#through bolts bunnings

[mysticmoosenger]

thinking ab a loser!choso who is oblivious to your class crush on him! (part 1)

cw: y/n is down bad, pining, maybe mutual pining, slightly suggestively spicy, sfw, part two will def be nsfw

normally, you’d have no issue skipping the dumb 9am math class that you had to take to graduate. but… that’s normally. having a class crush that you are so down bad over is not really normal for you though. you swear that he unlocked a new type for you, and that you could never go back to everything you have always said you liked in a guy previously. this guy was just… different.

somehow, you developed what honestly feels more like obsession than a crush on the emo boy who sits in the back corner of the lecture hall.

it had all started when you were running 20 minutes late… on the first day of class. naturally, by the time you got there almost all of the seats were full. you weaved your way back through the rows to one of the only spots available, right next to him.

from the few seconds you made eye contact with him you could have swore you had already soaked through your panties. his dark, smudged eyeliner lined eyes lingered on yours for a bit before he ripped them away from you to play with the several rings he had on his fingers. oh… the the things he could do with those hands.

you drank in his appearance, he had messy black hair tied up in two high buns and several piercings lining his ears. his face was adorned with an eyebrow piercing, a septum piercing, and a lip ring. a thin black line stretched across the bridge of his nose, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually a real face tattoo judging by how heavily tatted the rest of his visible body was from the areas not covered by his baggy jeans and loose band tee. as he was moving his bag closer to his chair to give you a bit more room next to him in the cramped seats, his arms flexed revealing massive biceps and a few prominent veins marking his hands. wow… wonder if the rest of him is that ripped too?

despite slowly trying to get closer with him, he remained oblivious. or you thought so, at least. eventually, after several weeks of trying to make moves, you finally got somewhere. by sheer luck, and probably fate too if we are being honest, the professor had selected him to be your partner for the big end of semester project. he typed his name and contact info into your phone, also giving you his snap. while you don’t use snap much anymore, you certainly would be now. as he was handing you your phone back, his fingers brushed against yours and sent what felt like lightning bolts across your body. while you didn’t see it, his ears blushed and he had to turn away to “look for a pencil” in his backpack. this poor, oblivious boy.

the second you got home, you sent him the first snap…

(part two coming soon)

[deusfoundry]

in retrospect, there's really no other way this night could've possibly ended.

zayne likes to think that he tried. that he had exercised as much restraint as he could. that the only reason he's got his lips on your skin, planting wet kisses that trails along the path of your collarbone, is because truly, he's been pushed to the brink of his self control.

but is he really to blame when you looked absolutely divine in that dress?

"z-zayne, we have to go ..."

your words fail to register in his mind, anything and everything but the tiny sounds you make enters one ear and slides right out the other. he almost feels bad now, the memory of how ecstatic you were when he'd invited you as his plus one to a banquet hosted by akso hospital three weeks ago flashes before him. how that excitement grew tenfold when you told him about the dress you'd bought to surprise him with.

and he certainly was surprised, pleasantly so, when the sight of your bare back greeted him as he entered his bedroom.

zayne stops in his tracks, feet feeling like they've been permanently rooted to the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

you're seated in front of the vanity table he'd put together for you. the size of it is nothing like the one you have at your apartment, but it shares a similar design, the same wooden accents. it's enough that you can get ready for anything without having to make a stop at your place. he'd bought it when you first began to spend the night at his apartment.

lately though, you've been spending the better part of each week in his place. zayne's been reminding himself to build up the courage to ask you to move in with him.

he's supposed to be used to this. to your back facing him. to your eyes lighting up when you catch sight of his figure through the reflection of your vanity mirror. to you pausing in the middle of your routine to turn around, greet him with that smile of yours that sends an ache in his heart.

but this damned dress.

he forces his feet off the floor to move towards you, his heavy footsteps catching your attention. you flash him a sheepish smile, your eyes flitting towards the jacket of his dress suit draped on his arm.

"have i been taking too long?" you ask, hurriedly dragging the tip of your eyeliner to your lids.

"no," zayne stalks close enough to place his hands on the back of your chair. he drinks you in, eyes casting downwards to the fabric pooling at your lower back. your hair is pulled up to a loose bun, fastened with a clip shaped into a snowflake, leaving your bare shoulders to view. he takes the thin strap of your dress betwixt thumb and forefinger, fighting the immense urge to pull the flimsy fabric off.

it's a losing battle, and zayne succumbs to his desires in a matter of seconds. he leans down, planting one tender kiss on the base of your neck.

he holds your gaze through the mirror as he releases his hold on the strap, letting it fall just above your elbow. he uses the same fingers to map out the scars littered on your back.

"no, you're alright."

"i'm-" your words get caught in a choke. "i'm almost done. why don't you wait for me here?"

"of course." zayne kisses your cheek before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. his eyes bore into you with an intensity that you can feel, enough to induce a tremble in your hands as you add the finishing touches to your make up.

"done!" you begin tidying up your table, placing the brushes back to their compartments. "just need to put my heels on."

"allow me." zayne very nearly bolts from the bed. he takes your heels by the straps from their place beside your vanity.

slowly, zayne kneels before you.

it's then that zayne notices another ... feature of your dress, discovering a slit that goes right up to your thigh. he freezes, hands ghosting your ankle, a field of smooth skin staring at him. possibly taunting him. definitely not helping his pants that seem to be growing tighter by the minute.

"love? are you okay?"

and you had the nerve to ask. surely, you must be aware of your effect on him by now?

"yes." he breathes out an apology, sucking the air through his nose as he slides your feet into the shoe. his fingers find the straps, wrapping them around and working up your leg the way he's watched you do so countless times before. he moves closer, reaching behind your leg to tie the straps together into what he hopes is a neat bow over your calf.

zayne repeats the process with your other shoe, but this time, he lets himself linger. lets his fingers run past your leg, over your knee, until they land on your thigh. lets them prod lightly at the flesh, encasing the muscle with his palm. lets himself lean down, low enough that from your point of view, it looks he's bowing to you.

he places a kiss, first over the strap of your heels that he's just worked on, the material an odd intrusion to his moisturized lips. then another, on your knee. and finally, his lips replace the palm on your thigh.

you shiver at the sudden loss of warmth, but you find soon enough that zayne never intended on keeping his hands away from you for long.

his hand glides further up, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress where it finds itself a home there.

zayne is too caught up in you, plush skin, enchanting perfume, this godforsaken dress, to hear your voice. he's only knocked out of his trance when he feels your hand cup his cheek.

"zayne?" he looks up, chin resting on your thigh. there's a flush to your cheeks, an obvious difficulty in the way you breathe. "we're going to be late."

he nods, pushing himself off the floor. he holds his hand out for you take and gladly, you slip your hand into his with a smile, using him as leverage to stand up.

zayne makes it about halfway through the living room before something in him snaps. he strides across his apartment, footsteps quick and erratic, almost tripping over his own feet.

you hear him from where you stood before his front door, turning around with the knob between your hand to ask him if he's okay. you get barely a word out of your mouth when zayne crashes his lips onto yours.

and that's how you find yourself now, pinned against the door of his apartment, clinging to his shoulders as your legs begin to go limp.

zayne kisses you everywhere, frenzied lips travelling from your neck, the exposed skin of your cleavage. he gives you not even a second to breathe before he's back on your lips. his hands behave similarly, squeezing at every inch of skin his fingers come across.

"i'm sorry." he sends a stream of warm air to your neck, nipping lightly at the skin. "it's just- you look so- god, it's this dress."

"the event-!" zayne cuts you off by sucking at your neck hard enough that it's bound to leave a mark.

"to hell with it."

you yelp when he cradles the back of your thighs to lift you up with ease. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his lower back, bringing him close enough that you can feel the bulge poking through his pants.

"the things you do to me..." zayne whispers over your lips. he eases your entire body into just one of hands, the other moving up to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "god, you have no idea."

except, you think you know exactly what you do to him, when he starts making his way back to the bedroom, lips eternally attached to yours.

[imorynn]

˚ʚ ── mi 𝙣𝙚𝙣𝙖, pretty 𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙮 ( ᴀ.ʜᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ • ʀ.ᴠɪᴅᴀʟ )

˚ʚ pairings : agatha harkness ✗ fem!reader ✗ rio vidal

˚ʚ genre / mentions : nsfw (18+) throuple, established relationship, fingering ( rio giving to reader ), pet names, spanking, submissive!reader, agatha being rough, rio being more soft than agatha, pet names, rio speaking just slight spanish — affectionate!

˚ʚ word count : 1.2k+

˚ʚ author’s note : this is to be longer in a next fic — just had to get this out of the way :,>

──"S-shit!" your squeal was justified — although do not tell Agatha that — this was the thirteeieth time she had landed a cruel, dragged out blow on your ass.

"What was that, dear?" She squeezed down on the distressed fat of your ass, taunting a smile when you whimpered at the pain. "Oh! Would you listen to that, hmm." You were not certain if she had been speaking to you or the bronze skinned woman whose lap you were currently bent over, and you groaned internally. "I didn’t take you for having such a naughty mouth especially when you’re in this position — should I start over?”

Your lips parted as you fervently shook your head, body flinching away from the featherlight caress of Rio’s thumb that made its discreet way to your clit, your slick clinging onto her skin. The searing humiliation at the pleasure the act brought upon, around, and through you made you so fucking wet while Agatha just condescendingly cooed in this deriding tone, her grinning mouth softly skimming your nape, “This hurts, bun?”

Your fingers dug into Rio’s arm, nails slicing into the skin yet she did not seem to mind. Her own digits were now carving into your walls so deeply, in such a fucking leisured pace compared to Agatha’s bolting actions. It caused pained jolts to crawl up your spine, dizzying you because of the contrasts, the differences between their touch, their way of handling you.

“Hey, don’t be so mean to her … I’m sure she’s learned her lesson by now, verdad, mi nena?” ( right, my girl?)

Your thighs constricted together from how desperate they both make you feel, almost pathetic enough to make Rio want to chastise you, to tell you to get a grip of yourself or else this little punishment would continue being dragged out, yet she lamented, deeply sighing when her digits slipped out of your tightness. Her head tilted down to press a soft kiss on your dampened temple, voice hushed only for you to hear in this moment, "Sweetheart, you gotta keep it together. You know how Agatha gets… just a bit more.”

Yet the octave of your whimpering increased with each second passing, your clutch on Rio’s forearm providing you the little bit of strength to hold yourself up against Agatha’s strikes. However, you did not concede from the two witches. A resilient pretty little thing you were; they admired you for that. They admired more that you were theirs and theirs only.

Your fragile sniffles within the thickening air —accompanied by Rio partaking in dabbing away the tears kissing your waterline — made Agatha’s frown of distaste deepen, the bridge of her nose scrunching in vexation as her heated palm kneaded over your contused ass. There had been inflamed blemishes branded everywhere, all in the shape and form of her palm and her fingers, and her lips parted as she tenderly parted your thighs, grabbing at your cheeks and spreading them so perfectly until both of your glistening slits were winking at her.

"You don’t know her as well as you think then. She apparently hasn’t learned anything. She isn’t going to if you keep buttering her up and playing ‘good cop’," she deadpanned, her touch creeping through your puffy folds, scoffing when you whimpered beneath her. "This is making her wet. Look at this, such a horny little slut, aren’t you?"

Prudently, your chin dipped down before lightly rising again in a nod. "Can't help it, Ag," you mumbled softly, beseeching doe-eyes lifting to meet with Rio’s dark aligned-brown ones when Agatha’s other hand enveloped your aching hipbone in a bruising grip. You groaned under the rush of pain, then exhaled, and she took this as her opportunity to slap your behind again.

"Oh, but I think you can, bunny." There was an edge to her tone as she loosely curled her fingers into her palm, knuckles brushing against your swollen clit so very lightly, her jaw becoming more prominent at the sound of a moan and an exhale — all sealed in one — leaving you. Her hand which had been on your hip ascended under the subtle shape of your jawline, ivory fingertips prodding into the flesh as heat drummed over it. The position gave her leverage in pulling off of Rio’s thighs and snapping you completely back against her, your front exposed and scrutinized by the Green Witch’s devouring gaze. Rio’s expression was a flawless balance of devilish yet floored from the sight before her, and that sent a tingle spiraling right up your curved spine.

"You were the one who begged me to have another in this —and out of aaall people, you chose that one right there,” Her blue irises shifted and glanced at Rio who, currently puncturing tender-open mouthed kisses to your hip, could not help the smirk forming at Agatha’s involuntarily flushed expression from her other lover’s gaze but tried to minimize it with her hissed out words, “and I sooo generously granted you this — sharing you. Now you've got two of us. And there really shouldn’t be a reason why you should be touching yourself without us. It's one of the rules."

A cry spewed past your lips as Agatha’s hand came down, sharply colliding with your ass, and she let you fall across Rio’s lap once more. Pain spasmed throughout your entire body, electricity crepitating throughout your every fiber as you quivered under her. Your senses rang and blurred, your vision becoming dark and speckled, and you endeavored to blink back the tears cluttering at your lashes as threats of unconsciousness blurred at your borders.

"That’s it … be a good girl and come back to us, pretty bunny."

Agatha’s precious face flooded your mind, and you smiled up at her dumbly, a breeze of air brushing against the raw plump skin of your ass. "Verdant," you faintly breathed out, eyelids fluttering shut at the feel of Rio’s fingers already smoothing over your ass, her lush lips and tongue assisting in soothing the swelling. "Verdant. ’m okay, Aggy, that one was just a bit hard."

Agatha’s brows hitched, and there was a rare gentle beat of hesitation which breezed through the air before her lips pursed, cheekbones accentuating from the pretty action until her lips dominantly, amiably molded against yours. You basked in the intimacy, your stomach tightening as her fingers pressed into the apple of your cheeks, your ass bucking into Rio’s touch.

"Very good girl indeed, preciosa ( precious )," Rio’s words were mumbled against the perspirated skin of your neck, a hiss arising from your throat as she rewarded you by rubbing her fingers over your ass once more. She sculpted the globes with such certainty, taking in the way they shook within her palms before humming — pleased, fulfilled. "I'm proud of you."

"I guess, in a way, she’s learnt her lesson." Agatha affirmed from above you while her fingers tangled into your disheveled strands, the tip of her nose lovingly nuzzling your cheek. She inhaled your inebriating fragrance that coalesced with Rio’s petrichor essence, letting it swirl within her lungs before pulling back, a daring expression sculpting her angular features. “Haven't you, bunny?”

Your lips could not help but stretch into a gorgeous, dazed grin that made the purple witch’s heart accelerate. A sweet kiss converged with the corner of her mouth and your round eyes maintained sincerity and you softly spoke. "I have. No more touching myself without you two."

"Good girl, hon’. You know I hate having to punish you."

Her tone, of course, indicated that she was lying — she was not even making an effort in trying to hide it, given the devilry of a spark in her eyes and the way she smirked down at you and gave you another peck. Though the Green Witch remained silent, her smirk lurking her lips as she leisurely alleviated the burning blaze of your skin, her motions tender and amorous, occasionally letting her touch stray from you to Agatha, just acting upon the urge to touch you and crawl under her skin.

And in truth, you would not have it any other way when it came to being sprawled across either or’s lap.

