#thought again and tried to help even so- and that is for me is who michael truly is- past present and future- trying his best for himself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eufezco · 2 days ago

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A FRESH START 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis — after leaving wakanda, bucky starts to rediscover who he is while living with you, slowly bulding a new life. his dispair deepens and you offer him a fresh start with a simple act: cutting his hair.

angst. fluff

—you have to stop thinking that every time something good is happening to you it's because something worse is on the way. that´s not a way to live, buck —. you said softly, your voice steady but with a hint of concern.

bucky shook his head, running a hand over his face as a sign of desperation. if only he could remember what life felt like before hydra took him, before all those wasted years. after so long he was still trying to figure it out, still trying to find a version of himself that didn’t feel like a stranger. trying to get used to his new life in the city, far from the peace he had known in wakanda. all these sudden changes only made him more confused and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to adjust, it was that he didn’t know how.

it had been a almost a year since bucky had moved in with you, since you had defeated thanos and steve had left. when the dora milaje declared him ready to live a normal life, bucky stood there, unsure of what that even meant. he had no place to go. louisiana crossed his mind for a moment, sam had always extended an open invitation but the thought of intruding on sam’s family life stopped him, and steve was gone, something he chose not to think much about, so for the first time in over a century, bucky was truly on his own.

except he wasn’t. you were there.

when you found out he needed a place, you didn’t think about it twice. he resisted at first. ayo told him you were the right person to star building his new life. you trust her, you trust her more than you admit. that is where you begin. trust. she is the right person to help you build this new life, james.

and he couldn't remember what you two had shared before hydra took him, before everything fell apart but there was a pull. by the things steve told him, you three were best friends once, inseparable. he spoke of nights you spent laughing, of how he’d head home early, leaving you and bucky behind, knowing that bucky would arrive later, with a big smile on his lips. steve chuckled when he mentioned your lipstick, smeared on bucky’s mouth when he finally made it back. you never wiped it off, you wore it like a badge of honor.

bucky tried to imagine it, those moments of joy but the memories never came. but he could still feel it. he felt it that day in wakanda, when you arrived with steve and natasha to fight thanos. you smiled at him, just a brief moment in the chaos, but it stayed with him. there was something so familiar about that smile, something warm and he felt it too every time you visited him or sent him what had once been his favorite sweets, little reminders of a life he no longer remembered but somehow still carried with him.

so, he showed up at your door a few days later, a bag hung over his shoulder and a sad look in his eyes. he didn't try to argue this time. —you sure about this?

you didn’t hesitate. —absolutely.

living with bucky was easy. he was quiet, he didn't need much space. after months, he started making it his place too, little by little. he left his shoes by the door beside yours, the book he picked up from one of your shelves appeared on the coffee table, his leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

—it's not that easy —. he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

you watched him. —i know it’s not, —you said softly, stepping closer to him. —but you don’t have to do it all at once. no one expects that from you.

he shook his head again. —feels like they do, —he said, his blue eyes looking directly into yours. you could see the sadness and the guilt of the moments he couldn’t take back. —feels like every time i mess up, it’s just proof that i don’t belong here. as if this life was not made for me —his voice was low, barely more than a murmur. —what if the only thing i'm good at is killing?

you took a deep breath. it was hard to hear him say that, to see the man you’d known before hydra, who was your best friend and the love of your life, now drowning in self-doubt and guilt. —you’re more than what they made you.

—am i? because that’s all i’ve ever done. all i know how to do.

—but it’s not who you are, it’s what they forced you to be. the fact that you’re even asking this? that you’re fighting to be someone better? that’s proof enough that that wasn't you at all.

he closed his eyes tightly and ran his hands through the long strands of his hair. for a moment, you just stood there, watching him. you wanted to pull him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him, but you hesitated, ayo told you to do so, to let him space to feel this, to fight against it, even if it hurt.

—i can still feel him inside my head, i can hear his thoughts. he's not gone.

bucky’s fingers suddenly grabbed the roots of his hair with a little more force. his breathing grew faster, his hands shook and his eyes squeezed shut. you couldn't see how deep his pain was and not do anything to stop him from hurting himself.

you stepped closer. —bucky, hey… —your hands sneaked into his hair, softly pulling his grip from his scalp. his hands were trembling, and for a moment, there was resistance in him like he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of the only thing he could hold onto. but your touch was soft, familiar and something shifted, almost imperceptible, but you could feel the tension in him loosen.

—the bucky i knew isn’t gone. he’s still in there. i see him every time you fight for something good, every time you try to make amends, every time you care about the people around you, about me.

his shoulders fell, and his head hung low, he didn’t want you to see him like this, weak and broken. but you had seen him in his darkest moments as the winter soldier and you had experienced thanos taking him away from you with the blip. the years without him had been a painful, you thought you lost him forever. yet there he was, standing before you, alive, and you weren’t about to let him go again.

your hands gently moved to push the back of his head, guiding him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he was still a bit unsure about how to handle this type of physical contact, used to years of torture, where touch always meant pain, control, or something to fear. now you held him close to your body, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

—why don’t i cut your hair?

—cut my hair?

—yeah, it´ll help you to see yourself in a different way. a fresh start.

bucky pulled back a little, he wasn’t sure if you were joking. —you think cutting my hair will fix everything?

you smiled softly, you wished it could be that easy. —no, —you admitted. —but ayo told your new life will be built on small things.

bucky sighed.

the idea of letting go parts of himself that tied him to the winter soldier felt like a whole world. first, it was his metal arm, the one with the red star, when tony ripped it off of him, bucky felt relieved, like tony was cutting one of the heads of the hydra to end the monster. in wakanda, he learned to live using only his flesh-and-blood arm until they gave him a new one which he only intended to use for good.

and now you were asking to cut his hair.

—ayo did say that, didn’t she? —he murmured, almost to himself.

—she’s a smart woman and besides, it’s just a haircut. if you hate it, it’ll grow back.

a small smile appeared in his lips. —if it ends up bad, i’m blaming you.

you took a chair from the kitchen to the bathroom and he sat down in front of the mirror. bucky stared at his reflection as he pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. he didn't like mirrors, he avoided them as much as he could. he didn't like the person staring back at him, he didn't know who that man was and now sitting on that chair there was no escape.

there was a difference this time. next to one of the things he most hated to look at—his reflection—was one of the things he liked the most to look at—you.

his blue eyes moved from his reflection to yours. you stood behind him and ran your hands gently through his hair. he felt that familiar tickle in his stomach, the one he first felt almost a century ago and that, even after all the years, it hadn't gone away.

he felt it every morning when you entered the kitchen, hair a mess from sleep, mumbling a soft “good morning” to him. he felt it when he came home in the evenings and dinner was ready and you were sitting at the table, waiting for him. he felt it most when you would fell asleep on the couch and he had to carry you to your bed, careful not to wake you. and you'd ask him in your sleep to stay, and he'd freeze, he wanted to say yes, he wanted to stay. but he couldn’t risk it, his nightmares were still too real. so bucky would gently place you in your bed, making sure you were well tucked in, and whisper, i’ll be in my room, if you need anything.

—are you ready? —you asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. you already had the scissors in your hand and bucky shifted in the chair at the sight of them. —it'll be okay, buck.

—feels like more than just a haircut.

you nodded, understanding. —well, that's what we wanted, isn't it?

bucky swallowed and nodded.

—why don't you close your eyes? i'll let you know when i'm done.

with a deep breath, he did as you said. your lips curved into a small smile even though he could no longer see you. you were aware of all the progress he had made. you knew he trusted you with his heart because on no other occasion he would willingly keep his eyes closed with someone standing behind him, scissors in hand and when your hands rested on his shoulders, he hadn’t flinched at the contact.

—okay, i'll start.

with his eyes closed it was much easier to feel the delicacy with which you treated him. the way your fingers combed through his scalp and then the sound of the scissors, followed by the sensation of the strands falling and taking with them the weight he had carried for so long. and you talked, about anything that crossed your mid so he did not feel that he was in danger or he had to be alert at any time.

—maybe we could get a cat, —you said. —i think it’d be nice. do you think you’d be a good cat parent?

—maybe —. he said after a pause. —i definitely prefer a cat to a dog.

you switched to the clippers, you left the hair at the top of his head a little longer, while the rest of it was cut shorter. a very chic haircut for someone born in 1917. you carefully checked that his hair was even and then you styled it with your fingers.

—okay, i'm done, you can open your eyes.

bucky hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes. your breath caught in surprise as you watched him take in the sight of himself. it was like having the bucky you once knew staring right at you through the mirror. his features were the same, just a bit more more defined and mature.

he felt the same relief as when tony ripped off the metal arm that hydra embedded in his body, like a part of him that had once been used against him, now freed. he turned his head slowly to both sides to get a better look and to be honest, he liked his new look. physically, he could see the resemblance to the man in the photos you had shown him, the young soldier who smiled to you, in love.

—how do you feel? i think it suits you —. you asked gently.

bucky nodded. —i like it —. he caught your gaze in the mirror. the eye contact was so intense that you had to look away. you cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

—alright, come on, —you tapped his shoulder for him to stand up. — i'm going to sweep your hair off the floor.

bucky got up from the chair and turned his head to look at you, not through the mirror this time, but directly, and the sudden closeness made your breath hitch. —thank you for doing this.

—you don't need to thank me, buck. i'm glad it turned out well, it was my first time doing it.

—you sure about that? —he asked—it doesn’t feel like it was your first time.

you laughed, still avoiding his gaze. —guess we got lucky, then.

there was a silence; you were both too close, but not close enough yet. bucky’s eyes moved to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your heart race. you could both feel the tension, an invisible string pulling you toward each other, daring one of you to close the gap. you didn’t want to take the first step, you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for, the last thing you wanted was to break the fragile trust he’d built with you.

you opened your mouth to say something but he talked first.

—can i kiss you? —his voice was low, almost shy.

you were surprised because you didn't expected him to ask so directly, but consent was so important to him. he spent too many years under someone else’s control, forced into actions that weren’t his own, and now he was determined never to cross those lines. it wasn’t just about asking to kiss you, it was about making sure that you were comfortable, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

—yeah, —you whispered —you can.

bucky stepped closer, his flesh-and-blood hand reaching to cup your cheek, his fingers gently brushing against your skin. he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned into him instead, your lips finally meeting his.

he felt strange. he had wanted to kiss you for what felt like forever, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do next. his mind raced, trying to remember how this was supposed to go. he forgot about kissing, forgot about the rhythm of it, the give and take. his hand slipped from your cheek to fall awkwardly at his side as he pulled away from your lips just enough just to say:

—i don't... i don't remember how to do this.

—it's okay. you're doing just fine. there’s no right or wrong way. just… follow me.

this time, when your lips met, you moved slowly, guiding him. his tension disappeared as he mirrored your movements, his right hand returned to your cheek, the other, his metal one, moved to hold your hips. it wasn’t perfect, the movements of his lips were still hesitant, but there was something honest about the way he kissed you.

as he kissed you, bucky became more aware of his body and where his hands were and realized that his metal hand was resting lightly on your waist. he pulled the hand away quickly. —i'm sorry, i didn't mean to...

you shook your head, one of your hands flew to the back of his neck to connect your lips while your other one grabbed his vibranium arm and guided his hand to where it was before. as the kiss deepened, you felt him relax, stop worrying about whether he was doing it right or wrong, about the touch of his cold hand on your skin, and he just kissed you.

you hummed before parting ways. his cheeks were flushed, his lips were a bit swollen and glossy, his breathing a little uneven and you couldn't help a little laugh from escaping your lips.

—okay, now you're just laughing at me.

—you're so cute, buck.

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cowboybeepboop · 3 days ago

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Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs.

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever.

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt.

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place.

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee.

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers."

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression.

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly.

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.."

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift.

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you.

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with."

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse.

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck.

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly.

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body.

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated.

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..."

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin.

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control.

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair,"

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy.

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating"

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air.

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours.

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him.

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches.

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt.

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you.

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust.

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you.

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker.

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort.

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need.

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release.

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside.

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened.

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him.

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process.

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

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cherie-doll · 23 hours ago

Note

how do you think the cod men would react to you hiding an injury (from a mission) from them?

(annoyed i had a draft of this ready but my laptop decided to act up and i lost it, so i had to rewrite it again)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hiding An Injury From Them

ઇଓ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

it wasn't until after the mission that he noticed you clutching your side, your hand curved protectively over the wound that was surely getting worse by the minute or so he feared

he insisted on taking you to the medic right away, and as you were being examined he stayed right outside the room, he really wished you had told him, he was captain so he had to know if one of his had been injured

you were left to rest but the next day he came back, when you awoke he was there by your bedside, "why didn't you tell me?"

he just wants you to know that you need to trust him, he's more worried than anything on why you didn't come to him, did you not trust him?

Ghost

while you were seeking shelter he noticed the way you limped, you hadn't said anything but anyone who looked at you could see how terribly you tried to hide your pain

he sighs and trudges towards you, as if annoyed he has to do this, but he takes you aside and has you show him the injury, it wasn't as bad as he thought it was which is why he's a little relieved

as he bandages you up he's mostly silent, he wanted to scold you, to say something to get this feeling off his chest but when you gasp in pain when his fingers apply too much pressure he can't bring himself to be annoyed at you

you're left feeling the phantom touch of his fingers and how he gentled when he saw you wince in pain

Soap

you two were almost always assigned together or ended up finding one another and watching each other's back, so you were always in his subconscious; he just couldn't let anything happen to you

yet, in the blink of an eye it had happened, you brushed it off as being just fine, that it was only the debris and nothing more, nothing vital had been hit

but when you went back to base and he didn't see you around for a couple of days and found out you had been sent to recovery he rushed to find you, "you told me you were fine!", and he's upset you weren't honest when he asked

you two were a team...always working together so he definitely gets cross about the matter for a little while afterwards but not for long because he's still checking up and asking how you're holding up

Gaz

when you were a rookie you went to him for almost everything, he was the one you felt safest with and he had treated you with the most respect even if you were still learning and made mistakes

so he couldn't help but feel forgotten or sidelined when you didn't tell him about your injury, in fact, you weren't planning on telling anyone because you didn't want to make a 'big deal' out of it, you had been doing so well and you didn't want anyone to know you had messed up

yet, he found you taking painkillers and stuffing rags of blood down to the bottom of the trashcan, "how long have you been covering this?!" as he rushed to take care of it for you

he was stunned to find out you had been trying to take care of it yourself, still he remained patient as he somewhat understand why you did it

Roach

he went into panic thinking something worse would happen if you didn't tell someone right away, but you tried to tell him it wasn't that bad as a knife was sticking out of your leg

neither of you knew what to do other than informing someone, as help was on the way he shushed you and was 'calming' you down when you weren't even showing distress

he loves being helpful when he can so he stuck around to see if there was anything you needed whether that be emotional support or medicine; he was ready to help

Alejandro

he'd mutter a few curses before ordering some soldiers around to get an emergency kit, you try to move into a more comfortable position but he scolds you to hold it, you're making it worse

"this is serious you idiot, stuff like this can't be held off until later" and he might go off into a long rant but really he's trying to distract his mind as he cleans your wound and wraps it

he implements a new rule; everyone must report what they're doing or what has happened to them at all times during a mission, doesn't matter if they're taking a dump or if they got a papercut they gotta report that too

really he's just worried you'll get hurt and he won't be there in time to aid you

