like,” Stan says, trying to sound abrasive, but the smile forming around the unlit cigarette between his lips betrays him. “S’far as I’m concerned what happens up there is nunna my business ‘til some aliens come down here and try to abduct me.”

You’re standing in the yard of the Mystery Shack under a sea-dark sky slathered in bright white pinholes. Stan threw another party at the Shack and most of the cleaning fell to you two. A month ago you’d expect him to order the kids do it. But you’ve watched him soften over the weeks since they came, and tonight he only made them clean up half of all the spilled drinks and tracked-in dust and scattered confetti before allowing them to call it a night. He toothlessly harangued you to stay late and help under the guise of owing him one after letting you drink all the Pitt from his fridge yesterday, but you didn’t need convincing. It was enough just to spend one on one time with him.

After doing a perfectly respectable half-assed cleaning job, the two of you retired to sit on the porch for some well earned smokes. Stan quit for the sake of the kids, but sometimes he can’t help himself from bumming a stray or two from you. You handed him one before he even asked as you stepped outside into the warm summer night air. You were immediately struck by the sky, letting in a small gasp of air at the sight of so many clear stars. You pulled Stan by the crook of his arm into the grass with you and started pointing out the celestial entities you were familiar with. Stan wasn’t looking at any of it. His eyes were fixed on you.

Your voice faltered as you pointed out Saturn, when your eyes darted back to him and found his gaze. It was unreadable. Part of you thought, if you tried really hard, you could see something in that gaze that looked a little soft. The thought made something in your gut writhe.

You broke the eye contact, instead putting the cigarette in your mouth and holding up your lighter to its end. It took a few spins of the flint wheel but it lit, and you pulled in the meager flame, sucking the filter several times in quick succession to let the heat gain purchase before letting the lighter falter. You handed it to Stan, risking regained eye contact and catching his small smile just as he claimed his indifference to the stars.

You snort and roll your eyes at the bold proclamation. “Oh wowwww, mister cool guy here is too big and tough to care about the vast wonder of space, huh?”

“You better believe it,” he replies, tilting his head down to meet the lighter in his hand and shifting the cigarette between his teeth at the front of his mouth. He spins the wheel a couple times to no avail, a little harder each time, furrowing his brow as he repeats his attempts. “What’s space ever done for me, anyway?”

You smile as you pull on your cigarette. He makes a frustrated “Eh” as more clicks of the lighter prove fruitless. His eyes dart up and he looks at you through his thick grey brows— his gaze is once again unreadable, but it sends something through you. He’s been doing that to you a lot, lately. Just being close to him can make your heart beat fast, something that at first was highly frustrating, but now you can’t help yourself from chasing the small highs, each casual graze against his arm or lingering eye contact feeling just as good as a deep inhale of fiberglass and nicotine.

You’re about to interrupt your current inhale to ask why he’s looking at you when his eyes dart down to your lips.

He reaches a hand up and lightly grabs your jaw, four fingers on one side, thumb on the other. You feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. Heat radiates from that gut punch through your entire body in an instant. The two fingers you had gently resting on either side of the filter in your mouth twitch, almost flinging the cigarette out of your mouth entirely. His eyes are cast down, not looking you in the face, which you’re grateful for, as you’re sure you look ridiculous. You can feel your eyes widening, the heat flooding your face.

Stan leans in. The smoke you just inhaled is now caught swirling in your lungs as you hold your breath. He positions the tip of his cigarette to yours, the fingers grasping your jaw tightening just a little bit to make sure you don’t throw off the alignment. He purses his lips and draws in the heat, igniting it. He could pull away now, if he wanted. But he draws just a few more times. After seconds that stretch into an eon he slowly leans back. He leaves the fingers on your jaw for just a moment longer than he needs to. Just long enough to send another punch to your gut.

His hand finally leaves you, moving to the filter in his mouth, ready to take it once he’s finished his first long drag. He straightens up and finally meets your eyes once again. You’re still holding your breath. He removes the cigarette from his lips and exhales through his nose, the smoke coming out in great furls. You can see a slight smile behind the smokescreen as he says,

“Space is for suckers. I got everything I need right down here.”

You finally pull the filter from your mouth. His eyes dart down quickly to watch you let out a deep exhale, smoke spilling from your lips as they twist into a smile. The windless night lets the smoke hang in the air between you, small plumes lazily intertwining. When his eyes find yours again, there’s no mistaking it. His gaze is soft.

[blkdaddie]

Undeniable - A Super Bowl Story

Nate Harland had spent his entire life building walls.

Walls between himself and his players, between himself and the press, between himself and anything remotely personal. He had perfected the art of the unreadable expression, the clipped responses, the kind of cold, sharp authority that made men twice his size fall in line.

That discipline, that control, had made him one of the most respected head coaches in the NFL. It had carried him through a relentless, punishing career. It had made him untouchable.

And then, Jaxon Reed had ruined everything.

Because for all of Nate’s discipline, all of his careful detachment, he had made one mistake.