[femmeroll]

please could you write sevika dating a ballerina reader??? it can be headcanons (nsfwplss) or a short fic or whatever you like, thank uuu 🩷

i adore this!! thank u for the request my lovely ♡

sevika x ballerina!reader

cw: smut & fluff, hyperfemme reader, butch sevika, oral (r!receiving)

when sevika meets you, it’s like something out of a cheesy rom-com. it’s the middle of a cold, grey winter, and there you are at the bus stop. hair in a tight bun, legs adorned with light pink tights, and a frilly leotard to match. your zip-up jacket doesn’t conceal you at all from the bitter weather.

the second sevika sees you, she starts unzipping her heavy winter coat. the temperature was piercing, but she didn’t care. there was a cute ballerina freezing to death right next to her!

“hey…would you wanna borrow this? it’s way too cold for a light jacket like that, don’t want you to get sick or something.”

and the second you see sevika, light blush on her face with a hand outstretched to offer her jacket, a thousand lightening bolts shock your heart. you don’t yet know who this incredibly kind a wickedly handsome person is, but you know in your gut that you will find out.

you get sevika’s number so that you can ‘meet up’ to give her the coat back.

sevika asks you out after texting back and forth for a few days. she invites you to a cute cafe in town, one of those pretty ones that are covered in plants and vintage art.

you bring her coat to return it, but she insists that you keep it.

she pays for your drink and your pastry without hesitation. sevika is fidgeting with her sleeves the whole time. acting all shy as if she’s some high schooler who’s about to hold hands with a girl for the first time.

the two of you spend a whole afternoon getting to know each other. you learn all about her mechanic job and her two dogs and how she really likes doing crossword puzzles. she learns about how you’re a professional ballerina and you spend all your time at the dance studio.

sevika is so smitten it’s unreal. and when she sees you wearing her jacket when your ready to leave, she knows its game over. her heart can’t take it.

dating sevika is a literal dream. she’ll take you to every rehearsal and be in the front row of every single performance.

after every performance she greets you with a bouquet of flowers and the proudest smile plastered on that handsome face of hers.

“you were amazing as always, baby. i was cheering your name so loud at the end! did you hear?”

sevika will rub your sore feet after you’ve been in point shoes all day. every dancer knows just how fucked up your feet can get from those things. she’ll help you soak them in a salt bath and raise them up while she gently massages the pain away. she’s always gentle with you.

sevika prefers date nights at home. her perfect evening with you includes cooking you dinner, eating with you in the living room while watching a movie, and splitting you open in bed.

on the topic of the bedroom…

the first time having sex with sevika is after dance rehearsal. you come to her apartment exhausted and stressed about an upcoming performance.

while you’re trying to rant to your girlfriend, she gets a little distracted. every inch of your gorgeous body is on display in your tight leotard. and the way your legs are clothed in those sexy tights…she wants to eat you alive.

“…and the choreographer was being ridiculous. my feet were sickled for maybe half a second and-”

“can i help you relax?” sevika interrupts.

she gently grabs your hips with a smirk, peeling the straps of your leotard down.

“so worked up, aren’t you babe? let me make you feel better, please.”

sevika frees you from your tight dance clothes and nearly moans at the sight of your body. bare and needy, and it’s all for her. she gently lays you down on her bed, kisses trailing from your lips and throat to your stomach and thighs.

she licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, warm tongue sending shockwaves through your veins. she groans at the taste, greedily lapping at your pussy. she can’t get enough of the sweetness of you. and your cunt is nearly drooling over the way she eats you like you’re her last meal.

“god, you taste so damn good,” she growls into you, eyes dark as she pushes her tongue inside you. her nose rubs on your clit with every movement.

you’ve never cum so quickly in your entire life. watching her eat your pussy like a woman starved, the feeling of her hot tongue, her nose on your most sensitive bundle of nerves. it’s no wonder your eyes are rolling back into your skull after only a few minutes.

you clench around her tongue, whimpering out her name as she works you through your orgasm. once you start squirming from overstimulation, she comes up to kiss you.

“that make you feel better, baby?”

[ohnogemini]

Do No Harm

Hello - its Gem again ✧⭑๋ I wrote this fic about 6 months ago when I was in a weird place and just now got around to edit it and make it presentable. I hope you enjoy ♡⊹

✶ Word Count: 19k (sorry)

★ Genre: !afab reader x Bang Chan

✹ Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors Do Not Enter

❀ Comments: Tropes used: friends to lovers. Mentions of anxiety, depression. Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of Ex husband (not skz). Self deprecation. Slow to smut but it gets there. Unprotected consensual sex ; some cursing ; very light d/s dynamics. Please let me know if I left out any big TW/CW.

‎‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

Nothing could have prepared you for the deep wave of nausea that hits you. The week had moved fast, too fast for your mind to process what occurred. Nothing is particularly shocking about the events; you knew it was coming. Bolting awake without an alarm on Saturday morning, firm, bright light fighting its way through your dark blue curtains, you find yourself lightly gasping and clawing at the damp sheet that’s covering your half naked frame.

Alone. Truly alone, again.

Yanking the sheet off, you rush into your bathroom and flip on the icy water from the sink faucet. The soft churning of the water and its cool contents hitting the porcelain pulling your focus from the pit in your stomach. You pull your hair into a quick bun at the back of your head with the hair tie sitting to your right, still on the counter from a few nights earlier, and stick your wrists in succession under the water, shocking your system into rebooting. You signed the divorce papers late Tuesday evening. Work was busy enough that you hadn’t had a chance to sit and think about it during the day. Two emergency surgeries this week: a large German Shepherd with a broken femur and a young cat struggling to birth on her own. Both were successful, and you’re ashamed to admit that if they were not, you’re unsure how you would have been able to deal with it. By night you were so exhausted from your early mornings that a glass of wine and a plate stacked with an assortment of veggies, cheese and deli meat was all you could muster before falling asleep in bed or on your large, too comfortable couch. TV turned loud enough to drown out your thoughts but quiet enough to lull you to sleep.

The freezing water brings your attention forward and you inhale deeply. A soft shake cascading down your spine as the breath leaves your lungs. Glancing up at yourself now would be a mistake. Instead, you’re softly pushing the tap off, placing your hands on the cool countertop and shutting your eyes to reel your breathing back in.

As if on cue, you hear your phone with its unsettling, cheery ring going off in your bedroom. Not the time, you think to yourself. The phone continues its lively tune until whoever is caught on the other end goes to voicemail. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message. However, the phone barely stops its melody before it starts again.

Aggravation seeps into limbs. How dare someone interrupt my panic? My pain? This moment is for you alone. No one else needs to see or hear how pathetic you feel right now. But what if they can help? It wouldn’t hurt for them to try. But it would hurt. It would hurt you for them to try and fail. Knowing it was foolish for the attempt. It would hurt them to give their all in sweet sincerity just for you to still be a pile of lost puzzle pieces at their feet by the end. You push off the sink and trail your way around the bed to your nightstand, wiping the water from your wrists and hands on your sleep shirt as you reach for your still ringing phone. The contact is there, lit plainly. As is the clock above it that reads 11:38 AM. A rush of guilt, or denial pinches your nose and brows together. You rub your eyes, press the green button, and give yourself a few seconds before lifting the device up to your ear. “Hey,” you try to conceal the shakiness, but anyone with ears can hear it. “Hey Bug, sorry I called you twice, but this is time sensitive. Are you busy right now?” his voice is strained also but nowhere near the same edge as yours. “No. I was just cleaning the bathroom.” A harmless lie. It will make sense of the tiredness in your voice.

“I thought you only cleaned on Sundays?” He’s not pushing, just a genuine question. Of course he remembers that. You roll your eyes slightly. “I spilled some coffee on the floor yesterday morning and didn’t have time to properly clean it. Sue me for not wanting sticky feet.” You’re unsure why you continue the lie. You could have easily just brushed past it and moved on. Deceit never did feel good on you, but in this moment, your endorphins have come down from your rude awakening and the embarrassment is pushing you to cover it up. “Anyways Chris, what’s up?” Just divert it. You can hear a soft laugh from his end. He seems nervous, and you’re not sure why he is but you’re also nervous. You hope your emotions aren’t seeping through the phone. “Well, I know this is really last minute and I know you take your weekends of rest very seriously, but I was invited to my sister’s opening today, and of course I want to support her, but I’m in one of those… ya’know, moods. I was hoping you could come with me so I can show face and also have you as my trusty support to help get me out of conversations I can’t exactly stomach right now.” His words are rushed and straightforward. Laced with ragged breaths and a few uncomfortable fake laughs. You know this feeling all too well. A yielding plea of someone to hold your hand through something so small and mundane to most but overwhelming and suffocating to others.

You pull the phone far away from your face again to take a long-tremored breath. You didn’t mention to him on purpose that Alex and you signed the divorce papers this week. You know he’d worry about you and at the moment you can’t fathom having his soft eyes and voice trained on you. You’re certain he would have done his best not to make a big deal out of it at your wishes, but his character is not lost on you. “What time is it?” you bring the phone back and ask him. “Right now? Uh, it’s almost noon?” he sounds confused. “No Chris, the event. What time is the event? I haven’t showered today, and I need to know what style to dress in.” You sound exasperated but it’s not at him. “OH! So, you’ll come, yeah? It’s at 1pm. It’s casual and I’ve already gotten ready if you want me to come over and help you pick something out? I figured I’d pick you up anyway. Seeing as you’re doing me a favor and all…” “No no, that’s alright. Just picking me up is fine. Is noon too early for a glass of wine? Don’t answer that. I’ll, uh, just get ready right now and I’ll see you in 40?” You lightened your tone and hope he picks up that you’re fine. He is anywhere far from a burden, and you trust he knows that. “Okay perfect, see you soon. And Y/N? Thank you again. I really do appreciate it…” His voice is soft and deep. Softer than at the beginning of the convo, and the sweetness in it creeps down your chest, willing your heart to unfreeze. Even just for a moment. You nod, brush off his niceties, quickly say your goodbyes and hang up, tossing the phone on your bed. Forty minutes is not nearly enough time to tighten all the red string that’s holding together your expressions or emotions, but you’ll just have to make do. He would do the same for you in a heartbeat. What you do have time for is a glass of wine, a bit of cheese and bread, and a shower.

You pull out a freshly ironed pair of black high waisted trousers, a black belt with a gold buckle, a crisp white crop shirt and a black princess vest style top with ties in the front, paired with black boots. The outfit sits splayed out on your bed, and you sigh, rubbing your face with one hand. The fit is as dark and depressed as you. It's not worth rethinking. What is worth it is the glass of wine you pour and bring into the shower with you. Placing it in your designated ‘wine only’ spot on the top rack of your shampoo holder. You hopped into the shower before the water was a decent temperature, so you back yourself against the tile, letting the water rush in front of you with your head leaned back and eyes closed. Can’t let him see your pain today. It’s a fair assumption to think he might already know. Heard from an acquaintance about the week’s events. People never know how to keep their mouths shut especially when talking about things they have nothing to do with. Or worse, everything to do with. The alarm you set earlier on your phone to give you a timing warning goes off. You scramble a still dry hand out the side of your shower curtain and swipe the off button. Shit, 20 minutes. Truly no time to overthink now. The expensive wine in your cup doesn’t deserve this but you down the rest in one gulp and rush through washing yourself, hoping your hair has the decency to dry nicely on your head without having time to style it properly. By the time you’re dressed, you know he’ll be arriving any minute. Shoot him a quick text saying the door is open and start your make up. He can wait, but the bags under your eyes and the paleness of your skin needs to be dealt with. You hear the front door creak open, “Heyyyyy, I’m here!”

“Just a minute, I’ll be right out!” you yell back. One final swipe of a light mauve lipstick to your lips and a glance at yourself in the long mirror on your bathroom door. One could say you look nice, fresh and ready for the day. However, if they took the time to look in your eyes, like really look into your eyes, they would notice otherwise. As you step out into the living room, he is sat in one of your large emerald armchairs scrolling idlily on his phone, one arm leaned against his knee with his head resting in his palm. His eyes bolt up at once upon you entering, and he stands just as fast. “I’ll go change,” you quip out before turning to head back to your room, but before you can fully turn around one of his strong hands gently catches your arm and pulls you back to look at him. “What? Nooo, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter. You look nice, and I don’t think anyone will care or notice.” He has a big, dimpled smile on his face. You blink a few times to stomach the immediate ease it brings you. You wiggle your arm free and step back to look him up and down, gesturing wildly at him and yourself. “Chris, we are basically matching head to toe.”

He's wearing fitted black slacks with a belt, a fresh white tee with a black button up shirt open and black boots. Topped with one of his favorite hats. It couldn’t be any more identical, but his buckle is silver to match the chain bracelet that sits delicately on his wrist. “I promise you its fine. Our plan is to stay incognito as much as possible. Besides, we’re going to be late.” And before you have time to protest again, he pulls your purse off the hook and opens the door, nodding for you to exit. “You look great. It would be a shame to let that outfit go to waste.” His smile dons his teeth this time, and you can’t help but give him a small smile back while slightly rolling your eyes. “Fine, okay. I hope they have good snacks there.” You grab your purse from him and walk through the door, trusting him to turn the locks on the inside before he shuts it.

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The opening went smoothly. A couple rushed glances from him telling you he was at his limit with a certain interaction that you solved deftly with a “Sorry to interrupt, Chris can you show me where the restrooms are?” or “Oh I left my phone in your car, would you mind grabbing it for me? I’m expecting an important phone call.” Giving him reprieve from unwanted questions. He spent a quiet moment with his sister towards the end which left you at a deserted snack table munching on decadent squares of brownies, and crackers perfectly arranged with soft cheese and prosciutto, garnished with a sort of pickled onion. A quiet moment for yourself. You spent your time here closely following his movements and body language. Picking up on the little things people usually wouldn’t notice. His fingers fidgeting with his bracelet. A short shuffle of his shoes, bouncing on one foot to the next. Things you’ve picked up on the years you’ve known him. Little alerts to your mind that he’s in a silent war with himself. 7 years is a long enough time to align yourself with someone’s idiosyncrasies. It especially wasn’t hard for you knowing he shared your same anxieties. You’ve always put each other at ease. In college, pulling the other away from isolating study sessions to take a walk and breathe fresh air. Silently keeping tabs on schedules to leave a favorite sweets or drink on a desk before a daunting exam. It was never implied that it was expected. It was easy. Inevitably when you parted, both off to specialized schools to further your individual career paths it was more than difficult to say goodbye. You weren’t especially far from each other, less than a two hours drive. But eventually the short, happy, safe moments you often shared before were long gone. The hole they left was deeper than you had imagined. You kept in touch during those years apart. Meeting once or twice a month and calling often to check in or distract each other. When you met Alex, however, the meetings slowed to a halt, your attention drawn elsewhere. He was happy for you, understanding your absence and missed calls. You thought you were happy, too.