Rudy

he's all over you, anxious and troubled that one, you were injured and second, you were intentionally hiding it from him! he's more disappointed than anything

"i'm so sorry, you'll be fine.. i promise" he comforts as you're being patched up and treated, it probably hurt him more than you but you swear he's being a little over the top

back at base, there is not a day that goes by without him coming by to see you and bringing something for you, he doesn't even get mad at you for trying to hide the injury from him, he most likely forgot

Phillip Graves

"no, no- fuck, why?!" he focused in on solely you when a soldier told him about the injury you were trying to hide, but he cares too much, and you've seen how he is with his Shadows, of course he wouldn't let something like this slip by him

doesn't matter if you can walk yourself but you're not doing anything without assistance anymore until you're completely healed, it's sort of heartwarming in a way

he makes it very clear that this doesn't happen again, and you think he's talking about the injury but no he's referring to you hiding that you're hurt, he doesn't mind offering help he just doesn't want you suffering in silence

Makarov

he can't help but feel guilty, he should've known the risk for sending you out there and now the result is you needing emergency care, thankfully you weren't in too much pain

still, to him this is very serious, "this is serious! tell me what happened, who did it?", he's ready to go out there and find the bastard who had the audacity to do this, but you tell him it was kind of your own fault because everything had gone well it was actually due to your clumsiness that you had stumbled and hurt yourself on the way back

he doesn't know if that's another lie but since you seem better now he'll take it

Keegan

you've seen how much he yells during missions, so you know you're in for a reprimand the moment he figures out you're hurt, it's just a matter of time until he notices

strangely, when he does notice the blood through your clothes his eyes only widen as he points out the stained cloth and then gets to work silently as he uncovers the wound

you nervously try to tell him it's not that bad and he shouldn't be fussing over it but he just rolls his eyes, "not that bad you say? are you even looking at it?"

yeah it was pretty bad

König

he gets nervous the moment you show the slightest sign of discomfort so it's no strange that you'd hide an injury he's surely freak out over, you just don't want to cause him to lose focus

little do you know, the other soldiers are his eyes and ears as they report to him your injuries, he comes and says it's best you go back to base a little earlier, you protest thinking it's not fair that the others have sustained worse injuries yet they still have to keep going forward with the mission

but he just wants to prevent you from getting hurt worse and being so far away from a medic who could treat you end up with terrible health complications

Horangi

you and him tended to play around during missions, as if not taking them seriously, until it resulted in you getting hurt, he went serious after that even though to tried brushing it off

he could see you tense up a bit, your body sensitive to the throbbing pain that was begging to be taken care of, you needed rest and you weren't going to give it what it needed, he really wished he could be more caring and nurturing in this moment

he can only tell you to breathe slowly, to focus on the stars above you right now and hope you got to a medic soon, he wants you to realize you're not fine and that this could have been prevented, if only he had been more on guard

Nikto

he's seen people get their arm blown off, maybe even lose a leg and he barely bats an eye at it, so why is he constantly looking over at you who seems to be suppressing pain?

to him if blood isn't noticeable then it's no reason for alarm, and even then a little blood never hurt anyone, but your throbbing pain only gets stronger and he can see it in your eyes, the desperation and how you wish you had painkillers right now

while everyone else is asleep he orders you to tell him what's hurting and he tries his best to take care of it, he's built a high pain tolerance over the years but will feel disquieted when you appear worn out

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martybaker · 2 days ago

Text

There was only one couch

Tfw you cannot find the jayvik fic you crave so you write it yourself 🙃

I also gotta preface this with - I cannot write science talk for the life of me, in my defense they are sleep deprived so if it doesn’t make much sense, it’s not supposed to 🙈

—————————

They’ve been stuck at this problem for hours, any potential paths they managed to come up with immediately shattering after but a couple pokes of logic aimed to test the solidity of their foundations. Like bubbles popped by a child’s finger. Like heated corn kernels. Like dreams of making a difference-

Viktor’s too tired to think in metaphors.

He drops the pencil and swivels in his chair, facing Jayce who’s already draped across their shabby sofa, long legs sticking out from one end, head inclined on the armrest on the side closer to Viktor.

“What if we…build an oven?” Jayce says. “Well not like, an oven, but reverse, a device that could contain the energy and…,” he waves his hands in the air as he talks, as if that would help illustrate his train of thought, “…uhhh, we could more safely work on directing the charges? Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

Viktor chuckles. He doesn’t know why he does, it’s not even particularly funny, the exhaustion must have erased any common sense of his that was left. Yet it’s…comforting to see that same exhaustion mirrored in Jayce. The same dark circles, the same bone deep tiredness weighing him down, the same look of frustration after they’ve been hitting dead ends and running in circles. It’s a shared exhaustion, just like the hard work is shared. Probably should have called it a night hours ago. They both direly need the rest.

“An oven? That would be your hunger speaking, I’m afraid,” Viktor says, reaching for his cane, grinding his teeth to gather the energy to push himself up onto his feet.

“Nah, m’not hungry,” Jayce mumbles. “We had those sandwiches for lunch. Or was it dinner? What time is it even?”

“Too late by all accounts,” Viktor says, taking the few steps towards the couch. He looks at Jayce, who seems glued to the couch and likely is planning to spend the night there. Viktor looks towards the door, but hesitates. The idea of the track across campus to his lodgings really doesn’t sound appealing.

It’s not even that far, the university tried to accommodate Viktor’s needs as best as they could and gave him a room on the ground floor, plus the building is the closest housing to the Engineering department’s laboratories. And yet, today it feels miles away. Damn his leg, damn all the stairs, and damn his hubris for yet again pushing his body beyond its limits, knowing fully well it will backfire ten folds and render him even more useless in the morning.

Jayce notices his hesitation, damn his partner’s bright mind too. He can read Viktor too well, he guesses the reason for his histation despite Viktor’s lack of complaining.

“Oh, do you wanna sleep here? I’ll head home, no problem,” he suggests way too readily, already hoisting himself up onto his elbows.

Viktor tsks and pushes against Jayce’s chest, pushing him back down into the couch.

“Stay,” he hisses. Jayce lives off campus, it would take him much longer to get home. Viktor’s not about to kick him out. And he doesn’t care for compassion either.

Jayce knows this, yet the man cannot help but be kind and caring, and though it irritates Viktor when it's aimed at him, it is also a quality of Jayce’s that he admires. He’s kind to everyone. Meets everyone halfway. Though at times they push too far, and Jayce lets them. Too kind for his own good.

Viktor shakes his head, trying to clean it, the stacked up piles of thoughts seem to have all spilled inside his brain and are rattling around. Rest. He needs to rest.

He looks at Jayce, who is still lying down on the couch, hands raised as if in surrender, big doe eyes staring at Viktor. Was Viktor too cross with him just now? He’s unable to determine. He pats Jayce’s knee in an attempt to smooth over his own prickly temperament.

“I just…I need to take a moment. Before I head out,” he tries. He hopes Jayce won’t insist. He is too tired to come up with reasonable arguments. He doesn’t wanna fight.

But Jayce doesn’t fight, he nods, then he bites his lip and opens his arms.

Hmm.

Viktor considers.

The couch is clearly too small for one grown man, let alone two.

Still it would be more comfortable than the chair.

And Viktor’s not averse to touch. Despite perhaps coming off as such. To everyone, except for Jayce.

It is true that he doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, especially unexpectedly. But he is human and just like for anyone else, there are moments when he would welcome touch. Moments when he finds it comforting. And Jayce is a very tactile person. He didn’t hold back from putting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder the very first day they met, and he hasn’t stopped since. There was a moment near the beginning of their partnership when someone pointed out Viktor’s (alleged) aversion to touch and Jayce panicked, apologizing profusely for making him uncomfortable, and it took days for Viktor to convince him he really didn’t mind. Because that was the truth, Viktor didn’t mind. Not when it was Jayce.

Of course cuddling on the couch was an entirely different matter.

They’ve never done that before, however, Viktor wasn’t a stranger to the comfort of a warm body next to his either.

From cuddling with his parents for warmth as a kid in one too small bed, to seeking the pleasures of a lover to relieve stress, the warmth of a body next to his was undoubtedly beneficial.

And he and Jayce are friends. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

And so Viktor slowly drops his cane to the floor and lowers one of his knees to the couch, trying to figure out how to arrange himself next to Jayce.

Jayce tries to help but it takes some maneuvering, what with Viktor’s leg and their sleep deprived brains, there are a couple of winces and pointy elbows and just way too many limbs, an “Oof” from Jayce when he earns a knee to his stomach, but eventually Viktor finds himself situated with his back against the back of the couch, his head on Jayce’s chest, right leg on top.

It’s…it’s warm.

It’s nice.

It’s not a big deal.

“Okay?” Jayce checks.

Viktor hums. He can hear Jayce’s heartbeat, feel his breath on his forehead. Smell the musk, the odor of an unshowered body, but he has no right to complain, they both haven’t showered for however many hours or days they’ve been locked in here.

Jayce’s heartbeat and breathing slows, but Viktor cannot slow his racing thoughts. He can feel every point of contact where their bodies are touching. He can feel Jayce’s muscular chest moving under his hand. Jayce’s right hand briefly pets Viktor’s hair before it settles on top of his shoulders. Viktor fights against the urge to burrow closer, to inhale Jayce’s smell, to tug his hand back into Viktor’s hair.

Stupid sleep deprived brain. Viktor could have figured such close proximity to a warm body would reduce him to animal instincts. He can only be glad he’s way too sleepy for his nether parts to react as well.

Jayce feels his restlessness. How could he not, pressed so close.

“Viktor,” he whispers, warm breath tickling Viktor’s forehead and despite himself Viktor exhales and melts against that strong chest even more. “You can rest, V, I’ll wake you in a couple of minutes and walk you home.”

My ass you will, Viktor thinks, we’re both gonna fall asleep here, your right side will be completely numb and my back will be killing me tomorrow. He’ll barely be able to stand. But he’s too tired and too comfortable to say any of that now. It’s a Tomorrow Viktor’s problem anyways. This Viktor burrow’s closer against Jayce’s chest, letting all his worries and all the problems fade, falling into the sweet embrace of sleep.

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #arcane #jayvik fic #jayvik fanfic #arcane jayvik #jayce talis #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #my writing #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #one (1) throwaway sentence about microwaves and now i am having a whole ass crisis #about whether they have electricity in piltover #or chemtech or magicky substances or what #sigh i need to do more worldbuilding research

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pedrospookie · 2 days ago

Text

it seems that the eldest daughters of tumblr all want Joel Miller to come and take care of them (dear god, please please please, my soul needs it). this inspired me to start writing a couple of little Joel tales but until then, i thought this might tide us over.

someone (I think it was @itsokbbygrl ) said in the tags that Joel is a fixer and is def into parental issues and i literally cannot stop thinking about that— cause you are RIGHT.

it’s not my best work but alas!

Joel Miller x eldest daughter!reader imagine

nothing wild, mostly fluff! Joel soothing an eldest daughter’s nervous system one day at a time.

Joel would wash the dishes every night just because he knows how much you hate washing the dishes. It’s the least I could do, darlin’ he’d praise, taking immense pride in seeing the relief fall on your face.

Joel would kiss you just to kiss you; in the comfort of your home as you pass in the hallway, or out at the stables while caring for the horses, even at the bar in front of all the folks who know you. It was his small way to show his unconditional love and appreciation for you. He’d spend all day kissin’ you if he could.

Joel would take the time to rub your feet and ask about your day. His genuine curiosity about the townsfolk you encounter or the adventures you have brought a warmth to your chest as he works on the knots along the arch of your feet. He would always remember the little details of where you’ve been or what you’ve seen, or the names of the people you mention in your stories. Joel wasn’t perfect and would often get confused between Jess, Jessica and Jessa, but he certainly would do his best to keep it all straight.

Joel would listen and hear you. If it was important to you, it was important to him. He didn’t care if it was about how you admired the pretty pink colour of the flowers you passed by on patrol or how you had to remember to mend your socks later. He listened and cared. So much so, that whenever he could, Joel would bring home a small bouquet of said flowers for you after his patrol.

On bad days, Joel would be there. He would hold you through your big, ugly feelings, and tell you that it is okay and that he’s got you. Joel would force himself to stay calm and to speak softly to you, keeping his own panic and worry at bay. He would tell you that he was proud of you and your “smarts”, and that the only thing that matters is that you made it back home to him. He would slowly and gently wash your body and hair clean of all the blood and guts from the nearly failed patrol, and would mend every scrape and wound, sealing each one with a kiss.

And on the nights where you were plagued with terrors, the kind that woke you in a panic, the cold sweat glueing your hair to your neck and forehead, Joel would be there. To hold you and coax you back to sleep, rubbing soft circles on your back, and softly murmur that it is okay, that you’re safe.

In the mornings, you always woke to the smell of coffee wafting it’s way into your room. Joel always made sure to wake up before you, to let you have those extra few minutes in bed because he knew you needed them. He’d greet you with a big smile and a kiss, the kind that made you feel like you were back in the early days of your relationship. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, he would say as he placed your meal in front of you. Joel never let you leave the house without something warm in your belly.

Joel knew that you were more than capable of caring for yourself. Hell, you had survived 20 years in that hellscape overrun by infected, raiders and god knows what else. You had told him time and time again, often through gritted teeth, I’ve got this. I can do this myself. I do not need your help. Can you just let me handle this, please!

Slowly, yet surely, with patience and kindness, Joel slowly broke down your walls until you were ready to let him in. To accept the peace and love he had to offer. Joel is not a perfect man, but he tries. Which is more than most. He tries his damnedest every day to keep showing up for you the way he knows you deserve. To show you and make you feel the love, peace and respect that you deserve. And that? Well, that makes Joel feel a deep sense of joy that he hasn’t felt in years. He will gladly do it until his dying breath and that is a promise he will never break. The easiest job he’s ever had was lovin’ you.

tagging some folks who may like this (if not/tags aren’t your thing, just tell me to buzz off! I wont be offended!): @slimybeth69 @itsokbbygrl @mrsmando @evolnoomym @sanarsi @marilovespedro @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

#tessa's assets #Joel Miller x Eldest Daughter!Reader #joel miller #joel miller thoughts #tlou series #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #this isn’t my best work and was a lil bit of a brain dump #but it scratches an itch #eldest daughter syndrome #Mr. Joel ‘fix it’ Miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal

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luvbugs-blog · 2 days ago

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mistletoe - i. midoriya

summary: just you and your childhood best friend decorating the dorm for Christmas when you stumble across a little surprise.

warnings: nothing!

author’s note: please please send me your thoughts!! i would love suggestions on what to write next!

this draft is literally from 2022. and i haven’t written in MONTHS, so this was a very rough, very quick lil piece. enjoy!

--------------------------------------

gently swaying to the christmas music in the background, you knelt to grab another ornament, grabbing a small All Might figure with a santa hat on. you smile at the ornament before placing him adjacent to the ornament that you bought for the tree.

“y/n”.

you gasp and jump slightly, hand on your chest.

“jesus, izuku, you could’ve warned me at least.”

“sorry,” your childhood friend says with a small smirk, not looking sorry at all. “heroes should be aware of their surroundings at all times, you know.”

“well, excuuuse me for not expecting someone to attack me while decorating,” you scoff, turning back to the tree.