A mistake that was now growing inside him, stretching the skin of his abdomen, shifting in his ribs, pressing down on his lungs when he paced the sidelines too long.

A mistake that had a father—a loud, arrogant, reckless quarterback who was far too involved and nowhere near careful enough. And, much to Nate’s frustration, refusing to let this go.

------

Nate had done his best to keep it under wraps.

The press hadn’t noticed, at least. As far as they were concerned, he was just “bulking up,” maybe carrying a little stress weight, nothing worthy of a scandalous headline.

The team was another story.

Jax had convinced himself that he was the only one who knew. That they were keeping this between them, this secret confined to stolen moments in locker rooms, whispered arguments in Nate’s office, encounters so intense and reckless that they left Jax burning for days afterward.

But one day, Jax saw it.

The shift.

The way other people moved around Nate.

It was subtle, practiced, ingrained.

The thing about teamwork is that it depends on each member showing up for the others, whether they’ve asked for help or not.

The linemen forming an instinctive barrier when players ran too close on the sidelines. The equipment staff leaving extra protein bars in Nate’s office without being asked. The quiet way a water bottle would always appear at his elbow, a chair set nearby just in case—even though Nate never used it, never acknowledged it.

They know.  They were protecting him.

And Jax—who had spent months thinking he was alone in carrying this weight, alone in watching out for him—suddenly realized the truth.

But all this time, the team was with him. Backing him up. Doing their part to get Nate and the baby to the end zone.

------

Jax’s hands are magic; broad and firm and sure. The hands that catch and run. The hands that throw a perfect spiral 20 yards. The hands that find their way to Nate’s belly in quiet moments, coaxing the baby to kick and roll.

The hands that wander beyond the bump, crossing boundaries and pulling moans and pleas and curses from Nate’s mouth.

In a quiet locker room, sliding around Nate’s waist, pressing low, right under the belly, pulling him back against a solid chest.

Pulling Nate into the backseat of Jax’s Hummer EV 3x, worshipping his 27 week pregnant body, caressing every new hill and valley until they are both writhing and sweating and breathless. Tugging closed the blinds of Nate’s office, gripping plush 30 week pregnant hips, setting an absolutely brutal pace as he pounds out the adrenaline of a playoff win. Nate should be mad. But in quiet moments those hands gather him close, massaging in belly butter and telling stories to their growing child, and he doesn’t know how to pull away.

------

By the time they reached the Super Bowl, Nate was eight and a half months pregnant and holding on by sheer willpower.

His body ached constantly. His balance was off. He could barely get through practice without feeling like he had a bowling ball pressing on his lungs.

But he wasn’t stepping back.

He wouldn’t.

This was his job. His team. His life.

And so, he stood on the sidelines like always, arms crossed over his chest, yelling plays into the headset, pretending like everything was fine.

Jax wasn’t fooled.

The moment they took the field, he was watching Nate, scanning him between every play, his jaw tight, his movements sharper.

And then, as the second quarter came to a close, Jax saw it.

The tension in Nate’s shoulders. The way his breath caught, just slightly. The way his fingers curled, pressing against the curve of his belly for only a second before he forced them away.

Jax knew what that was.

And when they went into halftime, when Nate stood in front of the team, mapping out strategy for the next two quarters, Jax saw him white-knuckle the marker as a contraction hit.

Jax didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

But when the third quarter started, when Jax took his place behind center, he did something different.

Instead of looking at the defense—

He turned his head and stared directly at Nate.

Unwavering.

A full-on, pointed stare-down.

A message, loud and clear.

I know.

Nate’s lips pressed together, his jaw tight. His glare was sharp, warning, back off, Reed.

Jax didn’t blink.

And when the ref blew the whistle, he turned back to the game, pissed, wired, focused—

Because if Nate wasn’t going to admit what was happening, then Jax was just going to win this fucking game in record time so he could force the issue later.

------

Twelve minutes.

Jax had twelve minutes left in the game, to finish what he started.

Twelve minutes. And then he would go meet his child.

He almost blew it. Saw Nate press a fist against his stomach, the way he tensed. The pain had spiked, his expression had wavered, his breathing had changed—and Jax had caught it.

Jax called a timeout that nobody wanted, jogging to the sidelines, prepared to wage a totally different battle if that meant sending Nate to the hospital. .

And instead of denying it, instead of brushing him off, Nate had finally, finally admitted it in his own way.

“The baby deserves a Super Bowl winner for a father.”

The words hit Jax like a sledgehammer.

Because Nate had never called him that before. And just like that, everything changed.

For the first time ever, Jax had a reason bigger than himself.  Every play was perfect; the pivots were sharper, the hits were harder, and the throws were laser direct.

Jax won that game.

Took his team down the field, broke the defense, scored the game-winning touchdown.

Then he ran.

Not to the trophy. Not to the press -  to Nate.

Who was already being loaded onto a stretcher, who was gripping his stomach, whose face was drawn tight with pain.