Your attention is ripped from your thoughts at a soft touch to your lower back, jumping from the contact and almost dropping the last bite of brownie from your hand you turn to see his shocked expression hands up to his sides. “Oh, fucking hell, Chris, you scared me.” Placing your free hand on your chest, you will your heart back into its normal rhythm. His shocked expression turns into an almost gleeful laugh. “I’m so sorry; I thought you heard me call your name.” “I guess I must have been entranced by the flavors of this brownie. Have you tried one yet?” He looks to the quarter piece in your hand and to the table, where the plate that once held the brownies is left barren. “Oh, uh, whoops.” You smile sheepishly and offer the last bite up to his lips. He takes it carefully from your fingers with his teeth, but you don’t miss how his bottom lip drags along one of your fingers for a moment. He closes his eyes as he chews, then they open and crinkle at the corners. “Mm, delicious. Now how about we get the hell out of here and eat something more substantial.” You can tell his eyes are tired and worn down from the social interactions, but the way he looks at you with admiration never changes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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The car ride was comfortably quiet. Both of you relaxing into the gentle hum of the car and nonexistent expectations to be “on” anymore. Shutting your brains off for a moment, taking contented breaths. You agreed that eating at a restaurant would be more than either you could handle now, instead opting to pick up some pizza and go back to your place to unwind before the day’s end. By the time you arrive at your humble apartment, it’s nearly 5pm. You shuffle around in your purse for your keys and swing the door open gesturing for him to enter before you. “Pizza first.” Your lips make a smile out of a thin line. He laughs and dips his head as he walks through the threshold. Closing the door behind you, you hang your purse and kick off your shoes. Turning to see he’s still standing in the entryway, shoes off waiting for your next move. “Go ahead and dig in. I’m gunna go change real quick, this belt is driving me to madness.” You slip past him and make your way to your bedroom. “Do you want to eat at the table or...” “I didn’t skip the restaurant just to sit at an equally uncomfortable chair at home.” You say with a smirk over your shoulder as you enter your bedroom. As soon as your feet hit the cold tile of the bathroom, you’re reminded of your morning long forgotten since you kept your mind busy focusing on Chris’s needs today. Thinking of how you were planning on spending the day quite literally rotting on the couch by yourself - if anyone knew how to keep you from yourself, it would be him.

You fuss with your buckle and pull the belt from your pants in one swoop, coiling it up and setting it on the bathroom counter. Whether or not he knows about the finalization of the divorce papers, you’re not sure. If he does, he’s fantastic at hiding it. Could he have pulled you to this event on purpose? To keep your mind busy when he knows you need it the most. It’s not unlike him to predict what you need before you know it yourself. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you stand still, frozen for a moment, evaluating your indistinct expression. The way you’re sure your shoulders don’t stand as tall as they used to. How your favorite pair of pants digs ever so slightly tighter on your hips. Your eyes glaze over at the silent judgment in your head, and you spot your trusty shower wine glass sitting empty in its space. That certainly needs tending too. Never mind your doom and gloom right now. You quickly undress and throw on a comfortable, plain t-shirt, some black biking shorts and grab your empty glass heading back into the living room. “Ah, there you are.” He beams up at you from his favorite spot on your couch tucked into the left corner, legs up and crisscrossed under his body. The table has two plates, each with 3 slices of pizza barely fitting except one plate, your plate, has a dollop of ranch squeezed onto one side. In front of your plate is a wine glass filled halfway and in front of his sits an unopened beer. “Beat me to it,” you smirk at him and jiggle the empty glass in your hand. He pats the empty cushion next to him – “Least I could do.”

You slide past him and flop down in your seat, setting down your empty cup, grabbing the full glass of wine and taking a long sip. “You did good today. How’s your sister? I only got a quick moment to say hi to her.” He pops the top of his beer off and clinks your glass before taking a swig and sighs, staring up at the blank wall above your TV. Fiddling with the paper label on the bottle. “She’s great. Like usual. I’m really proud of her. Being able to open a second store was never in her plans but she excels at everything.” He sighs again and takes another sip, places his beer on the table and leans back on the couch. That’s all he really wants to say, and you can tell. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about her or that he’s not actually proud, because he is. You’re aware of the pressure he puts on himself. By no means is he doing bad in his career. His life. But you're not the type to assume everything is fine just because things seem to be in order on the surface. You silently place a hand on his knee that’s closest to you and give him a patient smile. His eyes fall to your hand, and he reaches out to grab your fingertips, giving them a quick squeeze. “Eat your pizza before it gets any colder.” His turn for diversion.

You both tuck into the pizza while mindlessly scrolling through a streaming app to find something to watch. Landing on an old classic comedy you’ve both seen a hundred times and could probably recite the lines. The bottle of wine found a spot on your coffee table, nearly empty by now. And you had no intention to stop there. 

It was unlike Chris to drink more than a beer or two. Tonight, after the three beers that were left in your fridge from the last time you had a few people over, he popped a second bottle of wine and poured himself a glass along with topping yours off. To others there would be some concern. To you, nothing but a friend needing a little extra help in the quiet your mind department. However it wasn’t working as well for you this evening. Feet propped up on an ottoman next to the coffee table, your body insisted on sinking heavier and heavier into the cushions. Seeking to be enveloped. Pulled down between cracks where the dust bunnies and, likely, a forgotten hair pin lived. 

You can tell he’s feeling better. Laughing almost a little too loudly at jokes he’s heard before. Lips permanently parted in a delicate contentedness. Hands locked behind his head, leaning back, legs stretched out and spread before him. Relaxed. Comfortable. Seeing him this way makes you feel guilty. As if he should be somewhere else, with someone happier.

Someone who could really help him feel better. Who could hug him tightly without letting their own shadow creep over him. The wine was making your head fuzzy, but where it would usually quiet your emotions, they seem to swirl in your lower belly sticking to anything with purchase. You weren’t upset about the divorce in a common sense. Yes, you had loved Alex, but the stability and togetherness were something you craved the most. It’s not hard to tell yourself now why you latched onto him and the idea so quickly. You were simply afraid of being alone after you and Chris had stopped being so close. Something you’ve never admitted out loud but are aware that your ex-husband surmised after just a few short years of being married.

Sitting here now, next to him, smelling his familiar cologne, hearing his laughter and feeling that easy tranquility that comes with your relationship. It should be enough. So why do you feel this way?

Your eyes sting and your throat tightens as you stare down at your empty glass. Willing the tears back in with an iron grasp on the glass stem in your hand. “Hey hey hey, what’s going on here?” he coos at your side, and before you can turn your head to face away from him, you’re pulled across the cushion to rest your head on his lap. He removes the empty glass from your hand and places it on the table, then lays one hand on your shoulder while the other gently strokes your hair. Something he knows well will help ease you. You sink down into him and squeeze your eyes shut, covering them with the hand that’s not lodged beneath your body. “I figured I’d wait ‘til you brought it up,” he says delicately above you. “Your sister texted me Thursday. Said she was worried about you but wouldn’t tell me why. As I expect you told her not to,” he rakes through the bangs obscuring the view of the hand covering your face and traces a finger over your pointer that’s resting over your eyebrow. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I wish you would have told me.” He sighs lightly.

Your hand frees from your face and balls in front of you placed on his knee - “What is there to tell, Chris? We all knew it was going to happen. I mean, we’ve been living apart for almost 6 months now. All we did was sign the papers and finalize the results of our shitty decisions.” The tears have made their way out, and they seep onto his nice slacks. A physical example of you spreading your disease.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me.” Your fist unclenches and falls palm up on the couch in front of you.

He hums in understanding. “You’re aware that I always worry about you, right?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” You flip your body around onto your back to look up at him.

“How long have you been doing that? Worrying about me? Your career is taking off, no matter how much you want to downplay that, along with Felix joining your company. You’ve moved back closer to your family, which I know pained you to be so far away, and I heard from Changbin last month that Lisa asked to give it another shot. Why do you insist on always keeping tabs on me?”

You shoot up from your place in his lap and turn your body to face him. The tears that were streaming have crawled their way back up as your mind races with confusion and misplaced anger. “You have so much to look forward to, Chris. We’re not stupid college kids anymore. It just doesn’t make sense to me how you continue to give a shit about this sorry sack of shit sitting in front of you.” You sigh and close your eyes rubbing at them with your fingertips. FUCK. You know he doesn’t deserve this, and you’re not even sure why you felt the need to say any of that. In its essence, your friend is just doing what friends do. Being there for each other. For some reason, though, his care always felt different than anyone else’s.

You know why it felt that way for you. But even after so many years, you never let the thought fully develop.

“Are you done?” His hand pulls yours away from your face, and he’s switched his position on the couch to face you. He tilts his head forward and locks eyes with you, his expression a look of ‘now was that really necessary?’ with a small smirk on his lips. “Do you feel like you need a reason for me to care? Did you have a good reason to drop whatever plans you had today to come help me out at my sister’s event?” His eyebrows knit together. You know these are rhetorical questions. You let a breath escape you and lull your head to the side, staring at the empty space between you two on the couch. My reason was ‘it’s you.’ I’d do anything for you. You keep this thought locked tight and away from his ears. “No matter how much I feel like I’m trying to help you I feel like it will never be enough. Or the good kind. The kind that actually helps. I think I’m stunted.” You bring your arm up on the back of the couch and bend it, laying your face in the crook of your elbow. An arm comes out, and his soft hand connects with your back as he rubs small circles between your shoulder blades. It’s been a while since you had prolonged contact with him, and it feels good. You’ve spent a decent amount of time together over the last year but typically just brunches turned into lunches, or him dropping off food to your house for dinner making sure both of you eat well. You still your body and whisper a selfish silent prayer in your head that he doesn’t stop.

“I've never seen any problems with how you care. If I were to look back at the receipts, I'd say 99.9% of all your attempts were successful.” It’s apparent he’s saying this through a smile. You don’t lift your head but mumble into your limb, “And the other .1%?” “Remember that time in our third year at university I was upset my roommate had to move out, and you bought that insane painting from the vintage shop of that lady with a really long neck to put up on his side of the room and keep me company? I still have nightmares about her, I swear." His hand stops its movement on your back while he’s recollecting the painting. Your head pops back up to make eye contact, a mock look of shock on your face. “I thought she was pretty and elegant!” “Her eyes staring off into the distance... or was she looking at you? What was she looking at? Why was her neck so… long...?" he ponders, letting his eyes glaze over while glancing over your shoulder to solidify his point.

The tightness in your chest breaks way to a full belly laugh. Catching him off guard and prompting him to join in the fit. Both of your incessant giggling bouncing off the walls together. “You’re ridiculous you know that?” You say as your hysterics subside, gently slapping his knee. Your bodies had both shifted closer to each other on the cushions during your laughter, and your anxieties have settled again. Safe. Easy. Staring down and fiddling with the hem of your shirt mindlessly, you hum out your comfort. “Bug?” He whispers his silly nickname out for your attention. Still with a half-smile on your face, eyes downcast, picking at a string that should not be meddled with, you respond, “Yeah?” You wait a few moments for a question or statement, but the air stays silent. “Wha-…” Your words are cut off by a clashing of lips. His hand on your cheek guiding you up to face him, his plush lips firm but slightly off mark from aligning directly with yours. Your eyes widen and a hand flies up to catch his wrist. A small but not unwelcome spark flits up your lower back as you start to register what’s occurring. Then the realization fully develops.

Your stomach flips in a somersault. First down to the bottom where it feels alive and floating, prickling the tops of your thighs; then up to your throat where it sticks and tries to strangle you from the inside out. A panic settles there. You pull his hand away from your face and throw yourself up onto your feet as if something just burned you. Confusion and guilt paints his face as his hands both come up to run through his soft, dark brunette hair. One of your hands finds your lips as you turn and pad around to the front of the coffee table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He turns his body to sit straightforward in his spot, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and not ready to make eye contact. You stare at the top of his head. Brain running as fast as the wine and confusion will allow. That couldn’t have been real. That was in your head, right? His posture says otherwise.

“Please Bug, can we just…will you let me say something?” His eyes come up to meet yours finally. Pleading and looking like he could have just been slapped across the face. Or stabbed in the back by somebody he loves. His eyes cut right through your fog, and you snap back into place. Moving shakily, you grab both your empty wine glasses off the table and make your way to the kitchen, nearly speed walking. Opening the dishwasher and placing them both in, then closing it. He doesn’t follow, and you take a few deep breaths in the open space of your kitchen. A few questions strike you particularly hard in this moment of clarity. 

Where did that come from? 

Did you miss something? 

Does this mean something more than a stupid drunk mistake? You’re certain he didn’t drink that much. Sure, a little more than usual, but 4 drinks are not nearly enough for him to be that far removed from himself. Was that pity? And most importantly,

Why did you stop it?

Every point your mind tries to make, every conclusion to your questions only fuels a deep self-deprecation as you toss around the information in your head. No matter the answer your mind revolts. Unaccepting of any critical thinking.

Sleep. You both just need sleep. This is the only rational thing you can accept. You decide quickly and round the corner back into the living room, stopping just short of the hallway to the rest of your home. “You can stay in the guest bedroom. The blanket that’s usually on the bed is folded and in the closet on the shelf. Just uhm…never mind. I’m… I’m sorry.” Your eyes prickle as you see him still in the same spot, only now his head is in his hands. “Please don’t leave me yet,” he asks earnestly. Low, as if coming from a wounded dog. You couldn’t stay right now. None of the words that would come out of your mouth would make any sense. In fact, you’re scared of what you might say. Selfish. You’re being selfish. Whatever led him to do what he did; his reaction to your abrupt shock, he deserves something from you. “Chris, it’s fine, I just…think we need some sleep,” you lie to him again today. You know neither of you will be getting any sleep, just a few steps from each other’s beds in your little apartment. He sighs into his hands and lifts his head from them, looking forward at the TV screen, long since forgotten, its screensaver bright and cheery, bouncing soft blues and pinks off his features.

You twist the front of your shirt in your hands and bite the inside of your cheek. He looks defeated, and you’re worried that you’re the reason. Five minutes ago, he was doing everything he could to make you smile and be nice to yourself. To help you. As you said to yourself earlier, you knew you would do nothing but hurt whoever tried. There is no other choice now; you just need to turn and walk away. “Goodnight.” You say under your breath and make the move towards your bedroom, taking a quick look out of the corner of your eyes at the barren guest room. Filled only with a bed, one nightstand and a standing lamp in the corner. It feels cruel to send him into the cold like that tonight. You hadn’t had any time to plan or decorate it all that much. No physical hobbies you brought from your old house with your ex to don the walls or fill shelves. Just as empty as you felt day after day. Your room had more warmth at least. More than you deserved tonight. The lamp next to your bed is clicked on already, casting a soft orange glow over your bed. The clothes you wore earlier were thrown hastily toward your hamper in the corner of your room and your white cropped t-shirt sits crumpled on the ground in front of it.

You grab it and toss it properly into the bin then pull your comforter back slipping under its fine and delicate fabric. You pull it up to your chin, curling in on yourself on your side and sinking as far as you can manage into the mattress.

Sleep. You tell yourself again. It’s what you both need.

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The minutes to hours clicked by like thick mud descending a slope. By the time the clock next to your bed reads 3:04 AM, you knew you weren’t getting any sleep. Your body at this point buzzing with anxiety, eyes forcing themselves open despite your protests. Trying to force yourself not to think was impossible. You practice the tricks you’ve learned from years of meditation. Lying on your back focusing all your might and energy to release the tension one limb at a time. Starting at your jaw where the anger was, down to your shoulders where sadness hung, through the hot veins in your arms and out your fingertips where the anxiety lies. Nothing would stop the never-ending cycle of guilt. You tried to drown everything out by zeroing in on the sound of the ceiling fan above your head. Instead, your ears searched for any sound of him moving around. You’d hoped that he was able to sleep, unlike you. Wished for him peaceful oblivion from the uncomfortable position you both were in. You hear the hall bathroom door click shut and see the light from under the door illuminating the hardwood flooring of the hallway.