“just saying,” he says, before helping you finish decorating.

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

when you both agreed the tree was up to standards, you packed up the rest of the decorations and started to the storage closet. however, you seemed to take a bit too much, as the bottom box started to slip out of your grasp.

“what’s the holdup?”

“damn, izu, give me a second.” you get to a doorway and lean the boxes on the wall to adjust. once you felt properly secure, you turn around, ready to give a snippy response but hesitate when you see izuku’s face.

“what’s up with your face?” he blushes deeper, avoiding eye contact by looking above you. “izuku.”

you huff, turning back around, when you see what he got all flustered at. above you is a mistletoe. you flush, fully intending to ignore it as you begin to walk forward. but a hand grabs your shoulder, turning you to face him.

“what?”

izuku flushes even more. “you know, I think we’re supposed to kiss under this.”

“what?!”

“it’s tradition!”

“it’s a stupid tradition,” you stutter, avidly avoiding eye contact. you try to turn back around when a hand grabs your face and pulls you in.

izuku lets out a soft breath when your lips softly touch. after a second or two, he tried to pull back, but not before you grabbed onto his shoulder to pull him back in. your second kiss was much harder than the first, so much so that you almost forget you are holding the boxes.

you pull back quickly to catch them as they begin to fall, still stunned at what had happened. once you got the boxes situated once again, you looked up at izuku, who was looking at you with a very proud grin.

“a stupid tradition, huh?”

“oh shut up,” you mutter, walking a little faster to finally put the boxes away. you had crushed on this boy for years, and all it took was a stupid little plant to move things along.

.......................................................................

i loooooove reading about confident but uber dorky midoriya. so here he is, the king of the sassy man apocalypse. let me know if you want any more christmas fics with other characters:)

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clarii · 1 day ago

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Always Near

Summary: You’ve always been there for JJ, but when he pushes you away, everything changes. With time and distance, the weight of unspoken feelings grows heavier for both of you. Can broken bonds be mended, or will the past stay in the way?

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, tension, hurt/comfort, and a soft, heartfelt ending.

Author’s Note: This is my first published story, and I’m so excited to share it with you! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. Feedback is always welcome! Also, I hope you guys had a great holiday!

The summer heat was unrelenting on the Outer Banks, but the Pogues were used to it by now. Sunburns and sweat were part of the deal, as was the endless chatter among the group. You were nestled into your usual spot on the HMS Pogue, sitting across from JJ Maybank. His sun-bleached hair glinted in the sunlight, and you couldn’t help but grin as he tried—and failed—to tie a fishing knot properly.

“Need help, pretty boy?” you teased, your voice light, even though your heart felt heavy with unspoken feelings.

“Got it,” he replied, flashing you that mischievous smirk that never failed to make your stomach flutter.

Everyone knew about your feelings for JJ. It was as obvious as the freckles on his sun-kissed face. You made no attempt to hide it, either. Why would you? From the matching bracelets you had made for the two of you to the way you always called him nicknames, it was clear you adored him. JJ was your world, even if he didn’t see it that way.

The Pogues teased you mercilessly for it, though never in a mean-spirited way. Even JJ seemed to tolerate your affection, brushing it off with jokes or lighthearted jabs. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought of you the way you thought of him.

The incident with Barry changed everything.

Tensions were high after the fight to get JJ’s stolen money back. Bruised and angry, JJ lashed out at anyone who got too close. You’d followed him after he stormed off from the group, wanting to make sure he was okay.

“JJ, wait,” you called, jogging after him. “You can’t just run off like this.”

He whipped around, his blue eyes blazing with frustration. “Why not? What do you care?”

Your heart sank, but you tried to push through his anger. “Of course I care. You’re—”

“Enough!” he snapped, his voice cutting through you like a knife. “Stop trying so hard, okay? Stop always being near me, always fussing over me. It’s suffocating.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and cruel. You stared at him, feeling the tears prick your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Fine,” you whispered. “I’ll stop.”

And you did.

After his outburst, you’d done what he asked. You pulled away. Stopped calling him nicknames. Stopped showing up at the chateau with snacks or little gifts. And JJ didn’t come after you, at least not at first.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t bother him.

“Something’s wrong with you,” John B said one night as they sat on the porch, watching the stars.

“I’m fine,” JJ replied, fiddling with the bracelet you’d made him.

John B raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been off for weeks. You’re not yourself.”

JJ hesitated, staring at the worn beads on his wrist. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” John B pressed. “You miss her.”

JJ sighed, leaning back against the railing. “Of course I miss her. But it’s not like I can just fix it. I screwed up.”

“So, apologize,” John B said simply.

“It’s not that easy,” JJ muttered.

“Sure, it is,” John B shot back. “Stop being a coward and tell her how you feel. You’re miserable without her, JJ. Everyone can see it.”

JJ didn’t respond, but that night, as he lay in bed, John B’s words echoed in his mind.

It wasn’t easy to get you to talk to him again.

The first time he tried, you brushed him off.

“Can we talk?” he’d asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You didn’t even look at him. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“Please, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking to the bracelet still on his wrist, but then you shook your head. “No, JJ. You told me to stop, so I did. Now you have to live with it.”

Weeks later, after that conversation you found yourself back on the beach with the Pogues. The tension had eased slightly, but things between you and JJ were still strained.

As the group sat around the fire, JJ caught your eye from across the circle. This time, he didn’t ask for permission. He just stood up and walked toward you, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen it.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, “can we talk? Please?”

You sighed but stood up, letting him lead you a little way down the beach.

“What do you want, JJ?” you asked, your voice tired.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the sand. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “For telling me to stop trying? For making me feel like I wasn’t enough?”

JJ winced. “For all of it. For being an idiot. For pushing you away when all you were trying to do was help.”

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I was angry, and I took it out on you. And when you left, it made everything worse. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you were gone.”

“JJ…” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said, stepping closer. “But I need you to know that I’m sorry. And I—I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too scared to say it. Too scared to admit that you’re the best thing in my life.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You love me?”

JJ nodded, his blue eyes shining with emotion. “Yeah, I do. And I know I don’t deserve another chance, but if you give me one, I promise I’ll never take you for granted again.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your heart pounding. Then, slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing against the bracelet on his wrist.

“I loved you then,” you said softly. “And I love you now. But if you screw this up again, Maybank, I’m done.”

JJ’s face lit up with relief, a grin spreading across his lips. “I won’t. I swear, sunshine.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, the sound of the waves crashing behind you, everything felt right again.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you

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grapejuicebluesrry · 2 days ago

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here we go, the largest category! you can find the rest of the posts under the tag 'grapejuicebluesrry 2024 fic rec'.

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From This Moment On (52K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

Louis Tomlinson needs a tour photographer, and he thinks he's found the one in the mysterious H on Instagram.

Harry Styles swore he'd never do tour photography again - that is, until he did.

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The World Outside Is Bigger Than Me (60K) by Ioudloudlove

A university sweetheart AU where Harry and Louis haven't spoken for years after a bad break up. But seeking shelter from a storm, Louis unwittingly finds himself on Harry's doorstep…

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Feels Like Snow In September (75K) by louisismycat (tiflamomet) | @liminalkitty369

A mysterious teenager shows up at Louis' door claiming to be his daughter...with an omega he hasn't seen in 16 years, whom believes their secret love child to be dead.

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I'll Be Home For Christmas (62K) by lovelarry10 | @chloehl10

Harry's life seems to be going well. He has a great job working at Festive Furnishings, he has an amazing three year old son called Danny, and his favourite time of the year is approaching. Just as Harry thinks everything is finally going to plan, he finds out that he is going to be losing his home just before Christmas.

Louis Tomlinson is happy enough with his lot. He's the CEO of a company he started years ago, Festive Furnishings, he has great colleagues, especially his assistant Harry, and he has the best nephew in the world. But the thing is, Louis is lonely. He has a beautiful house but it's too quiet, especially at this time of year. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

While struggling to find somewhere warm and safe for himself and Danny to stay, Harry makes a decision that might just change the course of everything... and bring himself and Louis closer together as well…

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you came into my life (57K) by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface

They stand around talking for a minute and then Jonathan starts to ramble, “Has there ever been, like, an unrequited gay love story in here? Like a Brokeback Mountain moment where, like, someone just fell in love and they didn’t mean to?”

Louis feels bile rise in his throat as Jonathan’s eyes sparkle, pleading for a yes. He manages to look around and see thoughtful looks on his coworkers’ faces before their heads shake no.

“Not here,” Liam says finally.

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

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Tangled in your love and light (95K) by likelarry | @likelarryfics

Harry doesn't have time for romance or finding an Alpha between balancing work, studying and looking after his daughter, Bella.

Enter Louis Tomlinson who's a romantic sweet Alpha, determined to win the omegas heart and turns Harry's whole world upside down, making him question everything he's ever wanted and known.

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Wither & Bloom (65K) by The_Dizzy_Pixie

No one knows that legendary Harry Styles is an omega. The record label, the fans, and even his family have no idea, leading to a very isolated and very lonely life for Harry. He knows it's for the best. Otherwise, he'd never have the career he wanted and he contents himself in the knowledge that he's not the only one. But when Harry injures his voice during a performance, his manager hires a new vocal coach to help put him to rights. Cue Louis Tomlinson, the sweetest, sexiest, kindest alpha in the world, stepped right out of Harry's dizziest daydreams. While Louis tries to figure out why there's something so incredibly un-alpha-like about 'Alpha-King of Pop' Harry Styles, Harry is busy trying to control his omega's undeniable urge to throw himself at the object of his infatuation.

Amid an accidental misgendering, getting slick in public, tour bus snuggles with awkward boners, and unprovoked drops, Harry will have to choose whether he wants to keep living a lie for the sake of remaining in the spotlight or if he'll sacrifice everything to be with the man he loves... Assuming Louis ever comes back.

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discover more fics under the cut!

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Men are shit (77K) by Darling28 | @darling-28

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

Louis actually just wanted a cosy evening. When suddenly an unknown curly-haired man appears on his doorstep and mistakes him for his husband's affair. Nobody would have guessed that this would lead to a deep friendship and love.

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i would know you from touch alone (72K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

The Tomlinson and Cox gangs have hated each other for over forty years. Harry Styles, the grandson of Gritty Cox, was freshly back to the city after uni when, on his first night out, he punched the Tomlinson heir in the face. It shouldn’t have mattered, their gangs have done worse to each other. But all it took was one single touch to recognize your soulmate. Louis was adamant that being soulmates changed nothing, not who they were or which family they were loyal to. Or, at least, it shouldn’t have.

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The Pros and Cons of Breathing (81K) by HelloLovers13

Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday. It's to be expected, given his station. So his betrothal to Prince Louis comes as no surprise. While he's nervous about leaving his home, and the life and people he knows, he's still hopeful for a good match and a happy marriage.

But when Louis avoids him at all costs, and is downright cruel to him at times, it leaves Harry trying to make sense of his new life alone.

Can he find happiness - and a home - even in a broken marriage?

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No Going Back (56K) by jacaranda_bloom | @jacaranda-bloom

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

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sunshine, baby! (106K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

Louis was the first one down the row for their group. If he hadn’t been they would have never met.

He was turned around, walking backwards and saying to Liam, “No, I’ll get you to a real footie match next,” when he bumped into someone.

“Oops,” Louis laughed, tripping over his own feet. A hand curled around his upper arm as he nearly fell over the seat in front of him. “Sorry about that, mate.”

He turned around, still teetering in his vans, to apologize again, but the words dried in his throat. Another hand gripped his other elbow, steadying him, but all Louis could see were green eyes and dimples.

“Hi,” the man laughed, a bright, bubbling sound. “Are you okay?”

Or Louis is in his first year of law school, Harry is a junior on the swim team dreaming of the Olympics, and they both agree that they don't have time for anything more than friends with benefits... right?

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Christmas Always Finds Me (56K) by lovelarry10 | @chloehl10

Harry blinked slowly, realisation dawning on him. “Gemma, no…”

“Keira can’t stay. Her sister just had a baby, and she’s got a train booked. Harry, I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice, but I need you to take Logan…”

“Gemma! My fucking holiday… you know I’ve been looking forward to it, and so has Lou…”

“I know, Harry, I really do. And I’ll pay for another one, I promise. You can pick anywhere you like, somewhere better than bloody Magaluf, but believe me, I wouldn’t ask if I had an alternative. I’m so sorry.”

══❆❅══╡°˖❅❆❅˖°╞══❅❆══

Harry and Louis have big plans for Christmas. Neither is into the idea of celebrating, so they book a holiday to sunnier climes. However, fate has other plans in the form of Harry's ten month old nephew Logan…

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True Colours (90K) by Darling28 | @darling-28

Harry has everything he wanted for now; his own yoga studio in London and hardly any contact with his family. Yes, he's a bit lonely, but that's okay.

It's better than having a new participant who disrupts the class with his swearing and brings down Harry's beautifully constructed self-image with his bum in those tight leggings.

It's a hard road to self-acceptance and breaking free from the shackles of the past, but Louis is always by his side. Until Harry suddenly wants more and everything is once again on the brink of collapse.

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Written In The Stars? (50K) by unscattered_horizons

Niall is a writer. Well, technically he's a bar tender who's working towards the day when he pays the bills with his poetry. But for now, he works late and writes in the afternoon before his shifts, and shares a flat with his friend, Shawn. They were strangers before they lived together, but now they're inseparable.

His other friends from uni don't live far, and Louis and H have a kid now. Niall's in no rush to follow in their footsteps. He's happy with his life.

But he has a side job writing horoscopes for an online magazine, because London is expensive and he needs the cash. Niall may not realise it, but some of the horoscopes reveal more about his heart than he's ready to acknowledge. Niall's side gig might prove to be a catalyst for an entirely new life, one he didn't even know he wanted until it was staring right back at him, waiting for him to take a chance and trust his instincts.

What I've been calling the horoscope fic. Inspired by a Tumblr post.

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Together unfold (71K) by marcythesassykitten | @marcythesassykitten

“Oh you’re gonna die, Andrew Scott can use me as a doormat and I’d say thank you.”

The group eyed him in silence and as Harry’s wide gaze flickered across the surprised faces, he stuttered to continue.

“I–I’m not, like, into that in, like, a kinky way I– though there’s nothing wrong if people like that! I’m just saying that I don’t want people to walk on me or, like, clean their shoes on my face because what if they’d stepped on something nasty and I just have to lie there and take it without being able to say something– or would I be allowed to say something? I guess there’d have to be some sort of safe word system in place if one were to do that because everyone should always follow SSC, or they really shouldn’t be dabbling with that world because it could be so unsafe ‘cause, like, I heard about a friend of a friend whos colleague once went to this club with a bloke on their first date and she–”

“Harry, love, take a breath for me, yeah?” Louis chuckled.

Or, the one where Louis is determined to be insecure and stubbornly lonely forever, until Harry comes along to mess up that particular plan.

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a crown of heartache (70K) by WordsInBloom28

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

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Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) (51K) by yrsacd

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

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You're in my veins (53K) by likelarry | @likelarryfics

Louis cheats on Harry after being married for twelve years. When Louis comes clean and asks to mend their relationship, Harry doesn't think he has it in him to do it, even if he is pregnant again.