“I’m coming with you,” Jax told him, his voice urgent, his hands already reaching for him.

Nate let out a breathless, pained laugh. “You have a press conference to do.”

Jax pressed his forehead against Nate’s temple. “Fuck the press.”

____

It happened in hours—long, agonizing, brutal hours.

Jax had never felt so helpless.

All he could do was be there, wrapping himself around Nate from behind, holding him steady, whispering into his ear.

“You got this.” “I’m right here.” “I love you.”

And then— A cry.

A tiny, perfect, new sound.

Jax’s breath caught.

Because there, paced on Nate’s chest, blinking up at the world with unfocused eyes—was their daughter. Emerson “Emmy” Reed-Harland.

Jax couldn’t breathe. She was real, and here, and theirs.  Jax couldn’t do anything but stare at her, at Nate, at the absolute miracle that had just happened.

And Nate—exhausted, wrecked, holding their child so carefully—

Looked at Jax like he had just won everything.

Football was never the most important thing.

This was. This always would be.

[procyonloser]

"Everything is looking good so far," the doctor said with a big smile, pulling the wand off Adam's stomach. There wasn't much to show yet in regards to baby bumps, but finally seeing the little bean in there was odd. After the months it took to set everything up, and the few months it took him to actually get pregnant, it felt like Adam had been waiting for this forever.

Adam walked out of the appointment in a relatively good mood, but his sister was a bit more stony faced in that regard, (though, when wasn't she?)

"So, why'd Lucifer miss the appointment. He was sending me like a million fuckin' texts about it and the baby. He's already in full dad mode." Adam mused with a half smile as he passed by the maternity ward doors. He'd be in there eventually, popping out a watermelon.

"I don't want him contacting you so much." Lilith said, voice low and still. "He's more focused on all of this, than he is... He needs to focus on his work."

Adam glanced over at her, taking in her expression. She'd been a bit pale throughout the ultrasound, and honestly throughout the whole process.

"When we were kids, I used to play with dolls, and army men, and stuffed animals." Adam started talking slowly, thinking back on him smashing his toys into her Legos. "You never liked kids all that much, did you?"

Lilith said nothing, but the line of her lips thinned.

"How much of this was your idea?" Adam asked, slowing to a stop in the maze of the hospital hallway. Lilith took a few steps passed him, but eventually she too stopped moving.

"... Lucifer and I were in a rough spot, and started doing couples counseling. He'd always said he wanted kids, but I never thought it would be an issue, since I can't give birth, obviously. But, the counselor got us talking about it, more in earnest." Lilith explained softly, more open with him than she'd been in a very long time. "I just want him to be happy, even if there are... initial birthing pains."

Adam stared at her, and some small part of him felt a familiar burn inside his chest. The familial need to protect his sister if she was upset. But, Lilith was an adult, she'd made her choice, and that choice was literally fucking inside of Adam. Not to mention, Lucifer hadn't been anything but enthusiastic about the kid, and now she was barring him from being an excited parent?

Or, was it the same old poison? She didn't want Lucifer's attention on Adam.

"Get your shit together, Lilith, or you'll end up a shitty fucking parent." Adam said, brushing past her to continue down the hall.

"That's rich, coming from you." She bit back. Making Adam pause, pondering the urge to punch her right in the nose, before he continued walking. Using Abel against him was real goddamn low, even for her.

Being a surrogate wasn't all bad, Adam thought to himself. Sure, everytime he had to speak to his sister, he wanted to bite Lilith's ear off her head, but there were moments like these ones that brought a smile to his face.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" The woman behind the counter asked pleasantly enough, but Adam wasn't exactly a pleasant person.

"I'd have to ask my sister what she wants to name it, since it's her child." Adam answered with a grin, hand over his rounded belly. He felt the kid kick under his fingers, it always seemed to be the most active when Adam was actively being a bastard to someone. He liked to think it was laughing in there.

The face the woman made as Adam took his groceries and walked off made everything worth it.

Well, maybe he'd miss it, but Adam didn't want to entertain those thoughts. He was getting paid enough by Lilith and Lucifer to last him a lifetime, just to have the little devilspawn. Plus, after him and Eve fell apart, it's not like he wanted to act like a parent ever again.

It was just a lot of heart ache.

The baby moved again, and Adam couldn't help but clench his fingers over his stomach. He wondered what it would be named, if it would know who he was as it grew up, or if it would see pictures of him and look at it with no recognition.

Adam sat in his car for awhile longer, staring up at the darkening sky.

He'd already signed the agreement, he couldn't back out now, not when half this kid was Lucifer's baby batter. He couldn't just say no, I'm keeping it. Not without getting sued into the streets.

"I hope she doesn't name you something stupid, but I guess that isn't any of my problem." Adam said to himself, blinking his eyes hard to will away any stinging feeling in them, before he pulled out of the parking lot.

[kingprinceleo]

hi its fic time let me rizz you guys up to read it

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

Based on this art piece !!!