Seems his night is no different from yours. What could he have possibly told you that would have made sense of his actions earlier?

Is it impossible for you to think he might…love you? Even after all these years of seeing what a natural disaster you are? You let the thought cascade down your body like a warm sunset over a mountain. You’ve had this thought throughout your life many times in many different ways. Too bizarre to be true. Chris, in all his wholesome, thoughtful actions. Putting the needs of others above himself. Letting himself get pushed and pulled by people like you into dim light. Giving, giving, giving. 

And you, a taker. Taking people’s soft looks and touches. Drawing out their pity. Unintentionally, truly. You just seem to bring out the nurturing parts of people when they look at your frail state. Despite doing your best not to. Trying to strive, to do well. Make people proud and not show how desperate you are to keep your head above water.

Could this be one of those moments? Did he just want to make you feel better and not continue to watch you suffer in silence? What would be the goal if this was what he was trying to accomplish. One night of heat and passion to keep your mind busy? He’s just not the type. Thinking this of him makes your stomach turn and guilt pang in your chest. The toilet flushes and you hear the sink turn on. The familiar rush of icy water from the tap. The light dims in the hallway and the door clicks open, followed by his padding footsteps to the guest room. There could be a reality in which you took his words at face value. Whatever he did want to tell you. Honoring the trust built between you. Why instead do you insist that you’re underserving of it? His trust. His love. Determined to continue lying to yourself, pretending you didn’t wish it was Chris who held you when you were stressed after work. Who wiped your tears when a loved one passed. It’s possible you could do the same for him.

Your mind focuses back on the sounds of the house. There’s some rustling coming from the guest room. He might have drifted back to sleep.

You have two choices. Spend the rest of your night ignoring all these thoughts and feelings, essentially leaving him on a proverbial ‘read’ until tomorrow morning where you would surely share an awkward goodbye. Or… just talk to him.

There’s a 50/50 chance he is still awake in his room. What’s the harm in trying?

Your adrenaline picks up as you make the decision. Sitting up and ripping your comforter off your body, swinging your legs over the side standing up quickly. If you don’t move your feet now, you’re scared you won’t make it to the guest room. Just go. Getting to the hallway was a feat in itself, and you slow your steps as you reach the corner of the door. It’s sitting halfway open, and the room is softly lit. The lamp in the corner of the room turned down to its lowest setting. Your nerves catch up to you as you plan on either peaking around the corner or calling in to see if he answers. If you call for him and he’s sleeping, then you’ll wake him from well-deserved slumber. If you peek around and he’s awake, he might see you, and you’ll have no choice but to confront the situation. If you peek and he’s asleep, then you may have a chance to save you from yourself, just grab a glass of water and take yourself back to bed. “Just come in already.” You hear him say.

His voice startles you from your thoughts, and a gasp escapes you. He must have heard your erratic footsteps coming to a halt right before the door. Maybe he’s been listening for you too. Shame covers your brow as you poke your head around the corner to see him sitting up in bed, leaning back against a pillow and the headboard. His shirt is off, and the dim light from the lamp curls around his muscles, forming rich curves and indents immediately muddling your thoughts.

You swallow harshly. “Uh, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep, and I heard you get up a little bit ago. I was just going to grab myself some water, do you want some?” An excuse but not technically a lie. God, I'm pathetic.

“Sure.” He nods, his smile is weak and appeasing. Clearly letting you take the lead in this dance.

You take the opportunity gladly, making your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. Using it again as a spot to gather your thoughts. You grab two tall glasses from your cupboards and fill your cups from the fridge filter. Just let him talk. Listen to him, not yourself.

Stilling your shaking hands, you trail back into the hallway and don’t let yourself stop at the door frame this time. However, you don’t dare come around to his side of the bed, seeing him up close right now in his ‘state’ would fizzle out whatever common sense you had left. You don’t make eye contact, but you can feel his eyes follow you around the bed to the opposite side and sit uncomfortably on the edge shoving your hand out to pass him the water. Taking a long sip from your own and visibly trying to settle your nerves. Being nervous around him is not something you’re used to anymore. In college when you first started hanging out, sure, meeting thanks to your mutual friend Felix, you realized early that he might possibly be one of the most beautiful and kind people you had ever encountered. But you had also decided early on you did not deserve him. Despite how quickly he gravitated towards you. And you to him.

He doesn’t seem nervous right now though, and that confuses you more than anything. He takes the cup from you and takes a small sip, sitting it on the nightstand next to him only briefly taking his eyes off you to make sure it lands on the coaster. You can sense he’s waiting for you to start the conversation, ever the patient man. “I’m… I’m sorry about earlier” is all you can manage right now. Regardless of his resolve to clearly let you take the lead here, you’re lost for words and whatever you manage to think, it’s next to impossible to try and voice them. “Why do you keep saying sorry?” His voice is a little hoarse. The question catches you off guard, and you finally look up from the cup in your hands to meet his eyes. “Because… I don’t know. I just am.” Easier to be vague. His hair is curled and ruffled on his head, making him look soft and almost resemblant to the boyish charm he held back in the day. He doesn’t speak again. His face shows he’s not happy with your answer. “I’m sorry for who I am as a person. I’m sorry I always tend to make situations worse in my personal life. I’m sorry I always make the people in my life suffer from my actions.” The words come out quick and despairing. He sighs and hangs his head, shaking it.

"I’d like to think I’ve never given you the impression that you've made me feel this way towards you.” He puts his hands on the bed to shuffle his body straighter which slightly reveals the top of his black Calvin Klien boxers peeking up over the blanket that rests on his legs. You avert your eyes and stare back down at your water. Maybe a cup of chamomile would have been better. “I can’t help right now if I don’t know what you’re thinking.” He tilts his head to try and bring your focus back up to him. “I don’t know what to think right now, Chris.” It’s true. Your head is full to the brim with thoughts but none of them feel worth sharing. “Just give me anything. The first thought that pops up in your head.” It’s apparent he may not know where to start either. “Why?” 

A simple word. It shoots out of you quicker than you imagined it would. You know it’s not an easy question to answer. But it’s the word that prefaces all the questions you’ve made yourself suffer through the entire sleepless night.

His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. He seems at a loss for words just as you. He ponders for a moment before shifting nervously. “Did you not want me too?” “That’s not an answer to my question.” He sighs and his arms come up and behind his head to grab the headboard, leaning his head back and directing his eyes up at the ceiling. You’re not making this easy on him, but you could say the same. You suppose you could make the question clearer, add context. “Why did you want to?” You’re both grown adults. But this conversation seems more difficult than trying to explain to a parent why their favorite vase sits in pieces on the floor. “It felt like it was time.” His arms come back down, and his eyes meet yours, filled to the brim with sincerity. You shake your head. Irritation trying to make its way forward. You pull both legs up on the bed sitting on your knees completely facing him. Hands still gripped tight around the glass of water in your hands.

“It was time for what, Chris? That doesn’t make it any clearer.” The frustration is plain in your voice and directing it at him feels wrong, yet the voice of reason in your head is not paying any attention. He repositions himself to face you dead on, just as you were earlier. “Our entire conversation on the couch was centered around you, in some sort of wild disbelief, that I care deeply for you. Has it not been apparent over the past, I don’t know, seven, almost eight years that caring for you is not a burden to me? That seeing you sad or stressed or angry pains me to my core? And I know I can’t just take that away from you; I can’t tell it to stop or will it away. But could you at least give me the chance to try and protect you from it? From letting you beat yourself up behind closed doors. Or at the very least let me hold your hand when it all gets too much, just as you would for me?” His words rush past you in a haze. You can’t seem to move, but your hands begin to shake again and your chin quivers. It’s typical of him to know exactly what you need to hear. Nonetheless that unyielding, rattling voice in the crawl space of your mind does what it does best and tries to beat down any accepting thoughts.

He moves closer to you, grabs the cup from your hand and reaches back to set it next to his on the nightstand. His strong hands maneuver your body to sit more comfortably on the open side of the bed, and you let him. Guiding you to rest the side of your body, head against the free pillow to his left and the headboard. Pulling the blanket that was once wrapped around his body up over both your legs and gently clasps your hands in his. He takes a few moments to let you adjust to your new position. Tears welling in the corner of your eyes not yet making their escape. He sits cross-legged in front of you. And you finally let your eyes focus on his striking features. The look on his face the very epitome of being free from pretense or judgement. You clear your throat as his thumbs rub small circles over the tops of your hands. “Is there a world in which I could make you believe me?” He asks. His monologue had shell shocked you. You know he cares for you just as you do him. Hearing it said so plainly and to a deeper extent was not at all what you were expecting. Still, caring deeply for someone and being physical are not mutually exclusive. It still doesn’t explain why…

“It’s not that I don’t believe you Chris. I just don’t understand why. And I care about you too. It’s not a secret that I’d drop just about anything to help you if you’d need it, but I know my reasonings. And still what you said doesn’t explain at all why you would– about the…” Your words trail off. Your lips unsure of the confidence of saying it out loud. “The kiss?” His lips press together, and his eyebrows slightly raise, like he knew it would be hard for you to say. Your face heats and your cheeks turn a light shade of rose. Your mind finally registering that your hands are lightly placed in his. His hands grip a little tighter as if on instinct he knew you might pull away. He’s not wrong. The flush that’s running down your neck into your chest is screaming at you to abort physical contact no matter how good it feels. “Look, Bug; I know things have been a lot lately. In hindsight, the timing for that move might not have been perfect. But I don’t know how much longer I can wait for you to come to your senses.”  There’s a smirk on his lips that begs you to fall in line and understand what he’s trying to say. However, you’re too stubborn for that. “What are you trying to say, Chris?”  Your eyes are like saucers. Big and round. He chuckles in feigned exasperation, his eyes pinched shut accentuated with a big, dimpled smile. He shakes it off and looks up at you through his eye lashes. Sudden sincerity clearly in his expression.

“The year following your marriage to Alex was probably one of the hardest years of my life. It felt like I was mourning. And in a sense, I was. I had lost the last viable chance I thought I had in this life to make you finally see me. You were gone. Out of reach forever.” “I didn’t go anywhere. We’ve still been in each other’s lives...” “I know. I know. I knew we’d still be friends just as we always were. I could call you when I needed to hear your voice. Or meet for lunch when not seeing you every day became such a miserable thought in my mind. I don’t think you realize how many times just a simple voicemail from you, snarky and annoyed that I didn’t answer your call, saved me. Made me smile and laugh when I was unsure if I could dig myself out of a hole that I made for myself.”

“Laughing at my annoyed voicemails. Interesting.” You narrow your eyes in pretend irritation, trying to hide a sly smile from your lips. He leans back and huffs out a breath with a smile on his face, shaking your hands together back and forth. “My point is!” He lets go of your hands and cards his hands through his hair, ruffling the front a bit to sit how he’d like it to on his forehead. You let your eyes dance around his flexed muscles more freely this time. His hands fall back into his lap, and he takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his bracelet on his wrist. This time, you reach one hand out and pull his hand away from its busy work and cup his hand between both of yours. You stare down at them folded together. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone in my life that is more deserving of my attention and care…” He says softly and exhales slowly, 

“Or love.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you close your eyes. A familiar sting behind them. You feel his free hand brush past your cheek with his knuckles and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear landing to cup your chin. “Y/N, look at me, please.” You’re afraid to open your eyes because surely the tears will fall. But you let him raise your head, suck in a slow breath and slowly open them. His eyes are trained on yours, earnest and full of adoration. The foundational nature of a kindness one is born into the world with. A simple tear falls from your right eye, and he swipes it with his thumb. “Will you let me show you? Will you let me help fight the thoughts that tell you you’re not?” “Chris, I…” And before you can finish your sentence you’re pulled into his lap. Rounded up into his toned bare chest and cocooned inside his arms. With your seat between his open legs and yours laid across one of his thighs, you curl your arms into your chest with one hand splayed hesitantly on the side of his lower neck and your head tucked beneath his chin. The fantasy of it all sounds like a dream. You let yourself feel it. A world in which his devotion focuses on you. Where you don’t have to imagine yourself without him. One where when you inevitably fall in a pit you’ve created for yourself, and he is there to catch you. He says he wants to show you how you deserve that kind of protection.

But does he deserve what little you have to give? It's plain to see what his intentions are. Even with his arms wrapped tightly around you, the feeling of being frail and frozen inside is still deep within you. Of course, he could make you feel safe and perhaps even truly loved. But at what cost to him?

“What if I can’t be enough for you? If I can’t give you what you deserve?” It comes out of you so small. So weak. Like a tiny branch, not yet ready to hold up the season’s first fresh ripe apple. “Whaddya mean? Was that not you today? My knight in shining black boots, rescuing me from fumbling over my words in countless conversations today at the opening? I think you forget just how strong you can be.” One of his hands that’s resting on your side lightly raps on your ribs eliciting a small yelp and squirm from you.

You pull your head up to look him into the eyes, “If you tickle me right now, I swear to god I will get up and leave this room, Christopher.”

He laughs and tucks your head back under his chin then rocks you both back and forth a few times before settling with one arm still wrapped tightly around you and his other hand on the back of your head.

“You only brought me there to busy me.” You’re back to talking quietly. Body heat is radiating off him. One of your arms is pressed tightly between your side and his defined abs. Your always cold skin, pulling the warmth from his body to put life into yours. “I think it can be described as a win-win.” He pushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp in slow circles. “You know it’s been hard for me lately. Hannah’s success has nothing to do with me but, my five-year plan isn't exactly going as well as I'd hoped it would.” Sighing deeply, he strokes your hair. Combing his fingers through and setting the wavy strands back into place after tussling them from his services.You use a finger to lightly trace a small infinity symbol on the skin of his arm that’s directly in your line of sight - “Finish college, move back home, start your business then watch it grow. It seems like it’s going just about as good as I recall you telling me about.”

His deep breath in and out shifts your body,

“To fall in love again,” he says in a whisper.

Your finger stops moving.

“That was part of it too, but I guess I found it hard to tell you. It’s not the easiest to tell the person you’re in love with that you hope you’ll eventually get over them and find someone else.” His hand that was on your head comes down to lock around his wrist caging you in against him again. The last time you spoke about your ‘five-year plans’ was a little over a year into your marriage to Alex. Chris had just bought his first office space, and you remember him calling you absolutely beaming through the phone about it. You laughed together and gave congratulations. The conversation didn’t seem somber to you then. “I really need you to know something, Chris.” You wrap your small fingers around his arm as far as they can reach, and squeeze lightly.

He picks his chin off from the top of your head and pulls back to try and look you in the eyes, but you stop him and pull him back against you. Unable to let his soft eyes waver your resolve to not cry in this moment.

“I really loved you.” You pause to steady yourself before continuing.