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In The Shadow of Ecstasy (52K) by abaddxns | @causticsunshine

In which HL are a happy couple that are fine with their plentiful vanilla sex... until it starts leaving something to be desired. Luckily for them, they both have the want—and the experience—to liven things up.

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Secrets in Winter (82K) by softfonds | @softfonds

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

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Late Night Talking (53K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Louis Tomlinson has a new album coming out and a second world tour on the horizon. Promo season gets underway with a stop at Late Night Talking, the late night show hosted by Harry Styles, and Harry Styles just happens to be the man who blew a chance to date Louis a decade ago.

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Fragments of Us (94K) by ifiwasabluebird

Unknown Number: I will strip away all that you hold dear and all that you love until you have nothing left but me.

When Harry's lost cell phone falls into the hands of a mysterious stranger, his life is thrown into chaos. As the stranger begins to infiltrate every aspect of his life, Harry's relationship with Louis is put on the line. With each threatening message, Harry realises that it's not just his privacy at stake, but his very life.

Caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse, Harry must race against time to uncover the stalker's identity and stop them before it's too late.

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Homegrown (51K) by casuallyhl | @casuallyhl

“It wasn’t an easy decision, if I’m honest,” Harry admits, shoulders sagging in on himself. “Moving is really difficult. My whole life was in Manchester. But Manchester didn’t want me. Leeds did.”

“Well, Leeds is happy to have you,” Louis says, giving Harry a kind smile.

Harry brightens a bit at that, undeniably pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, expression soft and lips curved.

Or, a gardening AU where Harry is new to town and the newest volunteer at the local gardening club, Louis is the attractive grandson of one of the members, and the nosy volunteers hatch a plan to get them together.

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Endgame (38K) by brightgolden | @brightgolden

Harry has been told all his life how grateful he should be for being born as a male omega, and how blessed their people were because the heir to the throne would be carried by The King.

What they neglected to tell Harry was what would happen if he failed to become pregnant.

Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

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Look To The Sky (82K) by babyhoneyhslt | @babyhoneyheslt

“Harry, it’s been five years,” Liam says softly, heaving an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s hard, but you need to let it go.”

“I can’t let it go.” Harry shakes his head. “He’s my husband, Ash’s father. I can’t give up on him.”

“I’m not asking you to give up on him, but you need to stop questioning them. Or trying to get your nose in places it’s not wanted.” Liam watches him. “You know you’re one of my best workers, and I can’t lose you. I’m giving you a warning now, please stop this.”

“Or what?” Harry looks at Liam. “You’ll fire me? For wanting answers to what happened to my husband?”

~.~

On the 28th January 2019, British Airways flight BA289 took off from Chile at 10:04am. The fight was due to land in London Heathrow Airport at 12:44am.

The flight was flown by experienced Captain Louis Tomlinson, accompanied by the first officer Oli Wright.

Around five hours into the flight, BA289 disappeared from air traffic controls radar, and did not arrive in Heathrow at the estimated time.

Search crews are currently looking for any signs of wreckage, but the question stands, what happened to flight BA289?

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When the Lights Go Out (79K) by thelarenttrap | @antidotetogo

“Louis, what do you have to say about how last week ended?” the reporter asks. There’s a moment of silence. Harry is looking at the reporter, but eventually gives in and looks down the table at Louis. He’s looking straight ahead, as if Harry isn’t even in the room. “If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.” Harry leans forwards, placing his arms on the table and leaning onto them to get as close to his microphone as he can while looking at Louis. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Louis turns to him, his icy blue eyes meeting Harry's. “Driving is your fuckin’ job, act like it.”

In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen. _______________________________

aka the one where Louis and Harry are childhood friends to enemies to lovers over the course of 15 ish years.

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Baby We Could Be Enough (74K) by lovelarry10 | @chloehl10

Harry Styles has always wanted a family, but his boyfriend doesn’t. When an unexpected pregnancy leaves Harry feeling alone and terrified, he feels he has no choice but to give up his baby. He finds a family with the adoptive parents, and maybe something more.

Louis Tomlinson and his wife, Jess, have been trying for a baby for years. Their hasty marriage after they first got pregnant has only led to a series of miscarriages that have put a strain on their already precarious relationship. When they meet a young man desperate for a home and someone to raise his child, Louis realizes that he may have been moving in the wrong direction all along.

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as a river flows (surely to the sea) (50K) by honestlylemmejust

Louis is glad there are these obnoxious green disco lights flashing, because he’s pretty sure he’s blushing a lot and he really doesn’t want anyone to notice. It’s not real; it was just a silly misunderstanding. That’s why he didn’t want this to happen, he didn’t want to know what it could be like. But as long as him and Harry don’t kiss he’s fine, even if they’re both slightly tipsy, he will not kiss his best friend.

He’s afraid if he kisses him it might give him something to miss.

(Harry and Louis are good at pretending and it takes them a few tries to realize they never have to pretend when it comes to each other.)

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come away with me (99K) by suspendrs | @suspendrs-fics

Louis had such big plans. He wanted so much out of life, and so did Amy. Now Bridget is going to grow up without a mother, and she’s always going to wonder what it would be like if this hadn’t happened. He wonders if she’ll blame him for her mother’s death as she gets older, or if she’ll understand that this is just as painful for Louis as it is for her. Louis doesn’t know how he’s going to raise her on his own, because he’s a fantastic father, yes, but he’s always been the fun parent, and Amy was in charge of the rules. He doesn’t know how to make sure Bridget has everything she needs all the time, doesn’t know how to make her favorite meal or how to do that one braid she loves to have in her hair or how to teach her to be the best person she can be. He doesn’t know how to live without Amy, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

Or, Louis has to pick up the pieces of his and his daughter's life after his wife dies, and Harry is a beautiful stranger that just wants to help.

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Terraced dreams (62K) by elleseekeepdriv

Harry Styles is the son of Anne Cox, a self made billionaire who rules the furniture business in the whole of England with ACS. She created such an empire that both her kids are set for life, becoming millionaires by the time they turned eighteen. Harry Styles is, in Louis’ opinion, everything that is wrong with people who are born into money and have never had to struggle. He seems arrogant and self-centred and looks like he’s never worked a day in his life. Louis despises him and is very shocked to learn that the rumours are actually true. Harry's bought Louis' team, the Doncaster Rovers.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters. “I’m going to make his life a living hell.”

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Say You'll Remember (93K) by whisperdlullaby

au. louis and harry are best mates that are only half aware that they're also soulmates. alternatively, louis goes to university and harry travels the world, and they always manage to find their way back to each other.

takes place over nine years, in which they love and hurt, make mistakes and learn, and above all, grow.

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ti dedico le autostrade che portano al mare (i dedicate to you the highways that bring you to the sea) (87K) by me_her_themoon | @dreamersdivin-headfirst

“Simon, please. I need a break.” Louis speaks softly into the phone. "I’ve been working constantly for the past 4 years,” His voice strains.

“I suppose you’ve earned it.” Simon reluctantly sighs.

(Louis goes on hiatus for six months to a small coastal town in Italy where he doesn't expect to fall in love with the charming baker)

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Damned if I do, damned if I don’t (70K) by emmli28

Zayn and Liam have been nagging Louis for a long time, to go out with them, so one night he does, to shut them up. They take him to a club, with exotic dancers, where he finds a person who will soon turn his life upside down, in all kinds of ways.

Or the one where Louis joins Harry and his boyfriend for a threesome. That night turns his world upside down and then all hell breaks loose. Harry’s boyfriend is an asshole. Of course the story has a happy ending!

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satellite (99K) by suspendrs | | @suspendrs-fics

“It’s been three years since I’ve had a proper hot meal,” Louis says finally. “I have no idea where my family is, or if any of them are even still alive. The only reason I’ve been able to keep myself alive for as long as I have is because I keep to myself, stay guarded, stay hidden. It’s the only way I know how to live,” he says.

Harry wants to cry, but he tries to put on a brave face when Louis finally meets his eyes. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to be so guarded around me,” Harry says quietly, earnestly.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Louis says, putting his fork down. “But yes I do. Especially around you.”

Or, Louis needs a house. Harry offers him a home.

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In My Place (97K) by kassio

Prince Louis has it all. He's wealthy, privileged, famous, and handsome, with a loving family and a world of opportunities. There's only one problem: he isn't actually the queen's son.

Harry and Niall Horan don't have much, but they have a dream: to win the X Factor and achieve something more than their normal middle-class life.

Two dreams collide and two very different paths come together when Louis requests to meet with Harry after seeing him on the X Factor.

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Lovers in the Night (46K) by Kiwiwatermelongrapejuice | @kiwiwatermelongrapejuice

Louis mates take him to a strip club and pay for a private lap dance for him as a bit of a laugh between all the lads. What no one anticipated was the fact that Baby was going to be exactly Louis' type. Even more coincidental is that it seems the feeling is mutual.

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Wild at Heart (50K) by She_bear

Louis is a lost soul, sailing around a remote archipelago in the Philippines when he makes a surprising discovery.

A castaway fic ___________

"Like the island itself, he was a quite bewildering and ever changing landscape of beauty. Nothing was the same now Louis was here. The placid solitude to which Harry had grown accustomed had been replaced by fun and exquisite physical pleasure. By conversation, affection and connection. And with that all his peace was lost."

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Sweetest Devotion (61K) by brightgolden | @brightgolden

After his divorce, all Harry wants in life is to provide a stable, loving environment for his three-year-old daughter, Evie.

Never in his wildest dreams has he ever considered that life might come with the presence of his teenage crush — Gemma’s friend from secondary school, Louis Tomlinson.

Luckily, Harry isn’t still pining over him.

Or so he thought.

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A Night in Hollywood (71K) by Sax246

Louis Tomlinson, aged twenty-six, a world-famous actor, is at the peak of his career. When he is ensured one of the main roles of a queer rom-com, he is thrilled, even more so when he finds out his co-star is none other than the famous Harry Styles, aged twenty-four. Though, Louis quickly comes to realise Harry is only enjoyable on the screen and not in-person.

When the two get caught in a fight by paparazzi at a celebrity party, the media goes crazy, and they are forced into a PR-relationship against their will. But feelings gets tangled around and want overcomes the hatred between them, and soon something new begins to blossom between the two stars.

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Lend Me Your Hand (63K) by QuickedWeen

Society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. They're just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

Lord Louis Tomlinson, Viscount Loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. Despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of Gemma Styles' younger brother.

Harry Styles has been traveling and away from society for over a year. Coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. He doesn't need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out.

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Face Your Fears (92K) by SadaVeniren | @sadaveniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

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Maybe It's Heaven (81K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation When Harry Styles finds himself forced to go home for Christmas, the last thing he expects is to fall in love.

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson … again.

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Allegiance to your burning heart (82K) by driveinbingo

“Have you written any more new songs?”

“I have, yeah. Lately they’re just…coming out of me.”

“Are there any more about me?”

He places a hand on the back of Louis’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long again, almost the length it was when Harry left. “They’re all about you.”

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

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We Should Be Shooting For Them Stars Of Gold (77K) by babyhoneyhslt | @babyhoneyheslt

To make his dream of becoming a tour photographer come true, Harry reluctantly agrees to marry his annoying ex.

Louis Tomlinson might be a big name in the music industry, but his reputation needs some polish.

Neither of them expects this to end well, but maybe a two week honeymoon in the Maldives can change everything.

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Them Butterflies (97K) by momentofclarity | @gaycousinlarry

To sum it all up - Louis is beautiful. Breathtakingly so. And Harry can’t find it in himself to even question the fact that he thinks so. Louis is mesmerising, nearly magnetic with all the energy bouncing off of him. Harry doesn’t know what to make of it, but he knows he doesn’t want this night to end.

This is the extraordinarily ordinary AU where Harry falls in love for the first time and Louis learns how to fall in love all over again.

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If You Leave Me (60K) by Wellington28

Niall has found himself alone after his long time partner left him. To cheer himself up, he adopts a puppy who quickly becomes his best friend...until she runs away, too. Now, Niall is alone again and has to navigate life without a partner - human or canine - and figure out how to move forward without the one thing he wants most - stability. Will he find that with Canada's prettiest good boy?

Despite the sad summary I promise it’s mostly fluff! Please give it a chance 💜💜

-or-

the ace Shiall puppy fic

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Eternal Summer (65K) by j_klmnop

After the death of his estranged father, Harry makes the trip from London to Naples, Italy to say his goodbyes. He has seven days before the funeral and since he's on summer break from university, he decides to make a road trip out of it.

His carefully planned trip is thrown a loop when he meets a beautiful blue eyed hitchhiker named Louis, who is trying to escape his controlling family. With no destination in mind— just the desire to get as far away as possible, Louis decides to tag along for the ride to Italy, with plans to continue on once they arrive.

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if we were butterflies (52K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice.

or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

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[series] I See Us in Black & White (70K) by Ioudloudlove

Harry Styles is just your average 20-something. He followed his soul to a new town and now he works hard as a barman and lives alone in his little house. That is until he's swept off his feet... literally.

When Harry regains consciousness, his entire world has changed. Everything that was once black and white is now flooded with colour. And the first person he sees is his soulmate...Liam.

What Harry didn't count on was Liam's best mate...Louis. What is it about him that Harry just can't let go of? Why has his entire world been turned around? And is it really possible to walk away from your soulmate to chase a dream?

Original Prompt:

soulmate au where you see the world in black-and-white until you meet your soulmate. Harry Styles meets two people at once at the moment he first sees in colour, makes the wrong choice, and falls in love with the right one anyway

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Whole Lot of History (73K) by Blue_Green28 | @bluegreen28fics

Louis and Harry have a whole lot of history. With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage they are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

What happens when Harry finally gets some money to open the coffee shop he had always dreamed of and they spend more time together to plan everything? Does their love still have a chance?

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Hazelbridge (77K) by CoolCrying

Nestled in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, the tiny town of Hazelbridge has been home to Louis and his family for generations. Heir to his grandfather's historic bookshop, Louis lives a quiet but happy life, providing a hub for the town's many queer people, and indulging his love for books. That is, until Harry Styles comes to town.

This is the story of a town and two bookshops. It's the story of a family, and two boys with very different stories, who fell in love.

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Come What May (58K) by j_klmnop

Louis didn't believe in love at first sight until he met his neighbour Harry, the gorgeous man in the apartment next door who saved lives and had a smile that made his knees weak.

Louis was determined that today was the day he would finally grow some balls and ask Harry on a date.

Until his plans were disrupted by an unexpected delivery. One that would surely ruin his chances at any kind of love life.

Or, maybe it would be just what Louis needed to bring he and Harry closer together.

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I Give My Heart For You To Heal (57K) by missyoubabycakes

"I can't believe I ever listened to Kaitlyn into agreeing on this stupid not date." He grunts loudly, making sure that Louis The Fucking Tommo listens.

"Just go back inside and read a book or something!" Louis yells back as he jumps onto his bike, angrily putting on his helmet.

"Fuck you."

Louis gives him the finger, and then he's off.

the one where Louis' best mate gets married to Harry's best friend, and they can't really stand each other, so what do they do when something tragic is set to change their lives?

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just find the light out (in the madness) (61K) by boyfriendstages | @boyfriendstages

Teenage sweethearts turned strangers, Harry and Louis, were the golden couple of their small town—until Louis caved to pressure and broke Harry’s heart.