“I was sure that after we parted ways and went to different schools, I’d never find someone who could make me feel so safe. Someone who could help me not feel so isolated. I was scared, Chris. Talking to you on the phone, seeing you when we could spare the time, truly grounded me. But the loneliness, the inaccessibility, the inability to reach out to you whenever I felt like I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet… it wore me down…” A breath stutters out from you, and your throat begins to tighten. You can feel your stupid lip start to quiver despite clenching your teeth as hard as you can for a moment. He loosens his arms ever so slightly when he feels you readjust your weight. “I could have told you.” You continue. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you. You can’t convince me that if I did tell you that you wouldn’t have dropped everything to come to me. You would have put a hold on your dreams to protect me from whatever nightmare I caused for myself. And that’s dumb, Chris. That’s really really dumb and selfish of me.” “Y/N, I could’ve-”

“No, you know it’s true. So instead, I did the only thing I thought would help relieve you from the burden and tried to find someone else. And…and all it ended up doing is hurt you even more. No matter how I try, I just continue to salt your wound or push you away.” The resolve you had finally crumbles, and you can feel the hot rush of tears begin their descent down your cheek. You can sense his panic start to set in as his arms unclasp themselves and hastily find their way to your head, fussing with the hair that’s draped around your face, pushing it away over your shoulders. Both hands find your cheeks, and he holds your head in his hands and forces you to look at him. Your hands scramble up to cover your face, but he’s quick to move them out of the way with his arms. Letting them fall limp in your lap you acquiesce to his desire to meet eye to eye.

“Do you still love me?” His eyebrows are knitted together, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious before. His brown eyes are so deep, the question filling the pool to the brim. Your hands reach up again and grab his wrists. Eyes blinking rapidly to force your tears to stop blurring your vision. “Chris, we-“ “Do you love me, Y/N?” His thumbs brush a few stray tears from the apple of each of your cheeks and he studies your face again. His gaze moving from one eye to the other. You pinch your eyes shut for a moment, scrunching your face tight. Then you let it go lax, let a deep breath out through your nose, and open your eyes to lock with his. “I always will.” All at once, the tension and worry in his face gives way as his eyes soften and his lips part. His hands move slowly, pushing any stray hairs that were fighting in your favor to cover your face back behind your ears. They proceed downwards until his fingers are delicately at the back of your neck and his thumbs rub softly on your jawline. A gentle smile paints his soft lips. “You really made me fight for that, didn’t you?” He says through his smile and a light chuckle.

You huff out an annoyed laugh and begin to roll your eyes, as soon as they shut, you feel his heated lips press to your forehead. They stay there as he breaths out. He repeats the kiss a few more times as your hands let go of his wrists and make their way around his waist. Wrapping your arms tight around him, letting the affection spill from his lips.

⊹ ⋆ ₊❀∿.✧ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮✧∿.❀₊ ⋆ ⊹

Warmth spreads across the back of your legs before you can see the reason behind it. It stirs you in a nice way. Your hand comes up and runs through your hair, brushing stray pieces away from your face. Lungs fill deeply, slowly and steadily as you muster the courage to peek your eyes open. The dark blue curtains covering your window are halfway open. Letting a spill of late morning light fall through and onto the lower half of your body. Rolling onto your back you stretch all your limbs out at once in a starfish, wiggling your fingers and toes. You must have slept almost 10 hours. Eyes finally closing around midnight last night and waking naturally this morning when your body was ready. It’s in no rush despite the eagerness you have for the day.

You grab your phone and check your notifications. A few emails, a couple of social media posts from some of your favorite artists and 5 text messages. The digital clock says 10:03 AM but that doesn’t bother you. Your thumb pulls down the bar and sees the sender names of the texts waiting for you. One reads your sister’s name and the other says Chris.

You start with your sister’s. Three messages came in between 1 AM to a few minutes after 3 AM. 

Why weren’t you going to tell me this show was going to make me cry. DANG IT Y/N I CAN’T BE SOBBING LIKE THIS AT 3AM. 

Oh, thank God. The ending was fine. You are forgiven.

You giggle at your phone and type out a response:

If I would have told you, you wouldn’t have watched it. But you liked it didn’t you!

You hit the back button and click on Chris. Both messages came in around 8:30 AM.

The first message is an image. You click on the photo to make it bigger and smile. It’s a selfie of him sitting on the back porch of his parents’ house, his dog Berry sitting in his lap. You can tell he’s giving her good scratches because her eyes are closed and she’s leaning her little head into his hand. His smile is wide and bright. The dimple on the right side of his face prominent and tender.

You click the bottom left button on the screen and save the image to your phone then you click out and scroll to see the message underneath. Berry says Goooood morning! I do too of course. Can’t wait for later, hehehe ^_^ You scroll back up and look at the picture again for a few moments. Your smile deepens and you bite your lower lip clicking into the reply spot. Good morning to Berry and her loyal ear scratcher <3 Me too, see you at 4! You hit send and roll onto your side placing your phone back on the nightstand. You have quite a few hours to get ready and not too much cleaning to do. A nervousness swirls through your stomach but not in a bad way. You lay for a while, thinking and blinking at the rays of light shimmering through the window. It's been a month since you’ve seen Chris. By your own decision. That fateful night, before you fell asleep in his arms, you told him you needed some time to rearrange your thoughts. He of course accepted this, patience is his middle name. He told you he had already waited years and would wait more if he had to.

You didn’t need years to answer the question. The thought alone is simple enough. “Will you let me?” Can you, will you be able to let him love you? Spending years telling yourself and believing that you’re not deserving of it can’t be rewired overnight. Or even over a few weeks. But the beginning of the process must start with you. Will you love yourself enough to accept his love?

What is the condition one must be in to relinquish control over your emotions and let someone else bring your feelings out of you? What you knew for certain was that you were not yet in that state. Hard boiled and stagnant. Walls placed brick by brick around you with exceptionally frail edges.

Pushing the sheet off, you place your feet on the cold hardwood and stand slowly, stretching your arms up above your head, twisting your back to the left and right to smooth out any soft aches. You recall one of the emails in your phone telling you a package had arrived early this morning, find your way out to the living room, and twist the locks to open the front door.

A tall, thin cardboard box sits up against the wall to the side of your door. Excitedly, you slip your sandals on and step out to retrieve it. It’s not heavy in the slightest, you knew it wouldn’t be, but it still surprises you when you lift it so easily. You make your way back inside and push the door closed with your foot, heading straight to the guest bedroom. Placing the box on the bed you open the drawer of the desk in the corner of the room to grab a pair of scissors and start opening it up. Carefully you cut the bubble wrap and pull the painting out. The watercolors grab your vision at once. Every shade of green imaginable. Dark and rich at the forefront, light and feathery towards the top. A landscape of the treetops, of a deep vast forest with a soft mist of fog dipping in between the layers of Redwoods. A vision of home. You had already measured and prepared for its arrival, so you step up onto the bed and fix the painting onto the hooks. Easing back down onto your knees you back up until you reach the bottom of the bed and look up at your new art. It fits perfectly above the headboard and between the tall bookshelves at each side of the bed.

What is self-reflection? was a thought you had many times these few last weeks. What does it look like to move forward? To see yourself make progress and evolve past your former predispositions. It was clear to you that you didn’t have a clue.

The first week after that night you spent every hour at work and at home racking your brain to figure out your plan. Picking apart each negative thought you’ve had about yourself to see if you could find its source and snuff it out. It went nowhere. You spent hours reading articles and motivational books on self-care. All it did was make you feel silly. Out of touch with guides and steps to take.

You weren’t sure if you could call this a deep depression. You had been there before, and it didn’t quite look like this. You spoke with your family and friends often. You loved your job and took pride in your work. Cleaning your home and making dinner weren’t your favorite things to do, but they never truly were in the first place.

It was more of a wrong turn your brain had taken a long time ago. And continued to make for a long time. Set on a track headed for a cliff you knew was coming but never reached. The anxiety building and building but never falling off the edge.Halfway into the second week, you laid flat on your back on the bed in the guest bedroom. Frustrated with yourself and your inability to see the path before you. See the steps you were sure you needed to take. Fresh tears quietly and slowly making their way down your face and onto the baren bed below you. Your phone buzzed next to your head interrupting your thoughts.

A text message from Chris. A habit of his always seeming to know, even when you’re not around each other or haven’t spoken to each other, that you were silently suffering. Wiping the tears away, you pulled your phone in front of you and opened the message.

I saw this pretty thing today and thought of you. I hope you have space on your walls for a new friend.

Attached was an image of his hand holding a small square frame with a dry-preserved Atlas Moth pinned beneath the glass. The beauty and the irony were not lost on you. It was then that you knew you didn’t have to worry so much about what it looked like to move forward.

If you could let yourself enjoy the feelings he gave to you, it would be enough for now. 

The work you wanted to do on yourself would move along with him there beside you. There was no strategy to this. To love. For oneself or for another. The two things weren’t mutually exclusive. You had to take a step back and look at yourself as he would look at you. As anyone would. At the end of the day, you were just as deserving of love as anyone else was. You could say this to a friend or a family member but had a hard time saying it to yourself. 

Instead, you turned your focus to the guest bedroom you were laying in. Walls untouched. Void of color and warmth. You were never one to call yourself a minimalist. The room itself became a metaphor for your unwillingness to let Chris shine brightly the way he wants to for you.

Now sitting here in the bed scanning the room around you, it felt inviting.

You placed each object in the room with care. Bookshelves filled with some of your favorite authors and even a few rows of comic books and old video game cartridges. Shelves on the walls stacked with antique knickknacks that made you laugh and brought you joy. And now your new piece of art that reminds you of home.

Shifting off the bed, you grab the remnants of the cardboard box and wrap and take it to the kitchen. Ripping the cardboard into smaller pieces and placing all the trash neatly into your recycle bin. Chris had suggested a small Italian restaurant for dinner tonight, but you declined. Saying you two would have plenty of time to go out together, and you’d rather spend this Saturday alone with him. 

The rest of your day went by in a flash. With the only things left to do being a quick clean of the kitchen and mopping the floors, followed by a hot shower and pre-cutting the ingredients for dinner. 

Chris requested something to take the chill from his bones caused by the crisp late winter air. You could never call yourself a chef, but one dish your mother taught you and taught you well was Caldo Verde. A comforting Portuguese sausage, kale and potato soup. Homey and rich, the perfect soup to ground you both and warm your bellies. 

Despite not wanting to leave the house, it didn’t mean you couldn’t dress up a little. You gazed at yourself in the long mirror in your bathroom checking your outfit over again. A beige oversized cable knit sweater, plain black mini skirt with a slit up the side of your right thigh paired with matching beige cable knit leg warmers and fluffy closed back slippers. Cute, but not too much. 

Picking up your phone from the counter your stomach swirled once you read the time. 15 minutes to four. You couldn’t help bouncing on your toes a little bit before catching yourself and planting your hands on the counter to reel yourself back in. All you had left to do was be patient for a few more minutes.

‎‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

Standing in your kitchen you swirled a tall, elegant wine decanter around in front of you. Appreciating the smell and the sound the wine made in its glass container when you hear a few quick knocks on your front door. You close your eyes and press your lips together while sucking in a breath, nerves coursing through your veins. It’s just Chris, stop being so nervous. Get it together girl. 

Quickly you place the decanter back on the kitchen countertop and step your way to the front door. You left it unlocked assuming he would just walk in as he usually has done before so you turn the handle and pause a second, readjusting your skirt one last time before opening it. 

And there he was, standing in the doorway, dimples on full display, one hand behind his back and the other holding a small square green pot with succulents in it.

“Anacampseros Telephiastrum Variegata.” He says in best fancy voice. 

You bring an arm across your stomach and put your elbow on your hand, resting your cheek on your closed fist. Looking at him with a smile and furrowed brows. 

“Otherwise known as ‘Sunrise’. I know you think flowers are cheesy, but I wanted to bring you something. I’ve been practicing saying the Latin name correctly all day.” He chuckles and winks at you. 

You reach out to take the plant from him and grab his now free hand to pull him inside.

“It’s beautiful, Chris. I’ve been meaning to add more color to my selection by the window.” You close the door and hear him set something down behind you and right before you turn around, you feel his arms come around your waist and embrace you from the back. One arm wrapped around your stomach, hand resting on your hip, and the other resting across one of your arms, hand resting on your bicep. 

“Mmmm, you smell so nice. A new perfume?” He says into your neck, taking a deep breath in. 

Your cheeks immediately flush, and you giggle awkwardly at the sudden contact.

“No, not new. I just never have a reason to wear it.” 

“Well, it suits you perfectly.” He rubs his face back and forth on your neck a few times, nose brushing the skin just below your ear then lets go, backing up a pace and picking up whatever was on the floor.

You turn around and see him holding a white gift bag. It’s now that you can appreciate how he looks. He’s wearing a silk black long sleeve shirt with quite a few buttons undone at the top, revealing a wide V of his prominent pectoral muscles, sleeves rolled a few times up and slightly tucked in at the front. Black, freshly pressed slacks that fit him perfectly and of course, shining black, dress shoes. A simple silver chain sits around his neck along with his favorite silver chain bracelet around his wrist. 

Fuck, he looked good.

You take a deep breath and blink a few times.

“Chris, you didn’t have to bring me anything. I feel so silly I didn’t get anything for you!” 

“Oh shush. You’re making dinner for me, aren’t you? That’s enough in itself. Promise. Plus, this is just your new friend.” He hands the bag out to you, and you grab the handles with your free hand and try to peek into the top. 

“I love him. Can’t wait to put him up with all the others. I don’t think I have a moth yet.” You say as you pace your way into the living room and set the bag and plant down on the coffee table. Chris swivels around on his heels and watches you. Arms in front of him, one hand clasped on top of the other and his head tilted to the side.

“You look beautiful.” He says just above a whisper. 

The blush that you were willing away fights its way back to the surface of your cheek bones. You shuffle on your feet and look down, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, too embarrassed to raise your head and make eye contact.

“I love the shirt.” The delicate laugh you let out is absolutely telling of your nerves, and you are positive he can sense it. 

He laughs under his breath and takes the short few steps towards you. 

“It’s really soft, wanna feel it?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You scoff and turn your head to the side as he reaches out pulling you into another hug. Arms encircling you. This time with the side of your face pressed right up against his shoulder. Your arms lay slack for a minute before hesitantly coming up around his waist and locking behind his back.

You take a deep breath and feel that swift sense of relief and comfort wash over your body. All the spikey nerves in your arms and legs fizzling out to make way for a flowing sensation of calm. He hums above your head and runs a hand up and down your back. 

“So, is dinner coming out alright, or do I need to prepare to order some food in?” He asks in a teasing voice.  

You pull back and swat one of his arms. 

“It’s perfectly fine, thank you very much. Speaking of which, go sit your ass down at the table before I accidentally on purpose burn your pieces of bread.” You point a finger at him, and he raises his arms up, his eyes wide and closed-mouthed smirk on his lips. 

Dinner was in fact fine. The soup was still the perfect temperature when you served it despite making it a little earlier than you should have. Chris devoured his bowl and asked for seconds, which you happily obliged. Conversation was easy and light, him asking you about your work week and you asking about how his parents are doing and of course Berry.

He showed you several more pictures of her on his phone before demanding he be the one to clean the table and do the dishes. You sat on a barstool on the onlook of your kitchen, slowly sipping from your wine glass and watching him bounce and dance around the kitchen, acting way too happy for someone who’s cleaning. 

When he was done, you made him go sit on the couch as you prepped snacks for the rest of the night. And along with the snacks, you made sure yesterday to stop by the bakery near your work and pick up two slices of his favorite chocolate cake. 

You glanced at him a few times through the opening in the kitchen and saw he sat on the edge of the couch, leg bouncing, elbows on his knees, worrying his lip and wringing his hands. It made you feel a little better that you weren’t the only one nervous about the night, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around what he could possibly be thinking that would make him on edge like that.

Padding into the living room you placed a platter of assorted fancy cheeses and meats with some pickled vegetables and crackers. He smiled up at you so affectionately as you smirked and quirked an eyebrow then turned back around to grab cake and wine. 

Finally bringing the rest out on another tray you sat it down and picked up the two plates of cake, handing one to him and sitting down next to him holding out two forks between you. He took one and smiled again at you although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You kept eye contact a little longer before gesturing at the cake in front of him. 

“You still like chocolate cake, right?” You asked while forking a small piece off the tip of your slice and taking the bite into your mouth.

He huffed out a laugh and followed suit. Taking a rather small bite for his standards and dancing the flavors around on his tongue before swallowing and looking back up at you. 

“It’s okay if you’re full. We can save it for later, you know.” You place your fork down on your plate and sit it on your lap. 

You watch as he slowly turns something over in his mind and sits his fork and plate back down on the tray, then reaches over to yours and takes it out of your hands, placing it next to his. His slow movements and hesitancy send a shiver of worry up your spine, and you can’t stop yourself from the comical gulp you make.

He turns his body towards you and reaches out to take your hands in his. His hands are so warm against your icy fingers, and you stare down at them for a second before looking up into his eyes. And there they are. Soft and round. You can’t make out what they portray. Somehow hiding their intel from you. 

The lights in the room seem to fuzz around you. You feel scared. Like he has a secret he’s been holding onto, and you’re the only one in the world who doesn’t know. Your heartbeat picks up as he pinches his eyes shut for a moment and runs his tongue along his bottom lip. 

“Chris, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” You tilt your head and question. A familiar sting behind your eyes and in your throat. 

“Oh god, no. No no no.” He shakes his head and lets out another nervous laugh. 

“Then why do I feel like you’re about to tell me the worst news of my life?” You gulp again and pull your bottom lip into your mouth. 

“Man, I’m really not good at this am I?” He chuckles again and turns your hands over in his so his are on top of yours like he’s grounding himself.

“Y/N, I was so worried these past few weeks. I mean, the amount of pacing I did in my room, I could have run a marathon instead.” He laughs again and runs a hand through his hair before bringing it back down to yours and grips a bit tighter. 

“I was worried you were going to shut me out. You responded to my texts, which gave me hope that wasn’t the case, but I still wasn’t sure if it was you being, well… just your regular self.” 

Your stomach knots. Another chip you had unknowingly taken out of his heart.

“I told you I’d wait for you, and of course I will. I don’t think I’d ever not wait for you. But I… I realized within that time what I didn’t notice before… the pressure I was putting on you. Asking you to take this leap of faith that I could be everything you needed. That you could feel safe with me, and I’d protect you. I can’t just…decide that for you. No matter how much I want to be that for you, it’s not my place to tell you I am what you need…” 

“Chris.” You cut him off gently. His eyes had been staring down at your hands clasped together. You could see the worry lines on his forehead from this angle. And the tears of doubt and worry in your eyes that were trying to force their way to the surface cooled their heat. 

You see him scrunch up his nose then pull his face back up to look at you. 

“I want to show you something.” Standing, you pull him up with you. You turn and keep one of his hands in yours as you walk down the hallway before stopping at the closed guest bedroom door. Turning, you face him with your hand on the doorknob. He looks at the door and then back to you confused.

Opening the door, you click on the light and drag him in along with you. You stop right at the foot of the bed, still holding his hand and sigh contentedly. 

You watch him as his eyes scan the room. The shelfs and books. The soft lavender duvet on the bed with a few decorative pillows. And eventually land on the painting on the wall. A light grin appears on him, but his eyes and brows still etch themselves confused. 

“It looks really nice. But I still don’t understand why...” 

“I’m sorry I made you wait for me again. I really am. I don’t want to continue making you feel that. But, this time it was necessary. I don’t have any concern of your, for a lack of a better word, devotion. It’s never been you who I worry about. It’s myself. You’ve never put any pressure on me, in any sense of the word, since I’ve known you, Chris. You make me feel safe. You always have.” 

You turn and sit on the edge of the bed and bring him with you. 

“My concern wasn’t that you couldn’t provide those things for me. I was afraid that I wouldn’t let you. I mean, for fuck’s sake you know how stubborn I can be.” You look at him with your lips pressed in a thin line and big eyes. 

He laughs, eyes closed and rubs the back of his neck. 

“You said it, not me.” He says playfully.

“What I’m trying to say is: I learned something important during these last few weeks… I need to stop worrying and just live. I need to let myself enjoy the things I love and accept the things I cannot change. Especially about myself. The only way I can stop myself from pushing you away is to remind myself that I am worth it. And I know, I know, you’ll tell me a thousand times over I am, but how can I take your words and believe them if I don’t think them myself?” 

You pause and glance over your shoulder at the painting on the wall. Serene, empty, yet full. The quietness of a deep forest. Just living. His eyes don’t follow you to the painting but stay trained on your profile.

“I can’t promise you in the slightest that I have accepted this overnight or that I’m immediately a changed woman, because that’s just not how change works, I think. But… I can promise you that I will try for you. Forever. Until I get it right.” 

You sigh deeply and bring your face and eyes back to meet his. His eyes are creased, accompanying a smile one could worship. And you intend to do so.

His free hand comes up and cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. 

“I love you.” He says softly. 

“I will always love you.” You say, brimming with sincerity as you wrap your free hand around his wrist that’s holding your face. 

His eyes dance back and forth between yours, his smile delicate, as if asking for permission. Without hesitation you lean into him, placing your lips against his. This time you feel just how plump and perfect they are. His nose pressed softly against your cheek. He presses a bit harder and pulls away to reconnect at a better angle. 

You let his hand go and reach out to place your hand on his bare chest right in the middle of the V from his shirt. His free hand comes up to mirror his other hand on your cheek and pulls you closer to him. You feel as though the lights in the room really have gone dark this time. Encasing you and him in a pocket of time.

The heat between you two rises in an instant. He uses his grip on your face to his advantage, tilting your head side to side to press his lips onto yours repeatedly until you can feel yourself go dizzy in the head. Instinctively both your hands grasp at the front of his shirt, pulling him even still closer to you and run your tongue along his bottom lip. You can feel the shutter of his body  as it takes control over him, and he pushes you back onto the bed. You gasp quietly as your lips open for access.

His tongue enters your mouth slowly, tentatively as he rolls it around to find yours. The taste of him sweet like the bite of chocolate cake he savored earlier. Your stomach rolls up into your chest, a million soft wings of butterflies, moths, birds, dancing inside you. His right-hand slips down from your face, down your side to the hem of your big sweater and creeps up below it, brushing along the skin of your hip, sending goosebumps up your skin. 

You gasp again away from the kiss at the sensation. He pulls his hand away and opens his eyes to look at you. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry we don’t have to do this right now; I just got so carried away and I, god you feel so good against my lips.” He says rushed, out of breath. His elbow and forearm lay flat next to the side of your head, and he rests his other hand on the bed next to the hip he was once touching.

You take a second to catch your breath and smile, the most genuine smile you’ve ever had. Bringing your arms up, you wrap them around his neck and pull him down flush against you.

“I don’t think there is anything I’ve ever wanted more in this world, Chris. Now please, I love this shirt but take it off before I rip it off.” 

His eyes go wide, but he quickly recovers and smirks, adjusting his body to get the right angle and pulls your body up the bed so your legs are no longer dangling off the side. Then he gets on the bed and slots his knees between your thighs. Still upright on his knees, and smirk still adorning his face, he slowly unbuttons the last few buttons left on his shirt. 

You can’t help the giggle that comes out of you as your hands come up to cover your bright, heated cheeks as you watch him peel the silky tight shirt off his shoulders, behind his back and down his arms till he swings it above his head, balls it in his hands and sends it flying across the room to the floor. You cover your face as you laugh again at his ridiculousness. 

The bed thumps as his hands come down on either side of your head. You pull your hands down and peek over them. He slowly comes closer, down on his elbows, pressing his body against yours. Hips now connected to yours, slotted between your thighs. Pulling your arms out completely from between your bodies you wrap them back around his neck. Brushing at the hair on the nape of his neck with your fingertips.

The intensity in the air comes back quickly at your new position. He shifts his elbows down a little so he can brush the hair from your forehead and eyes.

“You’re so beautiful. The universe really did its thing when it made you.” He says simply as he kisses the top of your forehead, your nose, your beauty mark, and then connects your lips again. 

This time it’s your body that takes control. Your arms wrapping tighter around his neck bringing his full body weight on top of you. Feeling as if he could take your last breath now from your lips and you’d die happy. 

His tongue asks for entrance immediately, and you let him. Your knees come up and your feet plant on the bed, shifting your mini skirt up your legs, hips involuntarily pushing up against him to feel him beneath his tight slacks. A soft groan in his throat tells you he liked that, so you do it again. He moves his hips along with yours for a better angle, and this time you can feel his hardness pressed to your heat. 

His right hand comes down to resume the work he started earlier and quickly slips beneath your sweater. Running up your side all the way up, forcing your sweater to bunch and ghosting over your breast, all the way up through the hole in the top of the sweater, hand softly grabbing your neck and pushing your face to the side. 

He kisses down your jaw, until he reaches the soft skin of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat as he trails kisses down your pulse point until he stops and nibbles delicately right above your collarbone.

Your arms unlock from his neck and smooth over his strong shoulders. Feeling every muscle as he continues to suck and bite on your neck. A moan escapes you at a particularly hard bite, and he hisses through his teeth while tightening his fingers around your throat. A high-pitched whine from you pulls his attention back as he lets go and leans off you. 

You gasp at the sudden lack of pressure only to look up and see a fire in his eyes staring down at you. Chest heaving, his eyes are lidded, and tongue comes out to brush his bottom lip. The silhouette of his body alone could send you into a coma.

“Take your sweater off for me.” His voice is deep. Your breath still catching up to you and your mind floaty, it takes you a second to realize what he said.

His tone was not lost on you though. Something you’ll have to tuck away for later and unpack with him. 

Pulling your upper body off the bed to sit upright, you quickly acquiesce to his request and yank your sweater up over your head and throw it to the floor while maintaining eye contact as best as you can. However, your hands have a mind of their own.

Your palms come up and lay flat against his lower abdomen, running up the rivulets of his abs followed by your lips, pressing soft kisses one by one around his belly button as your hands continue up and over his chest and down his sides. Your eyes flit closed as you feel his hands run through your hair then find their way against your scalp and tighten against the roots pulling your face slightly away from him. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you from this angle.” He says as he brushes his free knuckles against the side of your face and jaw, your eyes opening slowly to see his gentle eyes scanning your face. A rush of heat dances in your belly, and you are overcome with the sudden urge to please him. To make him feel good, the way he makes you feel good by just existing in your life. 

Your hands find the button of his slacks quickly, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. His hand tightens in your hair faintly, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your throat. 

“Pants,” is all you can muster. Your hands grab the waistband and try to pull but the snugness of the fit fights against you. Before you can summon the courage to clarify yourself, his hand tightens aggressively as he maneuvers your head to face back up at him.

“Come again?” His face is stoic, except for a brow that’s raised. His composure is so different than he’s ever been with you before. His attitude was always kind, lamb-like towards you. Soft words spoken to a soft shell of a person. But the tone in his words, the severity of this change in him, like he knows your body is craving someone to be rough with you. 

“These pants need to come off.” You tug at the waistband again, but his face remains focused on you. Expression changeless. His eyes bore into you while your mind finally reaches for what he wants from you. 

“Take your pants off… please?” You don’t miss the desperation in your voice. It’s not a new tone for you but the words felt fresh coming from your lips.

“Anything for you baby.” As he releases your hair and pushes your body back slowly until you’re resting on your elbows. 

He backs off the edge of the bed, and you watch as he steps out of his tight black slacks. The dips in his pelvic area creating the perfect tunnel for your eyes to follow down to his boxers. You can tell his eyes are watching yours, but you continue to stare down, mesmerized by every curve his body makes. 

He waits for you to meet his eyes before he makes the next move to pull down his boxers. Your lips part as you see in your peripheral, his cock springing free. You continue to stare at each other for a moment, your heart racing, until his eyes slowly trail down to your legs sitting open in front of him.

A rush of nerves flows down your body at your vulnerable position, and instinctively you move to close your legs, but he quickly reaches out and catches your knees before they can shut. 

“No being shy now. I need to see you.” He says as his hands smooth down your upper thighs to the hem of your skirt. He touches the fabric softly before pushing it further up to expose you more. His hands come up the outside of your thighs before hooking under your knees and pushing them up against your stomach. 

There you are, laid out for him in just your lacy black bra and matching panties with your skirt pushed up and his hands on your body. Your arms feel weak, and your elbows almost give out when you have a moment to really study his face looking down at you. He almost looks pained. His jaw is set tight, and his brows are bunched together. Your stomach swirls, and you feel the patch of wetness on your panties grow.

“Fuck. I can’t believe I’ve had to wait this long to see you like this.” He says as he brings his knees back onto the bed to get closer to you. Between the small gap of your knees your eyes can finally see his cock. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in its length and size, filled out completely from just looking down at your body.

“Chris, please, I wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” You say, breathless.

He laughs and pokes his tongue into his cheek before pushing your legs closer to your chest forcing you off your elbows and onto your back. 

“No matter how much I loved hearing that from your lips, you’re gonna have to stop saying stuff like that, babygirl, or you’re going to drive me insane. I could come right now from the sight of you alone.” His fingers on your thighs dig into you a little deeper.

Your hands grip the fabric of the bed and whatever little patience or control you thought you might have had slips away. 

“Then kiss me. Shut me up.” You say with frustration.

A small, mischievous smile twists his lips, 

“I plan on it.” He says as his body dips to flatten on the bed. Before you can register what is happening, his plush lips press softly on the thin cotton covering you. A moan escapes you as you feel the heat flood your body. 

“This isn’t going to keep me quiet.” You say under your breath.

His lips come off you, and his hands find their way down your thighs till they both rest next to your center. You feel one of his fingers gently trace their way from the top, down to the bottom of the wetness on the cotton and back up again. The sensation sending a soft shudder down your spine.

“I don’t want it to.” He says as he hooks his finger into the fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to the cold air. A deep breath is sucked into your chest as you feel the first contact of his tongue pressed flat against you. The warmth invades your senses. He keeps it there a moment before starting to lick at you slowly, then increasing in speed and intensity, finding every inch of skin with his tongue. 

This feeling alone has you panting quickly, your fingers digging into the soft bedspread below you. His free hand palms at the flesh on your thigh, massaging it deeply with his thumb until it reaches the edge of you, spreading you out for better access. You yelp as his tongue enters you, and the muscle dances around creating a buzz beneath your stomach.