A year later, Harry is focused on university, determined to move on with his life, when fate pulls them back together. Old wounds are reopened, old feelings resurface, and the last thing Harry expects is for Louis to leave him with more than heartbreak: a baby on the way.

#grapejuicebluesrry 2024 fic rec #fic rec #2024 fic rec #larry fics #hljournal #tracking happily #tracksintheam #tracking home #larry fic rec #ao3 feed larry #1d fic library

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bonefall · 17 hours ago

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I’ve only seen glances of it but Tigerheartstar being so terrible to people this book neither surprises me yet shocks me at the same time. I can see him being a rude leader, but getting mad at his mom for helping encourage his kid to do something he and Dovewing did? Talking about how Birchfeather and Tawnypelt are being disloyal to their clan?? Hello? Did the Erins forget what he was up to in OOTS? That he thought clan loyalty was stupid?

I'm a bit torn on it.

For full context, I finished the book but im still writing chapter summaries over on my sideblog since ppl seem to appreciate them. So lemmie real quick catch up everyone on what happened;

SkyClan is in crisis again due to a poisoned river. They ask for the borders to be a bit more lenient, just so that any prey they chase over the line can still be theirs.

Tigerheartstar AND Squilfstar say no. Bruh :/

Tiger also decides to tighten security to make SURE they don't.

(I am choosing to interpret this as partially being his longstanding grudge against SkyClan, and partially being petty payback for how Leafstar responded to him trying to hold RiverClan together in the last arc)

Birchfeather admits his love for Ridgeglow to Tawnypelt, after her scent is picked up at the border and is causing tensions.

Tawny encourages Birchfeather to share his feelings.

This backfires and Birchfeather announces to his parents that he's leaving. Everyone involved is completely shocked and caught off-guard by this. Tawny absolutely did not anticipate this going down this way.

All of ShadowClan is upset when they gather to say goodbye. Everyone. Dovewing and Tigerheartstar are the only two who don't show up.

Tawnypelt goes to drag them out to say goodbye; they are huddled in the den, Dovewing is very upset.

Narration emphasises that they are being unreasonable because of Rowankit's death and that their son is leaving now.

Still, Tawnypelt points out the hypocrisy since they were cross-clan lovers themselves.

Dove and Tiger come to say goodbye but in a very overly formal way which is clearly cold.

Tawny walks her grandson to the border and continues to meet up with him when she has a chance. She even offers to relay messages.

Tigerheartstar decides (even interrupting and speaking over Dovewing) that they are practicing "tough love" and will not acknowledge him until he returns.

Tawnypelt fights with her son several times, culminating in her gently helping Birchfeather pass a trial and feed SkyClan by chasing a rabbit over the border. For this, Tiger calls her disloyal.

Tigerheartstar admits that his plan is to give Birchfeather the cold shoulder until he either fails his trials or decides to come home, and accuses Tawnypelt of overstepping her boundaries as a grandparent.

He's being an extremely unsupportive parent, here. Clearly. The narrative keeps emphasising that his behavior is fuelled by losing his child in the last arc, and that he had become particularly overprotective of the surviving son.

So, part of me enjoys the family drama here. I like Tigerheartstar because he is messy and biased. His position on Clan Loyalty has shifted in the past (oots speeches vs avos loyalty punishments for example) and he's possessive enough of his family for him to act very unreasonably when faced with a situation where he might be separated from another kid.

That said-- WOW he's acting gross in the later chapters. The way he cuts off Dovewing when she tries to speak especially makes my blood boil. He straightup admitted to Tawnypelt that he hopes to manipulate his kid into returning home with the same kind of emotional abuse Bramblestar does when he's having a temper tantrum.

Now, I don't think it would be in-character of him to just happily support Birchfeather shifting Clans, especially to a group ShadowClan has had beef with for several arcs. But, something feels off.

It's hard to accept he's not making a big scene about this, explaining exactly why he doesn't want to see Birchfeather go to his son's face. I guess it's not that I don't expect Tiggy to act manipulative, but he should be a different type of manipulative imo. The guilt tripper, the "you're breaking your mother's heart" guy.

I also would have preferred better buildup towards how nasty he's being towards his mother-- or at least a little hint towards which previous incidents were fuelling this.

The writers are notorious for forgetting events and details from previous books. Is this resentment coming from how outspoken Tawnypelt was against him in the last arc? Her comparing him to his grandfather, a cat she named him after? Her failure to protect any of his siblings? Are ANY of these situations contributing at all, or are they just flying by the seat of their pants again

In a nutshell, there could be interesting reasons for him to be acting like this. Still, it can be hard to read, and something feels a little wonky. The writing has my attention, but not a fully formed opinion from me as of yet.

#Tigerheartstar #Changing skies spoilers #In any case this is all stuff I generally find quite fixable in BB #Just some relatively minor tweaks #Shuffling situations and wording so there's clearer escalation #Re; I like this character the most when they are heavily flawed but still understandable #So Id prolly lean more towards better establishing resentment between Heart and Tawny #Plus having Heart be more outright dramatic-manipulative rather than her doing her canon counterpart's cold-shouldering type

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loverslantern · 1 day ago

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Mirror- Dean Winchester x f! reader oneshot

Description: Reader doesn’t feel pretty so Dean tries to show her what he sees in the way he knows best: praise.

Warnings: It’s hot and heavy in here, inherently sexual but nothing happens, manhandling?, praise

Word count: 2k

Note: This is not only my first time writing something like this but also my first time writing something not related to The Hunter and The Witch series so please leave feedback!

I catch my reflection on the screen of my laptop and groan. My face looks weird today. It’s just one of those days where I just couldn’t feel…pretty or nice or any other adjective. It shouldn’t matter now when I’m alone in my motel room and researching for the next hunt. There’s no one to impress in the desolate room other than the four beige walls and a creaky bed.

It shouldn’t matter. To be fair it shouldn’t matter in general when beauty is an objective concept, and yet it does. I do not know the psychology behind it, maybe it’s a biological thing as animals would choose the mate that’s more appealing or strong to have offspring that can survive. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. This would just spiral into a psychological analysis that would only make me think of it further rather than ignore it.

It’s an obsessive thing, isn’t it?

Either way, I don’t like the way I look today. I couldn’t get my hair to look just right this morning and I tried so many up-do’s that my arms got sore. It still didn’t look right, so I left it down.

And my face just looks wrong. Maybe my eyes are too big or too small in proportion to the rest of my face. Or, maybe my jawline is too soft, perhaps I’m not rough enough. Perhaps I’m too rough. Somehow, every possible thing feels true.

I groan again, leaning my head back against the headboard of the bed, and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will get rid of it all. I’m meant to be focused on research. It was supposed to help. But stupid screens and their stupid reflections.

The jingle of keys forces my eyes open, my eyes landing on my door as it clicks open. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greets, casually inviting himself in.

“Hi,” I breathe. I suppose the consequence of giving someone a spare key is that they will use said key. But, I’m not that bad of a thing considering it’s Dean who’s walking in. “I’m gonna head to a bar, you in?”

“Eh,” I answer. “You go ahead. ‘Not feeling it tonight.”

He eyes me for a moment, squinting just slightly. “Not even as an excuse to dress up and listen to music?” he pushes. “‘My treat.” Of course, his treat meant a fake card or money he got from hustling. But, god the way he smiles and holds his hands up as he tries to convince me is cuter than it should be. “Sorry, Dean,” I say despite the sight, “Just not feeling it.”

His shoulders and smile drop, “Come on I’ll buy you as much (favorite drink) as you want.”

“You can go without me you know?” I point out as he saunters over to the bed and plops himself down. “We both know you’re gonna be leaving with some random girl anyway.”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his elbows, his black shirt flexing against his muscles. He knows I’m right. “I thought Sam was the nerd,” he comments, ignoring what I said by lifting my laptop off my lap and discarding it in the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you wanna go out? ‘You feeling okay?” he asks and for a moment as his eyes scan my face, I can see the concern pass through them.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I insist, trying to be as convincing as possible. Yet, he sees right through me, giving me a pointed look. He’s hard to lie to. I break, shaking my head, “Fine. I just…I don’t feel pretty today so I don’t really wanna go out.”

His eyebrows raise, his lips parting a bit as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “You?”

My eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, “….Yeah….” Who else?

He studies my face again and I worry he’ll see what I’m seeing. He’ll see I’m not pretty. His features soften regardless. “Come with me,” he announces, gesturing a hand to follow as he gets up from the bed. I don’t listen, giving him a confused and cautious look. “Come on,” he insists, his voice firm.

I hold back my sigh as I stand from the bed. I almost didn’t want to know what he had in store. But, he doesn’t leave me with much choice but to turn back as he takes hold of my hand. His hand is big and warm as it envelopes mine, butterflies erupting in my gut at the simple touch.

He leads me into the bathroom, his hand leaving mine to travel up my arms and to my shoulders, positioning me in front of the mirror. My hips press against the sink, his hands on my upper arms and his body close behind mine. He nearly looms over me with his tall stature, his head and eyes tilted a little down as he uses the mirror to meet my eyes. “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself,” he directs. But my eyes linger on him, on his pretty green eyes, sharp sculptured jaw, and his straight nose. His fingers tap against the skin of my upper arm, “Come on,” he encourages, his voice a little gravely.

I give in. He makes it so easy to give in. I pull my eyes from him and land on myself. A frown pulls on my lips as my eyes jump around my features, even my frown looks wrong. He squeezes my arms, gaining my attention back in the same second my gut lurches. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Eyes back on you, baby.”

Jesus.

Again, I force my eyes away and I can feel his burning gaze on me. “What do you see?” he asks. I scuff and roll my eyes, “Dean, I’m not—“

His hands rub up and down my upper arms. “Just—what do you see?”

I bite on my bottom lip. I look unamused. That’s what I’m seeing. I sigh, trying to humor him. “Myself,” I answer plainly.

He tuts, “Not what I meant, sweetheart. What do you see that you don’t like?”

Everything. That seems like an appropriate answer. But I can’t just say that and I don’t. I hardly want to share what I feel when it’s hard to put words to it. “How about this?” he says, his head dipping down to occupy the space by my neck, putting himself closer to my level than far above me. “I like your smile,” he admits, his voice so soft it’s like a rough whisper. “I like when you smile at me…” he squeezes my arms, “like I’m damn important.”

“You ar—“

“Uh-uh,” he hums again. “This is about you, baby.”

One of his hands drifts upwards, the muscles in his forearm flexing. The sight is nearly intoxicating as I watch it move in the mirror, resting at the base of my neck as he stands to his height again. His thumb brushes back and forth against my collarbone, his eyes downturned to his movements. “Keep watching yourself,” he reminds me. I hadn’t realized I was watching him but could you blame me?

He presses me back against him, his body solid and warm. I wonder if he can feel the increase in my heart rate. “And your skin…always so smooth. Hardly any scars.” He presses down on the base of my neck, encouraging my head to lean back against his chest. My breath hitches.

“Shows how careful you are, yeah?” I can almost feel his warm breath as clearly as I can feel my heart beating against my ribs. “You a careful girl?” His gaze is burning as it travels down me. “Yeah…” he drawls, eyes traveling back up. “You are.” His thumb taps once against my collarbone, reminding me to keep my eyes on myself which seems like an impossible feat now. “There you go,” he praises, his voice low.

My skin feels warm. My everything feels warm as if I am a furnace with the sole purpose of burning and he stokes the fire, poking at it, adding wood to keep it going.

“Those eyes,” he mumbles, and I can feel the rumble in his chest as the words protrude from his lips. “‘Damn pretty eyes. Then you give me that look…fuck.”

My eyes flick to his, something burning deep within my gut. He doesn’t scorn me for looking away from myself. “Yeah…” he whispers, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “That look right there. Eyes all big, your lips parted just a little.” His hand drifts up from my neck, gracing my jaw. His thumb presses on my bottom lip. “So pretty…” he mumbles. “‘Don’t know what you aren’t seeing. Can you look at yourself again baby?”

I do as told and my knees feel wobbly with the heat that pools within. It’s the sight of him rather than me. The sight of him practically playing with me. “Want you to know how pretty you are,” he mumbles. “How good you are. God, you’re so good.”

His thumb is a little wet as it slips from my lip onto my chin and my neck. His lidded eyes watch the slight mess he makes, his breath a little shallower. He hums, his chest rumbling with it. “Do you know what I think?” he asks.

“What?” I answer the single word sounding like a sigh. My eyes drop to my lips in the mirror, my bottom lip coated in a thin layer of my own saliva like a coat of lip gloss. My breasts press against my tank top, seemingly wanting to spill over with each shallow breath. The soft swells of skin peeking from the neckline. His hands drop to my hips, pushing me forward until they’re pressing into the sink with a force that knocks me forward a little, a gasp escaping my lips. I grip the sides of the sink to catch myself. His fingers press into my hips as he holds me firmly. His body looms over me as his eyes take in my bent-over form. Those stunning green eyes that usually resemble the greenery of a forest when the sun is shining through the canopy of leaves just right, now a darkened green like the parts of the forest the sun can’t reach.

His hands massage my hips roughly, pushing them forward before drawing them back. His eyes are downturned to the movement, his mouth parted a little in the same manner mine is. My breath is quicker, and my heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to escape the space behind my ribs. “What’d I say about keeping your eyes on yourself?” He says roughly despite his own distraction. I swallow roughly, forcing my eyes back on myself for the umpteenth time.

He continues his actions, eyes burning into my hips and my ass like nothing else matters. “I think…” he starts, circling back to answer the question he asked me before, one I forgot about. “I think it should be sinful,” the word is like a purr coming from his lips, “to look this good. To be so fucking pretty.” It should be ironic coming from him but why would he go through all this trouble, all this guiding, pushing, pressing to convince me of something he didn’t believe in? And I can see it. I can see it, through the fog of a bad day, exactly what he’s seeing, or at least part of it.

“Are you seeing it?” he asks in a low voice as if he saw the change in my eyes. “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding, “Yes, I see it.”

“Good,” he answers firmly, and yet I can hear the cocky smile that no doubt threatens his lips. Then, his hand circles around the back of my neck, tangling into my hair. He squeezes just once before he’s guiding me up, straightening me out ‘till I’m standing straight again. I spin in his hold, his large hands immediately going to my hips to keep me pressed into the sink. His eyes meet mine, something written in his irises that I can’t decipher. Then, they drop to my lips and then to my chest, that cocky smile finally making its appearance as his eyes drag back up to my lips. “Where’d you learn that?” I ask.

His smile widens as he answers, “You don’t wanna know.”

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #praise #dean Winchester x female reader #dean winchester x f!reader #oneshot #supernatural oneshot #hot and heavy #forgive me #dean winchester blurb #dean winchester x reader oneshot #dom! dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester oneshot #dean x y/n

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dedeinthewild · 2 days ago

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paul aron x reader, no labels

- “I’m carrying my body weight in presents, so shut it"

The magic of Christmas was something special—something that could mend relationships, make adults feel like children again, and bring together those who had drifted apart.

Colorful ornaments adorned towering Christmas trees, hiding the gifts underneath just a little. And if Christmas was spent with family, it became even more beautiful.

The girl Paul was closest to had caught the last flight to Tallinn before heavy snow temporarily slowed down the flow of passengers at the Estonian airport. She had settled into the beautiful villa where the boys lived. She loved Christmas, the preparations that came with it, the wonderful smiles of children, and all the little things that brought her joy.