“Mmmm, you taste fucking fantastic.” He says before attaching his plump lips to your clit, sucking gently.

“Chris.. ohmygod...” Is all you can get out before you feel one of his fingers find your entrance and tease you with it. The combined feeling has you pinching your eyes shut and a whine leaving your throat. Before you can manage to wrap your head around the pleasure coursing through your body you feel two of his fingers thrust themselves inside of you, each finger alternating in a curling motion.

Your head is spinning as you become a mess of heavy breathing and loud moans falling from your lips. His name coming in between harsh inhales. Your legs tremble as his sucking increases in intensity, coiling a knot inside of you so tight that when it snaps, you’re afraid recovering from it will be impossible. 

“I, Chris, I’m..” You mumble incoherently as your legs give out and fall from their hiked-up position to rest over his shoulders effectively closing him in between your thighs. 

“Come for me, baby, come on my fingers. Let me hear you.” He says before reattaching his lips on you and furthering his power and concentration on your pleasure. 

His tongue swirls around your clit, sending you fast over the edge. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you hold it in while the muscles in your body let go and dance under his touch. The feeling courses through you so strongly, when the peak finally subsides your legs instinctively close against his head suffocating him in your center. You hear him moan deeply and his fingers leave you so both of his hands can come around to your hips, gripping you and pushing your body harder against his face.

His mouth on overdrive, he licks, sucks and kisses you into oversensitivity. Your head buzzes at the feeling as your hands find his on your hips, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and bucking your hips further into him. 

“Chris, please, oh fuck,” you muster between your whines. 

His grip tightens on you, and you hear another moan from him, this time louder and deeper sending vibrations through your skin and deep into the bottom of your stomach. You’re positive you’ve never come twice in such quick succession, but your body reacts on its own, sending you straight off the edge from his attention.

Your body shakes, and your hands let go of him to find their way into your hair. You squeeze at the roots and ground yourself into the sweeping sensation all over your body. His hands release your hips and smooth over your stomach and waist feeling your muscles tighten and contract beneath them.

He slows his exertion, seemingly satisfied with your exhaustion and pulls his head away slightly guiding you to drop your tight hold with your thighs. They part and fall to the sides leaving his face unobstructed from your view, if only you could find the strength to lift your head.

Before you can fully catch your breath, you feel him untangle himself from your lower half, grab your panties and skirt, pulling them down and off your legs, and crawl up the bed and over your body until you’re face to face. His eyes are lidded and heavy and the bottom half of his face glistens as his tongue comes out to lick his lips. 

“I hope you liked that as much as I did.” He says with a slightly cocky smile on his lips. 

“For fuck’s sake, Chris.” You huff out jokingly as his body flattens against yours between your legs. His cock hard and warm, pressed flat against your wetness. Your tiredness aside, the sensation sparks through your body, making your breath shudder.

He laughs and connects your lips together. You didn’t even realize just how much you missed the feeling of his soft lips pressed against yours, however busy they were just a few seconds ago. Your stomach stirs again feeling his body weight against yours.

“You’re so tight, baby. We might have to go a little bit slow even after me doing my best to help you relax.” He says between kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck and legs come up to hook themselves around his waist, moving your hips until the tip of his cock is closer to your entrance. 

“I can handle it. I know I can.” You say against his lips.

His eyes close and his brows furrow as you slightly move your hips again in a circular motion. Dragging him along your wetness hoping to edge his patience into taking action. You stick your tongue out and lick his lower lip. His eyes snap back open and in one quick motion you are flipped around until you are laying over him.

“Come on baby, sit yourself down on me. Take your time. I wanna see your face as you work yourself open on me.” He reaches down and cups your ass to get a handful and squeezes. 

Your brain feels foggy, and it can’t believe it’s hearing Chris say these things to you. Using his arms as leverage you push yourself up into a seated position on your knees with him nestled perfectly beneath you. Your hands come up to your bra and go to unhook it, but his hands stop you.

“Leave it on.” His voice is deep again in a way that vibrates your chest. His hands push yours aside and caresses both of your breasts over the lacy fabric, using his thumbs to rub back and forth over your nipples. The fabric is thin, and the contact is enough to make them harden beneath it. You watch his face as he continues his work, feeling your nipples through the fabric, pinching them a few times making you moan and then pulling the fabric down to expose them. 

He ghosts his fingertips over them sending a shiver down your spine. One of his hands comes up to your mouth, softly pressing his fingertips onto your lips until you part them and take them in, gently sucking and licking them. His own lips part as you wet his fingers, and his hips rut up once against you as if working on their own accord. 

A soft “fuck” leaves his lips as he takes his fingers away and rubs them against one of your nipples. Circling it and pinching it, creating sweet shocks of pleasure. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling until you feel a sharp smack on your ass. You can’t help the excited yelp that leaves you as your eyes snap back open.

“Let me feel you, babygirl,” he says, eyes lidded, looking like he’s right on the edge of his self-control. As if he wants to snap and take over but is fighting himself to let you take the lead. 

A new swirl in your stomach forms and you plant your hands on his chest. You move your hips up and down on him slightly, feeling his length beneath you before lifting yourself off him. One of his hands comes down to grip your waist, and the other to the base of his cock to hold it up for you to do with as you please. 

You waste little time centering and slowly sinking an inch or two down. The hand holding himself quickly pulls away before attaching itself to the other side of your waist. His eyebrows bunch as he fixes his gaze down to where you two meet. You stay there for a few beats, relishing in the stretch and heat of him. It floods all your senses, sending warmth from below your belly all the way up to the tips of your ears.

Not even a moment passes before your body sends desperate shivers down your legs to give in and sink down. You can sense he’s being extremely patient with your pace, his fingers twitching slightly on your skin, begging you to move. You swirl your hips in a circle as you lower yourself fully onto him, unable to resist the urge to let your jaw go slack and your head fall back.

You feel immediately insane. Every inch of your body is screaming to keep yourself filled by him forever. Your hands grip his pecs as you start to bounce on him. You see his expression change rapidly from one of frustration and restraint to pure, uncontained lust. His hands seek your hips and squeeze harshly on the flesh prompting you to pick up your pace. It’s not long before you’re panting and moaning softly above him. Almost unable to keep your eyes open at the pleasure coursing through your body.

Desperate to feel him even deeper than you could possibly imagine you pick your hands off him and sit up arching your back and rolling your hips forward. His hands are quick to react to your new position as they start to roam over your stomach, up your sides and back down to squeeze at your thighs working hard over him. 

Your hands come back behind you and land on his upper thighs to help keep you upright as you continue to bounce on him. However, you know it won’t last long, the power you want cannot be maintained by the strength that you have. 

Moving your face back down to face him you’re stunned by how beautiful he looks beneath you. His skin is glistening above his collarbones and gently across the apples of his cheeks. His mouth is open and his eyes that were once dancing across your body come up to meet yours. 

“Chris, I…” You start before moaning loudly as his hands grab your ass and squeeze.

“Kiss me, please,” leaves your lips as you feel your legs shake.

He groans softly and quickly fixes himself into an upright position and latches his lips onto yours, wrapping his arms around your body. His new position creates a new angle, and you clench around him pressing your body up against his and wrapping your arms around his neck. As soon as he feels you, his body reacts pistoning up into you as best as he can at a bed shaking pace.

His kisses renew your strength as your body starts to move with his, pushing him further into you and hitting the perfect spot over and over again.

"How does it feel, baby?" His lips detach for yours and find themselves at your neck sucking harshly at the skin.

“So.. good” is all you can mumble between breaths.

“Tell me again.” He says firmly, biting down on the space just above your collarbone then quickly licking over the sensitive skin. 

"You feel so good, Chris. I need you. Please." Your words are accentuated by you clenching around him. His hips stutter, and he quickly flips both of you over until you are lying on your back again under him. His hands smooth up your body as he sinks all the way down into you and stops at the hilt.

"You’re so perfect. You feel so perfect. I need you to come for me again, you're going to do that for me, right?" He fixes the position of his body until your legs are pushed up against your chest again, and his body is laying on top of yours. He puts one hand between you to massage your clit with his thumb as the other comes up to caress your face, his elbow perched on the bed beside your head. 

His passion is pouring out through his hips as soon as he starts to move again. You need more though; you need his perfect lips against yours again to seal all the emotion and pleasure. You reach an arm out and wrap it around his neck pulling his face into yours and without missing a beat he licks into your mouth and pulls on your bottom lip with his teeth sending you fast off the edge of your next high.

Your body shakes and pushes itself up against him, willing him to let go with you, to feel him inside of you. 

“Give me what I want, Chris. Please baby.” you whisper in his ear.

Your words spur him on as both of his hands find their way to your face and he kisses you through his release. Sloppy and heated kisses mixed with his stuttering hips colliding with you slowly over and over again until he is satisfied with his depth and pleasure.

He pulls away from your face slowly, leaving soft pecks on your lips until he can look you in the eyes. A tired smile is gentle across your face. Both of your heavy breathing mix in the air together. He takes his time moving his body off yours and onto the bed next to you, pulling you onto your side with one of your arms and legs draped across his front.

His hand runs up and down your arm as you both settle your breathing and bask in the heated air. There’s a serene sort of stillness that has settled around you that only comes from clearing your soul out. 

You hear him hum in contentment above you. His hand on your back rubs up and down your spine. Your breath is soft again, blowing gently across his chest as you lift your head up and place a kiss where your cheek was then crane your neck to look up at his face. His eyes are closed and the glow on his face is ethereal. 

“We still have cake.” You whisper to him with a soft smile on your lips.

His eyes jump open, “Oh fuck, that sounds so good right now.” He’s never sounded so serious about a piece of cake before.

You start to laugh as his body kicks into action, jumping off the bed and swooping you up into his arms bridal style carrying you back into the living room. 

“Chris, our clothes!” You bark out through your laughter as your arms wrap around his neck.

He winks and kisses the tip of your nose, “Nahhh, we don’t need 'em yet.”

Thank you to @thehandmaidenofcreativity for helping me edit this mess! Love you bb <3

[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 3

Part 1 here Part 2 here

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing, mentions of injured child, drinking, mentions of character death (nobody is dead though they just mention it), throwing up, Az being an ass and MC being a badass mama, kidnapping, mentions of physical force against characters.

Word count: 18.3k

“Uncle Cassy? Rhysie?” she tried again, her voice louder this time but shaky.

A gust of wind rushed past her, and she stumbled, dropping her stuffed toy in the snow. Kaia gasped, quickly bending down to retrieve it. When she straightened, her eyes caught movement—a flicker of brown fur darting between the trees.

“Bun-bun!” she exclaimed, her fear momentarily forgotten. Her small legs carried her forward as fast as they could, her wings flaring with determination.

She followed the bunny deeper into the woods, unaware of the growing distance between herself and safety. The snow was deeper here, and she struggled to push through it, her breaths coming in soft puffs.

Finally, she came to a small clearing. The bunny had stopped in the middle, its nose twitching as it nibbled on something hidden in the snow. Kaia’s face lit up with delight, and she dropped to her knees, crawling closer.

“Hi, bun-bun,” she whispered, her voice soft with awe. “Kaia not scare you.”

The bunny twitched its ears, watching her cautiously but not running this time. Kaia reached out a mittened hand, her tiny fingers trembling with excitement.

But before she could touch it, another strong gust of wind blew through the clearing, sending a flurry of snow into the air. The bunny bolted, disappearing into the trees.

Kaia froze, her outstretched hand hovering in the air. She blinked at the spot where the bunny had been, her heart sinking as she realized it was gone.

“Bun-bun…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The clearing felt empty now, and the cold pressed in on her small frame. Kaia stood up, hugging her toy close and looking around. Everything looked the same—the same tall trees, the same snow-covered ground. She spun in a slow circle, panic beginning to bubble in her chest.

“Dada?” she called, louder this time. “Rhysie?!”

Her voice echoed through the woods, but no one answered. The realization hit her all at once—she was lost.

Tears welled up in her big hazel eyes, spilling over and freezing on her flushed cheeks. Kaia sniffled, wiping at them with her mittens, but they kept coming.

“Kaia sowwy…” she whimpered to no one in particular, her small frame shaking as she clutched her toy tighter. She took a shaky step forward, then another, unsure of where she was going but desperate to find someone—anyone.

“Kaia cold…” she whispered, her voice breaking as she trudged further into the unknown, the trees swallowing her tiny figure in their shadowy embrace.

-----

Cassian and Rhys sprinted through the snow, their boots crunching harshly against the ground as they called out for Kaia. Their voices echoed off the trees, but all they received in return was the sound of the wind howling through the forest, the world around them unnervingly silent.

"Kaia!" Cassian shouted, his voice hoarse with a mix of fear and desperation. His wings flared behind him, instinctively seeking altitude, trying to get a better view, but the snow and trees blocked his sight.

Rhys was no better. He was using his magic, casting them out like dark tendrils, hoping they would find her scent, hoping they would be able to pinpoint her location. His face was taut, the normally calm and collected High Lord now fraught with panic, his chest tight as he pushed forward.

"Where the hell could she be?!" Rhys snapped, his teeth gritted as he forced himself to stay calm, despite the growing panic clawing at his chest. His magic stretched across the landscape, but they couldn’t seem to find her.

“Kaia!” Cassian yelled again, his voice cracking as he scanned every tree, every path they’d passed. “Baby, where are you?”

His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and it felt like every second that passed only made the distance between them and her grow wider. His mind raced—she’s too small to be out here alone. She’s too young. The snow— His breath hitched, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Rhys, we’ve searched everywhere. We need to—” Cassian stopped mid-sentence, his gaze frantically darting between the trees. He could hear nothing except his own frantic breathing. No sign of her, not even the faintest trace. His wings rustled anxiously as he moved through the snow, but it was like she’d just vanished into thin air.

“No,” Rhys whispered under his breath, shaking his head as if to push the thought away. “She can’t be gone.”

Rhys's eyes were wild as he searched the surroundings, his gaze sweeping over the trees. His usually calm demeanour was slipping, his worry palpable in the way his posture was stiff and rigid. “Cassian, we need to find her. We—”

Suddenly, Rhys’s hand flew to his chest, his breath catching. A surge of panic surged through him, and he spun, locking eyes with Cassian. “We can’t lose her. We can’t…”

Cassian’s wings twitched as his frustration boiled over. “We won’t. We’ll find her, Rhys,” he barked, his voice louder than before, but even his own words didn’t seem to soothe the storm of worry that was overtaking him. "Kaia! Come on, baby, where are you?"

They both continued to push forward, searching for any sign, but it was like the forest itself had swallowed her whole. The snow crunched beneath their feet, but every direction they turned only seemed to get colder, darker, and more empty.

Rhys was beginning to lose his focus, the lack of any trace of her driving him to the edge of his control. "She has to be here," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Cassian. His shadows were no help, his power failing him in the vast expanse of the woods.

Cassian glanced over at Rhys, his face pale with worry. The wind picked up, biting into their skin, making it harder to breathe and focus. The trees seemed to loom taller, closing in on them with every step they took, the very environment mocking their efforts to find her.

"Kaia!" They both shouted again in unison, their voices overlapping, but the silence that followed was deafening.