She was the kind of person who was content with very little, always smiling beneath the glasses she wore to avoid straining her eyes—the same eyes Paul never got tired of looking into.

They hated putting labels on themselves or talking about their relationship. Between them, everything was so simple that trying to define it felt like an unnecessary complication for something so pure and clean. They had met by chance and continued to see each other between video calls, with the occasional late-night message when one of them had fallen asleep and the other needed to talk.

And so, an extra place was added at the table that year. Despite her mind telling her to spend the holidays with her family, as she always had, her heart needed to enter that home and experience something new. Everything was new for her there, except for a few people who had grown accustomed to discovering new parts of her—and adoring every one of them.

Perhaps some would call it a bold move to invite her to something as important as Christmas with the family, but as everyone thought, there was nothing more transparent than the affection she had for the Estonian driver, his family, and their traditions—not to mention the huge smile that lit up her face when she saw the children. They were so blonde they looked like a little team of angels.

“I really, really want to help,” said the girl as she sliced bread on a wooden cutting board, ready to set it on the table. Margit, who wanted her to enjoy the evening without lifting a finger, tried to dissuade her.

“If I were you, I’d let her,” Paul chimed in, stealing a breadstick from the container as he walked behind the women of the house and Ralf, who was checking whether the evening’s first dish was cooking properly.

She turned, giving him an amused look, her hair tied back in a messy bun with strands of her bangs slipping loose onto her forehead.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the Estonian said, crossing his arms and leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m not violent or anything, I swear,” she said, raising her hands in mock innocence toward the driver’s mother, who responded with a sweet, elegant laugh.

“I have something to say about that,” Paul teased.

“Have you decided you’re a pain in the ass?” Anna shot back, trying to chase her brother out of the kitchen by pushing and holding him by the arm.

“Everybody hates me. I’m done,” he declared, stealing another breadstick behind his back as he disappeared through the door to lift one of his nephews into the air. The child had been loudly calling for Uncle Paul.

The atmosphere was beautiful. From the kitchen island, Margit, Anna, and the family’s new addition could see the entire living room, where an explosion of joy brought color to an otherwise minimalist home.

All the children were seated around the tree, with one of the more distant uncles dressed as Santa Claus telling stories, while the Aron cousins worked on drawings that the kids would later sign.

Ralf had connected his phone to one of the speakers scattered throughout the house and started playing a Christmas playlist, making the girl wrinkle her nose.

But the best part was sitting down to eat together. The children sat at their own table, engrossed in a conversation about the latest cartoon to watch, while the adults discussed various topics.

One of the evening’s focal points was the girl herself. Sitting next to Paul, she answered an endless stream of questions from everyone. She was having fun, watching how Paul’s grandmother got emotional at every one of her answers while gently stroking her husband’s hand with her thumb.

“You’d make a perfect couple,” the elderly woman blurted out, pushing her glasses up her nose to get a better look at them. Both smiled, a hint of shyness softening their carefree expressions.

Paul passed her the dishes, asked if she’d like something to drink, and, when speaking with relatives in Estonian, would place a hand on her shoulder and whisper a translation before resting his chin on her head.

At Christmas, Paul changed a little. Amid the noisy table, he withdrew into himself, speaking only when spoken to, his gaze often fixed on the children’s table where they played. But that year, she had managed to make him an integral part of the group, encouraging him to open up and join the conversations with that radiant smile of hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asked while Anna had already whisked away the dishes to prepare for one of their family’s beloved traditions.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, looking into his eyes.

He ran one of his large hands through her hair, letting it slide to her shoulders, and smiled back. The way she looked at him—it was what anyone would call “the look of love.”

After a few rounds of the family game, everyone got up and moved to the large living room, ready to open the first gifts with the children, all of them returning to a childlike state themselves.

The girl had ended up in an armchair near the tree, with one of Paul’s older brother’s sons on her lap, giving her a perfect view of the whole group.

The girls tore through wrapping paper, revealing dolls and dresses with tulle, smothering their relatives in kisses and tying ribbons around their wrists, pretending they were at a ball.

On the other side, the boys, more focused on messing with Paul and Ralf’s hair, patiently awaited their turn to do the same, while the boys’ father tried to figure out where Margit had hidden the gifts.

“Go and set the table for Santa,” Margit said with a smile, gesturing for the kids to grab the milk and cookies from the kitchen island.

“Come with us!” A dozen excited, slightly sleepy children grabbed the girl’s hands, making her wrinkle her nose in amusement as they led her to the kitchen island, where the older kids grabbed the bowls.

Paul, sitting on the couch with Anna resting her head on his chest, watched her from a distance.

Just as he always did.

He observed the way she moved, telling stories to the children, lifting them up to set the table where they couldn’t reach, giving them high-fives that made their tiny hands disappear in hers.

She was full of nostalgia—that was something he had learned.

And seeing her like this made him so happy that he couldn’t even express it, warmth spreading through his chest and his lips curving into a soft smile.

“Why do I feel like if I ever brought a girl home, you wouldn’t love her as much as you love her?” joked Ralf, placing his hands on their mother’s shoulders.

“We love everyone the same,” she said, stroking one of her son’s hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you enjoy someone’s company as much as hers,” Ralf continued.

“She’s a good girl, she is,” nodded the father of the Arons, making them smile as she returned to the room with a child in her arms and the others following behind.

She looked at everyone, letting them know the table was ready for Santa Claus, and then softly rubbed the back of one of Paul’s little cousins, who was just moments away from falling asleep.

The mothers took their children to bed, changing them into pajamas with little reindeer on them and making sure they were sound asleep before returning.

“Who’s in charge of Santa tonight?” asked Anna, stretching her arms as she got up from the couch.

“Paul,” said Margit, patting his shoulder as he stood.

“Yes!” whispered the Estonian.

Christmas Eve was the one night, besides the kids, where he had no desire to sleep at all, and staying up late to put Santa’s presents under the tree and do something special made him genuinely happy.

“Goodnight then, and Merry Christmas,” said the middle Aron sibling, giving everyone a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re staying up with me, you know,” Paul said to the girl as he approached her, a grin on his face, arms crossed as he looked down from his height of six feet.

“Why did I already know that?” she laughed, tying her hair back again as the rest headed to their respective bedrooms, leaving only Alpine’s reserve driver to follow her into her room.

They changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, finally bringing out the gifts they had hidden in plain sight.

In the chaos of earlier gift-giving, no one had noticed that the two of them hadn’t exchanged anything, so now they found themselves doing so in the intimacy of her dimly lit room.

“Do we open them now or later?”

“We’ve got hours before we have to set the gifts, so now works,” Paul shrugged, trying to hide how excited he was to give her his present. He couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

The driver handed her the box he held in his hands, scratching the back of his neck with the other as he watched her begin to unwrap it.

Behind him, one of the house’s large windows opened onto the illuminated porch and gave a small glimpse of the darkness that usually gave way to the forest.

The Christmas lights, a warm white, framed the window and cast a soft glow inside the room, highlighting her silhouette.

He, too, was opening his gift, wearing a loose white shirt with the Grinch on it, his curls lightly tickling his forehead as he pressed his lips together and carefully untied the bow.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said.

“I thought we were well past that kind of politeness.”

“Oh, I hate you,” she laughed, adjusting her glasses on her face.

And then she saw it. A certificate.

“I can’t read anything,” she said, turning her back to him to catch the light from the lamp on his side of the bed.

Paul took the opportunity to wrap his hands around her waist, pulling her to sit between his legs.

“The star with the following coordinates was renamed on 12/08 by Paul with the name ____.”

She read the inscription beneath the photo of a stunning star against a deep blue background, running her fingers over the thick paper of the certificate.

He had named a star after her.

And that was the most beautiful gift, the most heartfelt declaration anyone could have given her.

“I knew you’d make me cry,” she said, turning to face him.

“Don’t, or Santa won’t stop by,” he teased, wiping her eyes with his thumbs before pressing a playful kiss to her nose.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close to her chest as though he weren’t twice her size.

And he loved it when she hugged him like that, making him feel so warm and protected—something no one but his family had ever managed to do.

Maybe that’s exactly why she was there that night, celebrating with them, closer to him than people he’d known since he was a child.

“And, by the way, your gifts are beautiful too,” he said, running his hands gently along her spine.

They talked about presents again hours later, lying on the mattress and chatting about anything and everything, just like they always did, trying not to laugh too loudly at the silly memes on their phones.

Their hair sprawled across the pillows, the blankets keeping them warm, the scent of the room was one they both associated with rest days, holidays, and happiness.

It was that soft, cozy smell—a mix of fabric softener, love, affection, and genuine feelings.

Whenever a video was especially funny, he’d wrap his arms around her, trapping her between his biceps to muffle her laughter while trying not to burst out laughing himself.

And before they knew it, the hour of Santa Claus arrived. While he scoured the house for the gifts his mom had hidden somewhere, muttering in Estonian, she grabbed some powdered sugar and made boot prints on the parquet floor.

“There’s one for you and me, too,” said the Estonian, balancing five or six boxes stacked in his arms as he walked without looking where he stepped.

“Watch your feet, idiot,” she laughed, fixing one of the Santa footprints he’d accidentally smudged.

“I’m carrying my body weight in presents, so shut it,” he replied, starting to arrange the gifts neatly under the glowing tree so the kids could easily find them in the morning before breakfast.

“Footsteps done.”

“Santa has to eat the cookies.”

“There’s a ton of them!” she complained.

“You should’ve taught the kids better,” he shrugged, stacking the gifts carefully.

A little while later, Paul joined her at the kitchen counter, biting into the carrot meant for the reindeer.

“Oh, I forgot you’re the healthy one.”

“As if you don’t like the fit version of me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ah! Got you. You said yes,” Paul grinned, winking as he washed down the carrot with some milk.

“Shut up, you’ll wake the kids!” she laughed, smacking his chest as she nibbled on a cookie.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured.

And after finishing the feast the kids had prepared for Santa, they walked past the Christmas tree, smiles on their faces and exhaustion finally setting in.

“You’re ruining all the footsteps,” she scolded, noticing that with every step, the driver’s foot came dangerously close to her creations.

He looked down, realizing how close he was, and in his attempt to avoid them, he lost his balance.

But she was there, placing her hands on his hips and helping steady him, even as she herself wobbled uncertainly.

And they laughed.

They laughed.

With powdered sugar on the floor, the taste of cookies still on their lips, and Christmas officially arrived, he cupped her face in his hands, brushing her cheeks gently.

And in the window, they were now reflected too.

Looking at each other with the eyes of love, as the lights illuminated them.

And outside, snow had begun to fall.

~ been working on this one for a few days and if I might say so, it's really worth it. I'm kinda feeding myself my paul obsession, but hey, I didn't find him under my tree so I might as well gift him to you💫

#f2 #f1 #motorsports #prema racing #formula racing #f3 #writing #paul aron #hitech #alpine #ralf aron #paul aron x reader #ralf aron x reader #anna aron #christmas #christmas eve

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castdust · 3 days ago

Text

heaven’s masquerade.

pairing : hanni pham x reader

about : An angel in disguise falls for a mortal, but their forbidden love risks exposing her true nature and defying divine law.

genre : angst

a/n : ‘cause i’ve been missing nj, here’s a hanni story! |

The sky was a bruised shade of twilight, neither day nor night, as Hanni descended. She cloaked herself in human skin, her wings folded into nothingness, her celestial glow dimmed to the flicker of an ordinary woman. She had watched humans for centuries from her perch in the heavens, curious about their flawed beauty and their ability to love so fiercely despite their fragility.

Hanni had come to Earth before but never lingered. This time was different. The pull was sharper, as if the universe whispered a secret meant for her ears alone.

She had to know.

The city buzzed with life as Hanni walked its streets. Her senses were dulled, muted by her disguise, but she could still feel the pulse of humanity — the laughter, the pain, the yearning. Her journey led her to a small bookstore tucked into a forgotten corner of the world, its sign barely legible under the weight of time.

That’s where she saw her.

Y/N.

Her dark curls framed a face etched with quiet sorrow, but her smile — that smile — was warm enough to crack open the coldest star. She stood behind the counter, flipping through a dog-eared book, humming a melody that Hanni couldn’t place.

The angel didn’t understand the sensation blooming in her chest. It was foreign, strange. A rope pulling her closer, demanding she stay.

“Hi,” Hanni said, her voice soft and uncertain.

Y/N looked up, startled, then smiled. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“I… I’m just looking,” Hanni replied, though she wasn’t sure what she was looking for anymore.

Y/N tilted her head, studying her. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

Hanni nodded, wandering the aisles, but her gaze kept returning to Y/N. She didn’t know what possessed her, but she found herself at the counter again, holding a random book.

“Good choice,” Y/N said, though Hanni doubted she even looked at the title.

“Do you always read when it’s quiet?” Hanni asked.

Y/N chuckled, a sound like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Always. Books don’t leave, you know? They stay. People don’t.”

Hanni frowned. “That sounds lonely.”

“It is,” Y/N admitted, her smile faltering.

Hanni wanted to say something, anything, but what could she, a being from another realm, possibly offer? Still, she found herself returning to the bookstore every day.

Y/N began expecting her.

“You’re a mystery, Hanni,” she said one afternoon, handing her a cup of coffee.

“Am I?”

“You talk like someone who’s lived a thousand lives, but there’s this… sadness about you.”

Hanni looked away. “And you? You talk like someone who’s given up on happiness.”

The words hung between them, heavy and raw.

Y/N shrugged, looking out the window. “Maybe I have.”

“What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, then sighed. “Someone I loved left. And I’ve been trying to fill the space they left behind, but nothing fits.”

Hanni’s heart ached in a way she didn’t think possible. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Y/! turned to her, eyes searching. “And you? What’s your story, Hanni?”

“I don’t have one,” Hanni said, too quickly. “Not yet.”

Their conversations grew deeper, their silences more comfortable. Hanni found herself laughing with Y/N, her celestial burdens feeling lighter. And Y/N? Y/N began to smile without the shadow of pain behind it.

One evening, under the glow of streetlights, Y/N reached for Hanni’s hand.

“Stay,” Y/N whispered.

“I’m here,” Hanni replied, though she knew it wasn’t entirely true.

Months passed. Hanni knew she was breaking rules. Angels weren’t meant to love mortals. They were watchers, guides, not participants. But every time she tried to leave, the thought of Y/N’s laughter, her touch, her soul, pulled her back.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Y/N said one night, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

Hanni froze, her disguise feeling too tight, too fragile. “You don’t know me,” she said.

“I know enough,” Y/N countered. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and you’ve made me feel alive again.”

“You deserve someone who can stay,” Hanni said, tears threatening to spill.

“You’re staying,” Y/N said firmly, gripping Hanni’s hand. “Aren’t you?”

Hanni couldn’t answer.

The day Hanni had been dreading came too soon. She stood at the edge of Y/N’s bed, watching her sleep, her heart breaking. She knew she couldn’t stay. If she did, she would lose her grace, her wings, and she couldn’t bear the thought of Y/N discovering her truth.

But leaving? That felt impossible too.

As dawn broke, Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hanni’s breath hitched. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not what you think I am.”

Y/N sat up, confusion and pain etched on her face. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not human, Y/N,” Hanni said, her voice cracking. “I’m… I’m an angel. I came here to understand humanity, not to fall in love. But I did. I fell for you.”

Y/N stared at her, disbelief and betrayal warring in her eyes. “You’re joking.”

Hanni stepped back, letting her disguise falter. Her wings unfolded, faint and shimmering in the dim light.

Y/N gasped, tears spilling down her cheeks. “This… this can’t be real.”

“I’m sorry,” Hanni whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then don’t leave,” Y/N pleaded, her voice breaking. “Stay. Be with me.”

“If I stay, I’ll lose everything I am,” Hanni said, her own tears falling freely now. “But if I leave, I’ll lose you.”

“Isn’t love worth that?” Y/N asked, desperation in her voice.

Hanni closed her eyes, every fiber of her being screaming to stay. But when she opened them, she knew what she had to do.

“I love you, Y/N,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I can’t stay.”

Y/N sobbed, reaching for her, but Hanni was already fading, her wings wrapping around her like a shroud.

And then she was gone.

Y/N returned to the bookstore every day, hoping, praying that Hanni would come back. The ache in her chest was unbearable, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

But Hanni didn’t return.

Not in the way Y/N hoped.

Instead, she saw her in the sunsets, in the gentle rustling of leaves, in the quiet moments when the world seemed to hold its breath.

And Y/N knew, deep down, that Hanni was still watching over her.

She always would be.

#hanni pham #newjeans hanni #hanni pham x reader #x reader #newjeans #pham hanni #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagine #hanni x reader

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phoenixeclipse-lmkau · 1 day ago

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what would happen if monkey!Reader was harassed by a male monkey who tries to woo her and really won't give up(let's assume this happens before the kings announces their courtship since i doubt they would lay a finger on her if they knew) pls i need i've been harassed, heavily uneasely catcalled and saved by a dude who intervened(my hero❤) and i need to portray this asshole dead

Okie! It looks like I am making an oc Monkie demon who is also an absolute prick! I mean not all of them can be ‘nice’ and respectful. Like Wukong and Macaque are assholes there is no doubt about that but they will defiantly not harass Reader into bed with them. They even make sure she know about the cave they set aside for females who are in heat, a cave which is guarded and watched to make sure NO MALES come barging in during such a vulnerable time. They respect that women can and will say no to sex.

Now our price of a monkey demon who I shall name Linshu is NOT like that at all. (Will probably add him into cursed warlords too… hmm. Sorry back to the ask) Let’s get to it.

“Doesn’t it look so pretty!” Spirit cheered as she held up a bunch of flowers in her hands, her face brimming with pure joy.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her pure excitement, ever since you two came to the island she was all smiles. Well after her short fight with her ‘dad’, but that didn’t last too long. You shook the thought away as she went back to looking at the flowers pointing out different ones, telling you the name and even the symbolism behind it. Her dad’s mate loved flowers and explained them to Spirit.

“Well look at these two beautiful ladies,” a new voice caught your attention causing both you and Spirit to turn and look at him.

Immediately Spirit’s face soured while you just looked. He must be someone Spirit met when you were exploring. You didn’t bother saying hello and frowned when your friend stepped in front of you.

“What do you want Linshu?” Spirit growled lowly.

“Can’t I say hi to the new troop members?” He asked with a smug smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at his attitude while looking him up and down. He was a short monkey demon with a dark grey pelt which was pretty well groomed, a rather toned body from fights, she could tell solely by the scars he had. There was a slash at his neck, one across his abdomen and another on his chest.

“Like what you see?” He asked proudly.

You narrowed your eyes again, he acted as though you should bow down to him. Where could someone get the nerve? He must be on some sort of power trip unless he always acted like this. If so then you didn’t want anything to do with this island at all.

“Not particularly, come on Spirit let’s go,” You said calmly.

Linshu’s face flushed in rage immediately gritting his teeth as if you had declared a fight against him or thrown some awful punch. You went to leave without any more talking when he grabbed your arm with a sneer. “Hold it there! You should be honored I’m giving you my attention!”

Your eyes darkened immediately before you moved and decked him across the face, hard. A low growl escaping your lips as you stood toe to toe with him. “Keep your hands off,” You growled. His grip didn’t move when he started yelling profanities at you, he was stronger and you hated that.

“Listen here, you should be honored that one of The King’s ACTUAL people are offering you a place here! You could be my mate and you would fucking love it. I am a powerful demon who is only second to the kings themselves. You have no right to deny me-“ He continued to yell at you.

“Let her go you prick!” Spirit yelled as she came over to help you, her tail lashing angrily.

Growling lowly you were about to speak when he suddenly released your arm and let out a pained cry. You were shocked to see Macaque’s hand on his shoulder, his grip tightening harder with each passing second. A dark threatening look settled easily across his face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned smoothly and the monkey immediately held still.

“N-Nothing my King, I was merely speaking with these women- Ah-AHH!” He shouted as blood dripped down his arm from Macaque’s claws.

“Hmm, it appears you don’t know your place,” His words were calm and steady even as his eyes burned with a very dangerous rage.

Loud footsteps came forward and you were shocked to see non other than Sun Wukong himself and to say his mate was the only angry one would be a lie. Rage covered his face while he held his staff over his shoulder, his grip tightly around it.

“Wukong my dear, would you please take these two out? I’m sure they would prefer not to witness this,” Macaque said calmly, while his tail lashed threateningly.

You didn’t even get the chance to say anything as Wukong pulled you away, Spirit following behind quickly. You were too far away to hear the sounds of his screams by the time Macaque began to- teach him a lesson. Not that you have much time to worry about it as Wukong takes you to the healer to check for any injuries.

All in all, you would definitely be in good hands the moment you come onto the island. Weather the two warlords have decided that they want you to be their mate yet or not. These two would definitely protect their troop from those not in it and those who are being assholes. Also that bitch dead, he died and is NEVER coming back. Hope you enjoyed Sleepy!

#dead dove do not eat #sun wukong x macaque #yandere sun wukong #yandere macaque #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #shadowpeach x reader #LMK OC #Monkie!Reader AU #Monkie!Reader lmk au #chu spirit oc #chu spirit

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silent-stories · 19 hours ago

Text

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: angst

Series masterlist

The soft sound of the baggage carousel echoed in the dimly lit terminal as Noah stood there, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. The past two days passed so quickly.

With the two days of traveling, performing and then traveling again, he had barely had time to think—except, of course, for one thing: you. And Luna. The thought of you two had never left him during the long hours on the road.

Noah smiled faintly at the thought of finally coming home. Even though only two days had passed, it felt like weeks, and now he just wanted to come back to you. He couldn’t wait to hold you again, to feel your arms around him, and to kiss you the way he had been missing.

Despite the physical exhaustion, his mind felt clearer than it had in days. He realized something during these past two days away: that no matter how Jason looked at you, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long, like he wanted you all for himself, the way he would go to the café just to talk to you, the way he would prentend to be so nice and kind now, he knew the truth.

You were Noah’s. And Noah was yours.

And the distance had done him good. Two days apart had helped clear the fog from his mind. He wasn’t going to let that gnawing insecurity eat at him anymore. He wasn’t going to let it ruin his peace, his relationship, or what he had with you. It didn’t matter how Jason looked at you or said—it was Noah you came home to. Noah you loved.

And that realization brought a sense of relief he really needed.

The soft murmur of his bandmates laughing and talking pulled him back to the present. Matt was the closest to him, fiddling with his phone, scrolling absentmindedly, while the others were cracking jokes about the tour.

"You almost tripped, I saw that!" Jolly laughed.

"Me? Nah, it wasn't me." Nicholas tried to convince him.

Noah chuckled to himself, his gaze softening.

He really couldn't wait to get his baggage, travel a couple of hours more and get home to you and Luna, but before that moment arrived, something caught Matt’s attention.

He had been aimlessly scrolling through Twitter, a little too tired to engage, looking at memes and raccoons pictures, but out of habit, he found himself looking up posts from the previous night’s show. Just some fan reactions and thoughts. And then, unexpectedly, it happened.

He didn't understand immediately. Why was that picture tagged as 'bad omens'?

Matt’s fingers froze as his thumb stopped scrolling. There was a photo, blurry and grainy, from a distance. It wasn’t much—taken at night, the porch barely lit—but there was enough detail to recognize that house. The one Matt has been many times to visit Noah, the one he’d been so proud of.

It was Noah’s house.

And standing on the porch, framed in the dim light, was you.

But you weren’t alone.

A man was standing too close to you—Matt didn't know who he was but he had a feeling he could easily guess. His hand was placed on your arm in one of the pictures, in another one, your hand was on his chest, your faces just inches apart.

Matt’s stomach twisted, and he leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the figure. This wasn't about him, it was about Noah, but still, his heart pounded a little faster as he clicked on the image to enlarge it.

Then, he looked at a couple of other pictures and a short video. It was you for sure. And that was Noah's house.

@/Erikka_1999, the original poster, had tagged the post with #badomens, #NoahSebastian, and #homewrecking. The hashtags were cruelly apt.

Matt didn’t need to see the comments to feel his stomach turn, this was the last thing he wanted to happen to his friend. But still, he scrolled down.

@/user7216: What the fuck is this?

@/noahstwitchstreams: wait is that Noah's gf?

@/lisa_omens: What is Y/N doing????

@/olisykesdavis: girl, not when noah is in another state

@/bomensandmore: This is so messed up...who tf is that man?

@/silent-stories: let's not jump to conclusions guys!!

@/concreteoomens: I KNEW ITTTT

@/noahsdailys: maybe they broke up??

@/user2727ii: they were together 2 days ago???

"Shit," Matt muttered under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief and frustration. His first instinct was to confront Noah, but even before he got the chance, the band began to gather their things, preparing to head toward the exit. Matt hesitated, then stood up quickly, phone in his hand.

He needed to talk to Noah. He needed to show him. He deserved to know.

Noah was standing by the baggage claim, his attention half on the carousel and half on his thoughts. The sight of the suitcases coming out on the conveyor belt didn’t even register to him; he was lost in the image of you, of coming home to you and telling you that the way be reacted in the past couple of days was a bit too much, that he was just scared of losing you, that he loved you.

He imagined the softness of your hands, the way your lips would feel pressed against his neck as you whispered his name again. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing you.

But then Matt was in front of him, holding up his phone up for him to see.

"Hey, man," Matt said, his voice unusually tense. "You need to see this."

Noah didn’t immediately register the urgency in Matt’s voice. "What’s up?" he asked, glancing up in confusion.

Matt shoved the phone toward him without another word, and Noah, a little confused, looked at it.

The moment his eyes landed on the screen, everything seemed to stop.

He could feel his blood run cold, his body stiffening as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. The first thing he saw was the porch—his porch—and there, standing in the weak light, was you. And the man standing far too close to you—no mistaking it—was Jason.

Noah’s breath hitched, and a cold sweat prickled down his neck. He didn’t even need to look at the hashtags, didn’t need to see the comments. He already knew what was happening. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was betrayal. There was no explanation for the short video showing of you pushing Jason into the house.

His hands started to shake. His chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of the world pressing down on him, suffocating him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“This... no. This can't be. Not again." His voice cracked as he whispered the words, trying to deny it, trying to make sense of it all, but he knew. He knew in his gut what this was.

Jason had been lingering, making his move, and now he was there—at Noah’s house, with you. The person Noah loved. The one person he thought he could finally trust and wouldn't stab in the back when he left for just two fucking days.

"I'm sorry, man." Matt whispered.

Noah's breath came in short gasps, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He didn’t even hear Matt's words.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” He finally managed to say, his voice hoarse and strained, barely holding it together. His gaze was still fixed on the screen, but he could no longer process the image. The betrayal was all he could feel. “Tell the others. I'll... I'll be right back.”

Without waiting for Matt to respond, Noah turned sharply on his heel and made his way toward the nearest bathroom, his heart heavy with the weight of everything crashing down on him for the second time in his life.

His mind raced as he pushed through the terminal, each step feeling like it was taking him further away from reality.

He shoved the bathroom door open, the bright lights inside feeling too harsh against the overwhelming darkness creeping in. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him and he realized no one else was there, Noah collapsed against the cool tiles, his back pressed against the wall, his knees weak beneath him.

His breath was ragged now, coming in shallow, desperate gasps. He felt like someone was pressing on his chest with a boot.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs. But all he could do was sit there, utterly devastated, his mind replaying the scene over and over— your hand on Jason's chest, you pulling him inside his house.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

His heart felt shattered, the pieces scattered and irreparable.

You were one of the most important people in his life. You were the one who proved to him that he was capable of loving again after Hannah had left him. You were the one who showed him that it was possible to be loved by someone who wouldn’t leave or break his heart a second time. Or so he thought.

Noah pressed his palm to his face, the weight of the betrayal almost too much to bear. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his skin and tangled in his own hair, trying to find something, anything to steady himself. But nothing worked. Nothing would ever fix this.

He hoped it was all just a bad dream, that any moment he would wake up next to you, at home. But as the minutes dragged on, the cold of the tiles beneath him became unbearably real.

He found himself wondering whether you would still be there when he got home, or if, like he had seen Hannah do once before, you would have already packed your things and left. He cursed himself for being so stupid, believing that this time things would turn out differently, that the universe wouldn't play the same trick on him once more.

The world outside felt distant, muffled, as he sat there alone in the bathroom, surrounded by the deafening silence of his own thoughts.

The morning light filtered through the window, gently brushing against your closed eyelids. You woke up suddenly, feeling a strange heaviness on your body. A deep breath, your heart racing a little faster, and then it hit you: you had fallen asleep on the couch, and Jason was still there, beside you. The scent of alcohol and smoke lingered in the air.

Damn it.

You didn’t even have time to check the clock before you were already shaking Jason, stirring him awake with urgency in your voice. "Hey! Jason! It’s time to get up, you need to leave. Get out. Of this house. Now." Your voice trembled, frustration and maybe a little panic slipping through as you tried to shake him out of his heavy sleep.

"Jason! C'mon! Get the fuck up! Go away and I never wanna see you again."

Jason stretched, his eyes barely open, but when they fluttered fully awake, his expression was one of confusion. "What? Y/N, calm—" but he didn’t finish his sentence.

Just then, the front door opened. Noah walked in, his steps heavy and deliberate, and the moment he saw the scene, his face paled, his breath catching in his chest. "What the fuck is going on here?!"

The air seemed to freeze. Jason’s eyes snapped towards Noah, and for a split second, everything went silent. Noah’s gaze was burning with anger, but there was something else there too, he was hurt. He looked at you for a moment, searching your face for an explanation, but the confusion gave way to rage as he took in the situation.

"Get the hell out, dude. Now." Noah’s voice was low, filled with an anger that you’d never heard before. His fists were clenched at his sides, his body tense.

Jason didn’t move immediately. "Man, wait, listen-"

Noah cut him off, voice rising. "I said, get out before I fucking break your face." The words were harsh, cruel, and they hung in the air between them.

Jason tried to speak, but Noah was already walking toward him. He reached forward, grabbing Jason by his jacket and showing him toward the door, not giving him a chance to argue.

Jason hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you.

"Get out of my fucking house!" Noah shouted.

Slowly, he turned and headed toward the door, but just before leaving, he shot one last glance at you. The look in his eyes was the look of someone who got exactly what he wanted, but you barely had time to register it before Noah slammed the door behind him.

This was part of Jason's plan, this was what he wanted. Damn, you had been so stupid.

"Noah..." you began as soon as he started walking toward you again, but the words got caught in your throat. You wanted to explain, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy. You knew he was going to jump to conclusions. The wrong ones.

His eyes were hard, though there was something raw in them too. Something that almost broke you. "What the hell is going on, Y/N? What the hell was that?"

You took a step forward, reaching for him, but Noah flinched away from your touch.

"Noah, please, let me explain—"

"Explain?" He cut you off, his voice shaky but full of anger. "What the hell do you want to explain? What is there to explain? He was here, in my house, with you!"

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back, knowing how badly you’d hurt him. "No, Noah, it’s not like that, please. You need to believe me. Jason was drunk. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t want to just leave him on the street. You weren’t here, I didn't want him to make a scene and wake half neighborhood up, trust me, it happened once, and—"

"No, Y/N." His voice cracked, and the pain in his eyes made your chest tighten. "No, this isn’t just some fucking misunderstanding. This is not the first time, isn’t it? This is not the fucking first time you make excuses for him. You’re defending him when he gets into fights, you keep his damn necklace, you try to convince that he's not still in love with you—and now this? What the fuck am I supposed to think, huh?"

His words felt like punches to your gut, and you could barely breathe. "Noah, I swear, it wasn’t like that. I love you. You have to believe me. Please, just let me explain. He was drunk as fuck and I didn't know what to do. Maybe I fucked up but it's not what you think and-"

He took a shaky breath, shaking his head as if he couldn’t even process what you were saying. "I’m not hearing it anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I thought you loved me. But since that motherfucker came back, it’s been like everything I thought I knew is falling apart." He looked at you, his eyes full of hurt. "I can’t keep doing this. Not this time. This... it’s too much."

You felt the tears begin to slip down your cheeks, the weight of it all crashing down on you. "Noah, please don’t say that. Please, I need you to believe me. I’m not—I’m not doing this to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Noah, I love you and I've been so fucking stupid to think that Jason maybe had changed and was a fucking normal human being now."

He stood there, his chest heaving as he took a long look at you. "What do you think this looks like? What am I supposed to think when I come home, and he is in my house, with you? Do you know there are pictures online? Pictures and videos of how he arrived here, talked to you a bit still outside and then you pushed him into the house. You probably didn't see them cause you were too busy fucking your ex while I was away for only two fucking days!"

"Fuck- Noah. You think I had sex with him? You think I really cheated on you?"

"Well, I don't know what to think anymore now!"

"Noah, he was drunk and I didn't know what to do! I didn't-"

"I don’t care!" Noah’s voice rose, cutting you off. "I don’t care. I don’t care what his fucking excuse is. You don’t get to do this to me. Not again. Not after everything we’ve been through. I can’t—" He stopped, his voice faltering for a second, but he quickly steadied himself. "I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I... this hurts."

Your heart shattered, and you took a shaky breath, staring at him, trying to process what he’d just said. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"

Noah’s face was unreadable, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. "I’m saying that I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to. This is the second time someone I loved broke my heart, okay? I can't - I can't do it anymore. I thought you were different. I thought I had something with you. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out everybody leaves me, eventually."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He’d already made up his mind.

"But I don't wanna leave."

"It's better if you do."

"Please, Noah," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please don’t do this."

He looked at you. More than mad at you, he looked so disappointed. "I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. And I don’t think I can." He shook his head, his voice quieter now. "You need to go."

You wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, to make him understand, but you knew it was already too late. The damage had been done.

You stood there, the weight of Noah's words still echoing in your ears, your heart a heavy lump in your chest.

The thought of never seeing him again hit you like a wave. Never again would you fall asleep in his arms, your body curling against his as you spent lazy nights together, watching anime until you both drifted off to sleep.

The way he would murmur nonsense into your ear as his fingers played through your hair, the sound of his rough, sleepy voice in the mornings that always made you smile.

Those little moments you had taken for granted. They would never come again. The mornings when you’d made pancakes, his hands brushing over your waist as he tried to help, the soft touch of his lips against the back of your neck as you laughed over something stupid.

And Luna. The thought of her growing up without you there, without you watching her change and develop into the amazing person she was meant to be. You wouldn’t be there for those milestones. You wouldn’t be there for her, and deep down, you knew she would forget you. She was not even four years old.

Maybe one day, as a teenager, she would find an old drawing made when she was just a child and wonder who that weird shape that looked like a woman next to her dad was.

That thought, that painful truth, made your chest tighten and tears well up in your eyes.

Maybe one day she would come to the café with her friends after a day spent shopping and wonder why that place seemed so familiar, why those cookies she had ordered tasted like home.

You didn't want to leave them. They were everything to you.

What hurt the most was knowing how much Noah had feared this. He had always been terrified of losing you, terrified of being replaced. You’d seen it in his eyes more times than you cared to count—the constant worry that one day, you’d leave him for someone else.

And now, here you were, standing at the precipice of exactly what he had feared. What he thought had happened between you and Jason had only confirmed his worst nightmare. And it was your fault. You had done this to him. It wasn’t what you’d wanted, but the damage was done.

And if you could go back to the night before, when Jason was on the doorstep, you wouldn't have hesitated to slam the door in his face, telling him that if this was all part of his stupid plan to get you back and ruin your life with Noah , he could go fuck himself.

You never, ever wanted to hurt him. If you could have taken back every single mistake, every moment where you had caused him pain, you would have in an instant.

Noah was really one of the best people you had ever known in your entire life. From the very first moment you had met him, you had felt something shift within you, something that you couldn’t fully understand at the time.

He had changed you, and not just in the way that love changes people. He made you see yourself in a new light, a better light. You had learned what it meant to truly be loved—without conditions, without hesitation, without fear. Every moment with him had been a treasure, a memory etched into your heart that you would carry with you forever.

But now, you were left with nothing but the crushing reality that you had shattered the one person who had given you everything. You loved him more than anything else in this world, more than life itself, but now you had to leave, if that's what he wanted. And you had no one to blame but yourself.

"Noah."

"Please." His voice cracked, his brown eyes were glassy. "Leave."

Your vision blurred, and tears started to spill relentlessly down your cheeks.

With one last glance around the room—at the life you had built with him, the house was starting to feel like home to you too—you stepped back.

"I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. You didn't deserve any of it."

You opened the door, knowing that this was the last time. The weight of your heart in your chest was unbearable, but there was nothing left to do but walk away.

You turned away, your heart breaking with every step. You walked out the door, knowing that something inside you had broken too.

Noah stood motionless in the center of the living room, the door closing behind you with a finality that rang in his ears like an executioner's bell. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

His body felt frozen, every muscle locked in place as if he was trapped in the aftermath of some devastating dream. His mind buzzed with the cruel reality of what had just happened —of how he had stood there, helpless, watching you walk out of his life.

After all, that was what he asked you to do. He was the one who told you to leave. Or maybe it was his broken heart speaking for him, either way the words had come out of his mouth. And you were gone now.

His chest was tight, every breath a struggle, as if the air itself had become too thick for him to inhale. The ache in his heart wasn’t just an emotion; it was a physical weight that crushed him from the inside out. His head was spinning.

The tears came slowly at first, like a whisper of pain that barely registered, but then they built, a flood that couldn’t be held back any longer. His chest shuddered with the sobs that ripped through him, his face contorting with the weight of his emotions.

He could feel the heat of the tears as they streamed down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. He didn’t care anymore. Every part of him was unraveling, every thought tearing him apart.

He thought of you—God, how he thought of you. The way you had been his light, his strength, the one person who made him feel whole again after Hannah had left him. He had never expected to love again, to trust someone like this, but you had proven him wrong. You had made him believe in something real. And now… now you were gone.

How the fuck was he supposed to explain this to Luna?

Her innocent eyes, the way she trusted him you trusted you. He couldn’t imagine telling her that the person she’d grown so attached to, was never coming back. What would he say? That it was because of something he couldn’t control? That he had been too blind to see what was right in front of him? How could he explain this heartbreak to a little girl who just wanted to see her world stay the same? How could he tell her that the woman who had made pancakes with her, who had hugged her and told her bedstime stories, was just gone?

At the thought of Luna growing up without you—his heart shattered. You two were his family.

Noah sank down to the couch, his hands gripping the fabric, as if holding onto something solid would stop the shaking. His breathing was uneven, ragged, as the tears continued to spill from his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes, wishing he could block out the reality that had crashed down on him.

He could still feel the sting of your absence, as if the very air was different without you in it. His chest was raw, empty, and he could barely catch his breath as the sobs wracked his body.

He had loved you so much. Too much. And now he was alone.

The door to the living room creaked open, but Noah didn’t hear it at first. His mind was consumed with the pain of your departure, with the image of you walking away, your back turned to him, leaving him in the ruins of what they had built together. He didn’t even register Luna’s small form standing in the doorway until she spoke.

"Daddy?" Her voice was soft, unsure, but it cut through him like a knife.

Fuck.

Noah froze, and for a moment, time stood still. His heart clenched at the sound of her voice—his little girl, standing there, her tiny face full of concern. She was holding Mr.Flop in a hand and she was wearing her favorite pink pijamas. She looked at him with wide eyes, confused by the sight of her dad crying in front of her for the first time.

He quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to clear the evidence of his tears, trying to appear strong, but it was no use. She had already seen him, her big brown eyes noticing everything, even when he tried to hide it.

Luna took a tentative step forward, then another, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. She came closer and then, in the purest, most innocent way, her little voice broke the silence.

"Are you sad, daddy?"

It was the way she said it—so sweet, so trusting—that made his heart break even more. His arms opened instinctively as she reached him, her small body pressing against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Dad's a bit sad right now. It will pass." He sobbed.

Noah held her tightly, burying his face in her hair, unable to stop the flood of tears. He couldn’t stop the sobs that shook his body, couldn’t stop the grief that felt as if it would swallow him whole. His fingers gently stroked her back as he tried to steady his breath, trying to reassure her, even though he couldn’t reassure himself.

“I love you, my Lu,” he whispered through his tears. “I love you so much.”

Her small hand patted his back, as if she understood, as if her little heart could feel his pain.

“I love you too, daddy." she murmured, her voice small.

Noah closed his eyes tightly, letting her words wash over him. The pain of losing you was still there, raw and crushing, but in this moment, holding her, he found a sliver of strength. For Luna. For her, he had to keep going, even when everything else felt unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You slid into the driver's seat of your car, the cool leather pressing against your skin as you closed the door with a soft click. The morning light filtered through the windshield, casting a soft glow over the interior, but it felt distant, too bright, too unforgiving.

The silence was suffocating as you took a deep breath. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, fingers tightening around it, trying to steady yourself. After what seemed like hours, the tears had slowed, but the ache in your chest remained, a constant, gnawing weight.

You sat there for a moment, letting the stillness surround you, as if the car could somehow protect you from the world outside. The quiet felt almost unbearable, pressing in from all sides.

The city outside, still waking up, seemed so far away, as if you were in a different universe entirely. Your body trembled, the quiet grief of what had just happened settling deeper with each passing second.

And then, without warning, the flood of frustration and pain burst free.

A scream tore through you, raw and guttural, a release of everything you had been holding back. It was a sound of pure anguish, as if your very soul was crying out. Your voice cracked, your throat burned, but you couldn't stop. You screamed until it felt like the very air around you was vibrating with the force of it.

When it finally stopped, there was only silence again. But it was different this time—empty, hollow, and exhausting. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and you slumped forward, your head resting against the steering wheel as you tried to catch your breath.

That afternoon, the dim lighting of the bar flickered slightly above them, casting elongated shadows across the cracked wood of the table. Jason sat back in his chair, a smug grin curling up on his lips, the scent of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. Across from him, Rick twirled the straw in his drink absently, his spiky black hair glistening under the dim bar lights.

Jason leaned forward, eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and mischief. “You know, man,” he said, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “I told you this would work. I was right. Noah and her, they're done. I'm aure they're done. Thank you for leaving in the middle of the road, I guess.”

Rick looked up from his drink, his brow furrowing, the slightest flicker of concern in his eyes. “Wait. What do you mean? You actually think it worked?”

Jason smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. “You heard me. I'm sure they broke up. Just like I said.”

Rick blinked, processing for a moment, his fingers nervously tapping against the edge of his glass. The memories of the past—of all the stupid things they had done together—flickered behind his eyes. He remembered the convenience store incident, the stolen bottles of Jack Daniels, and how everything had spiraled from there. He’d followed Jason then, blindly, and here he was again, stuck in the same orbit.

He remembered the graffiti on private properties, the cops outside his house for disturbing the neighborhood with music in the middle of the night, the arrest for getting into a fight during a band's show in the city center, the time he bought a gun from a complete stranger, when he had lost a bet and had walked naked for thirty minutes through the streets of the town.

But this time, for the first time, Rick felt bad about it.

He cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. “So... you think she’s gonna come back to you now?”

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table, his blue eyes distant as he considered Rick’s question. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. But who cares at this point? At least she’s not with Noah anymore.”

Rick shifted in his seat, discomfort gnawing at him. His mind was racing, piecing together the past and present. Jason was always like this—getting what he wanted, no matter who he had to hurt to get it. But this? This felt different. He could feel it in his gut, a quiet voice telling him this wasn’t right.

“And if she doesn’t come back to you?” Rick asked carefully, his tone almost guarded. “What then?”

Jason’s eyes hardened, the smirk turning into something colder. “If I can’t have her, neither can Noah.” He took a long sip of his beer. "And honestly, that's all that matters now."

Rick was starting to realize that that was wrong, but he stayed silent, unwilling to question Jason just yet. He had always been loyal, too loyal for his own good. He’d followed Jason into trouble before, and this felt like just another step down a familiar path. But the pit in his stomach kept growing, gnawing at him.

Jason’s eyes gleamed, satisfied with himself, as if he had already won.

Rick took a deep breath, trying to swallow the rising discomfort. He remembered when they were just a little more than kids, how Jason had always been the one with the plans, with the schemes. And Rick had always followed, too trusting, too eager to please. But this? This was different.

“You don’t think...” Rick started. “You don’t think you’re being a little... I don’t know... messed up? I mean, she’s not some... prize, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes flashed, a brief moment of anger flickering beneath the surface. “Don’t tell me what she is, Rick. You don’t get it. She doesn’t belong with him. She belongs with me or no one else.”

Rick couldn’t argue with that. He had seen the way Jason always believed he was entitled to everything he wanted, and in his mind, this was no different. But there was a nagging doubt inside him, something that was slowly starting to unravel the threads of loyalty he had to Jason.

“You really think you can just take her from Noah like that?” Rick asked quietly, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Jason didn’t hesitate. “Why not? If I can’t have her, I’m damn sure not letting Noah keep her.”

Rick met Jason’s eyes, searching for some trace of the friend he had once known, the one who had stood by him, who had shared his ridiculous ideas and reckless plans. But this time he wasn't sure he agreed with his ideas.

Jason leaned forward again, his voice lowering. “I won, okay? I fucking won, dude. Thank you for your help."

Rick said nothing. He simply took another sip of his drink, the cold liquid feeling like it couldn’t even touch the knot of guilt building in his chest. Part of him still wanted to believe Jason, wanted to go along with it. But another part of him was starting to wake up—to realize how much damage Jason was willing to cause just to get what he wanted.

And Rick wasn’t sure he could be a part of that anymore.

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