"I— I can’t—" Cassian’s voice faltered as he stopped abruptly, taking in a shaky breath. The panic was suffocating, his heart hammering in his chest like it would burst. His thoughts raced through his mind in a chaotic mess, and his wings drooped slightly in exhaustion. The cold gnawed at him, but it was nothing compared to the terror swelling in his chest.

Rhys stepped forward, his eyes scanning every direction. He reached out with his shadows again, desperation thick in his voice. “Kaia...”

They both paused, hearts pounding, waiting for some sign of her—anything to guide them. But nothing came.

“Where the hell are you, Kaia?” Cassian’s voice broke through the quiet, his hands clenched into fists.

They were losing time. Each minute that passed felt like an eternity, and with every step, the dread sank deeper into their chests.

The temperature was dropping quickly, and both Cassian and Rhys could feel it—sharp and biting against their skin. The once soft, powdery snow now seemed to cling to them, heavier, as the wind picked up, howling through the trees with an eerie howl. The cold was seeping deeper into their bones, an oppressive chill that made their breaths come out in white puffs, cutting through the silence around them.

Cassian shivered despite the fire in his chest, the cold gnawing at him in a way that he couldn’t ignore. He looked up, squinting against the wind, his heart racing in his chest. "She’s too small for this..." His words were barely audible against the wind, but the deepening cold in the air only made his worry grow worse. She can’t be out here, not in this.

Rhys clenched his jaw, his usual calm demeanour cracking under the weight of fear. "It’s getting worse..." he muttered, his hand instinctively moving to his chest as if to steady the growing panic inside him. He called to his magic once more, desperate for any sign of Kaia. Where are you? His mind screamed, but the answer never came.

Cassian’s wings twitched uncomfortably as the freezing air wrapped around him, pushing against him as if the forest itself were trying to separate them from the rest of the world. The cold was only getting sharper, and it felt like it was closing in on them. The once beautiful landscape, full of snow-capped trees and quiet serenity, now seemed like an endless maze, trapping them in its grasp.

“The wind’s picking up... she’s not prepared for this,” Rhys said, his voice tight with concern. He turned to Cassian, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of dread and frustration. "We have to find her. Now."

Cassian nodded sharply, the cold digging into his bones as if trying to freeze the fear within him. The air felt heavy, pressing in on him, as if the world was holding its breath in anticipation. His wings were flared again, and he was desperately searching for any movement in the trees, any glimpse of Kaia’s small form.

"Kaia!" Rhys shouted once more, his voice cutting through the cold silence. “Where are you?”

The wind howled in response, but there was still no answer. Nothing but the crushing silence and the cold, creeping into their bodies, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Cassian’s breath hitched in his throat as the realization set in. The temperature was dropping, and it was doing so rapidly. If they didn’t find her soon, the cold could be more than she could handle. Her wings weren’t built for this—too young, too small, and unprepared for the harsh winds that swept through the mountainside.

Rhys’s expression hardened, his power flaring around him, but even his shadows couldn’t find her. "We need to move faster, Cassian," he urged, his voice tight with urgency. “If she’s out here in this, she won’t last much longer.”

Cassian didn’t need to hear any more. His wings beat hard against the icy air, carrying him deeper into the forest, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow, but the cold kept pushing back against them. The chill pressed into his skin like a vice, and his heart pounded in his chest, matching the fear that rose within him.

The two of them continued to search, but the weight of the freezing air, the deafening silence that surrounded them, and the growing panic made it harder to focus. She has to be out there. They both thought. But each second felt like an eternity, and with every passing minute, the temperature dropped further.

"Kaia!" Rhys called once more, his voice almost a growl, but still no response came. The wind cut through him, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of dread that churned in his stomach.

The cold wasn’t just a physical threat—it was a symbol of the fear that had lodged deep inside them both.

-----

Kaia crouched under the large tree, hugging her toy tightly to her chest, her small wings wrapped around her body for warmth. Her toddler instincts had led her deeper into the forest, further away from the safety of the cabin and the sounds of her uncles’ calls. The cold had numbed her little hands and made her cheeks flush a bright pink, but she was determined to stay where she was, feeling safer in the shadows beneath the thick branches.

The wind howled above her, the snow swirling like a blizzard as the forest seemed to close in on her. The trees creaked, their branches swaying violently in the wind, but Kaia barely noticed the icy cold seeping deeper into her bones. Her wide, innocent eyes were focused on the soft movement around her—just a small speck of motion that caught her attention. Her instincts tingled, a small sense of curiosity overriding any lingering fear.

From the corner of her eye, a figure emerged from the shadows—tall, cloaked in dark, tattered fabric that fluttered eerily in the wind. Kaia’s eyes narrowed as the figure came closer, her small body still trembling from the cold. The figure’s face was hidden beneath a heavy hood, but Kaia could see the sharp outline of its face—a hollow, ghostly shape that sent a brief pang of unease through her chest.

But then the voice came—low, croaky, as if it had been unused for far too long. It rasped through the air like dry leaves.

"Come here, little one..." The figure’s voice was unnaturally soft, almost coaxing, as it reached down towards Kaia. "Come with me... I’ll keep you safe."

Kaia blinked, her confusion clear on her face as she looked up at the figure. She didn’t recognize the voice, but the words... they were so familiar. Safe. It sounded so comforting in her small, innocent mind, a reassurance she hadn’t realized she needed until now.

Her little hands grasped her toy tighter, but the figure’s voice soothed her, and the warmth in its tone seemed to push away the lingering fear from the cold and the isolation.

“Come... you’ll be warm with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where no one can hurt you...” The figure’s hand extended further, reaching for Kaia with long, skeletal fingers, the tips twitching like a spider’s legs. It was as if it knew the deep vulnerability of a child alone in the snow and how easily it could be manipulated.

Kaia’s eyes flickered from the figure’s hand to its face, but she didn’t see the danger, her dada always protected her from it. All she saw was something that promised warmth, protection—things that she needed in the moment. Her tiny mind, too young and trusting to see the threat, reached out and took a hesitant step toward the cloaked figure.

“Safe...” Kaia muttered, her toddler speech slurring as she spoke the word with complete faith. She moved forward a few steps, the wind biting at her cheeks, but still, the figure seemed to offer something she couldn’t resist.

The figure’s hand hovered just out of reach, beckoning her closer, and Kaia took another step, her wings twitching with uncertainty but not enough to stop her from moving forward.

"Yes, that’s it. Come with me, and you’ll be safe," the voice croaked again, and it felt like the only thing Kaia needed to hear in that moment.

She took another step, the promise of safety outweighing the concerns in her tiny heart. The figure’s cold presence was nothing more than a shadow against the warmth of the words it spoke.

And for the first time since running away from the cabin, Kaia felt a flicker of something warm inside her—something that made her trust this cloaked stranger without hesitation.

-----

The snow was heavier now, falling in thick, relentless sheets. The once-silent woods had transformed into a labyrinth of white, where each tree and path seemed indistinguishable from the next. The wind whipped through the branches, howling like a creature in pain, and the temperature had dropped further. Every minute they spent out here was a risk they couldn't afford.

Rhys and Cassian had been searching for over an hour, their hearts pounding in their chests as they called Kaia’s name again and again, but the only answer was the howling wind and the creaking of trees. The world had become a blur of white, the snow underfoot crunching with every step they took, but it was as if Kaia had vanished into thin air.

Rhys wiped the snow from his face, his violet eyes darting over the trees, his senses straining to catch any trace of her. He could feel the overwhelming panic creeping into his chest, a tightness that refused to loosen. Kaia’s small, fragile form—so vulnerable in this brutal environment—was all he could think about. The thought of her out here alone, with the temperature continuing to plummet, made every inch of his body ache with worry.

“Where is she, Cass?” Rhys snapped, his voice tight with barely contained frustration. He knew they’d searched every inch of this area, and yet there was nothing. No sign of her footprints, no faint trace of her presence, no little voice calling out to them.

Cassian was no better off. His wings were heavy with snow, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he scanned the woods. His heart had started to race long ago, the cold starting to settle deep in his bones. "We can’t keep doing this, Rhys," Cassian said, his voice strained, “We’ve covered every inch of this damn forest. We’re not going to find her out here like this.”

Rhys' face twisted in frustration, his mind whirling with guilt. “We can’t stop searching! She’s out there somewhere, Cass. We can’t—”

Cassian cut him off with a sharp shake of his head, his voice low and pained. “If we stay out here any longer, we’re going to freeze. The temperature’s dropping fast, and we’re losing our daylight. We can’t keep going like this, not without risking more lives.”

Rhys clenched his jaw, his hands balled into fists as the realization sank in. He knew Cassian was right. Their wings were covered in snow, their bodies cold and numb from the exposure. And worst of all, their search wasn’t yielding any results. They were only growing weaker and more disoriented by the second.

The harsh reality struck him—Kaia couldn’t survive out here for much longer. The cold, her wings still so new and fragile, and the isolation. She wouldn’t have the strength to make it on her own for long. Rhys’ heart dropped like a stone in his chest.

“We need to go back to the cabin and get help,” Rhys said, his voice low, filled with the weight of dread. “We can’t risk any more time out here.”

Cassian nodded grimly, and they both turned, reluctantly heading back in the direction they had come from. The snow had begun to swirl around them more violently now, their path obscured with each passing second.

It felt like the entire forest was conspiring against them.

They moved with urgency, but there was no escaping the sinking feeling in their stomachs. With every step, their hopes seemed to slip further away, the cold gnawing at their very souls. Cassian’s thoughts were consumed with guilt—how could he have let this happen? How had he failed to keep an eye on her? Kaia was just a baby, so small and so trusting.

“How long until she can’t survive out here?” Cassian muttered, his voice tight with emotion. Rhys didn’t answer, because they both knew the answer. The temperature was dropping so rapidly, and Kaia was just a little girl with tiny wings—she could be so easily lost to the cold. And truly Rhysand knows she'd be dead by now.

“Don’t talk like that, Cass,” Rhys snapped, his voice strained, his fists clenched tightly as they pushed forward.

“Just saying it like it is,” Cassian muttered back, his voice rough.

The moment Rhysand and Cassian reached the cabin, exhaustion hanging heavy in their bones, Rhys wasted no time. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of their failure in not finding Kaia pressing down on him like an iron vice. His wings were stiff with the cold, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he staggered into the warmth of the cabin.

He didn’t even take a moment to pause. His mind was already reaching out to Morrigan, his thoughts sharp and urgent.

Mor, he projected mentally, his voice laced with panic, get over here, now. Bring Emerie with you.

He felt a brief, sharp moment of silence, then the flicker of Morrigan’s presence, her steady, confident tone coming through in response.

On our way, Rhys, Morrigan’s voice came through, smooth as silk but filled with a clear sense of urgency. What’s happening?

Rhys didn’t have time for pleasantries. He inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing with barely controlled panic.

Kaia’s gone, he said, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. She’s somewhere out there, and we’ve lost her. We need help now—Emerie’s skills will be vital.

There was a pause. He could sense the shift in Morrigan’s thoughts, her usual unshakable calm now touched with concern.

We’re winnowing now, she replied quickly. Hold on, Rhys.

And just like that, the presence of Morrigan and Emerie vanished from his mind. He reached for Cassian, who was pacing by the door, his face pinched with guilt and frustration.

“They’ll be here,” Rhys said firmly, trying to give his friend something to hold onto in the face of the uncertainty. “Mor and Emerie are on their way.”

Cassian didn’t look reassured. His eyes were still filled with the same terror Rhys had been carrying since they first realized Kaia was missing. But at least they had done something. At least they had people on their side who could help.

The air in the cabin felt suffocating as they waited, every second dragging by in painful silence.

Rhys glanced back toward the door, the tension hanging thick in the air. Every time the wind howled outside, it felt like a reminder of how much time they were losing. How much they couldn’t afford to waste.

Then, with a crackle of energy, the faint sound of the winnow shimmered in the air, and the door slammed open. Morrigan and Emerie appeared in an instant, stepping into the cabin with force and purpose.

“Where is she?” Morrigan asked, her voice firm yet laced with concern as she took in the sight of both males standing there, clearly drained.

Rhys exhaled sharply, his voice tight. “She ran off into the woods. We’ve been searching, but we’ve hit a wall. The cold’s gotten worse, and we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

Emerie was already moving, her dark eyes scanning the room. “I’ll go with Mor,” she said quietly, her voice unwavering. “We’ll track her together.”

Morrigan nodded and winnowed again, Emerie following right behind her. Rhys and Cassian shared one last look before Rhys reached for his brother's arm.

“We’ll be here,” Cassian said quietly, his voice strained. He swallowed hard, doing everything in his power not to show the fear gnawing at him.

“Do what you have to,” Rhys replied, clapping Cassian’s shoulder briefly before turning back, where they would wait. It was all they could do. All they couldn’t do, it felt like.

Rhys stood in the center of the cabin, the silence suffocating around him. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he stared at the door through which Morrigan and Emerie had just left, their forms already vanished in the winnow. His body was still tense, but in his mind, the only thought running over and over was how he had failed.

He had failed you.

He had failed Azriel.

And worse of all, he had failed Kaia.

The knot in his chest grew tighter as his hands clenched at his sides, the cold bite of his fingers doing little to ground him. Kaia, his niece—the child he had vowed to protect—was out there in the forest, alone, in the freezing cold. The thought of her vulnerable, small wings not ready for the chill that was settling over the land, it felt like a blade twisting inside his gut.

He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let that happen.

His thoughts turned to you. He couldn’t even imagine the fear you would feel when you woke up and found that your daughter was gone. You had enough to deal with, with Kaia’s early birth, the struggle it took to get her healthy and safe. Rhys had promised himself that he would always be there for you, that no matter what happened, you and your family would never suffer in silence.

And now, he’d failed.

The weight of the responsibility, the lives of everyone he cared about—Azriel, his brother who had already been through so much, had been through hell just to get to where they were—pressed on Rhys’s chest like an anchor. How could he have let this happen? How had he not seen the signs earlier, that Kaia might slip away, that she might wander off like this? He had taken his eyes off her for seconds.

Seconds.

It was those seconds that had been enough for her to slip away, enough for the cold to set in, enough for everything to go wrong.

Rhys stepped toward the window, the weight of his own failure nearly crippling him. His wings hung heavily behind him, almost dragging the ground as he stood there. The wind outside howled with fury, the snow piling in thick layers. It was as if nature itself was mocking him for not being able to protect his family.

His mind flashed to Azriel—the look in his eyes when he realized Kaia was missing, the way Azriel had begged him to find her, his quiet desperation filling every word. How could he explain to Azriel, to you, how he had failed them both?

“You promised you’d keep her safe, Rhys,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the howl of the wind. “You promised.”

It was an empty promise now, hanging in the air like a ghost. The weight of the world, the weight of his promises, felt like it was about to crush him.

But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t break down completely, not now. Not when Kaia was still out there, not when there was still a chance to bring her back.

He pressed his hands to his face, taking a deep, shaky breath. His mind began to race again, to push through the overwhelming grief and guilt, forcing himself to think. They would find her. He wouldn’t give up.

But the guilt of failing—of letting you down, of letting Azriel down, of letting Kaia down—was going to follow him for a long time.

Cassian sank down onto the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion and dread. His legs felt like they might give out beneath him, the weight of the search, the worry, and the guilt pressing down on him in waves. His hand ran through his hair, gripping it as though he could pull out the frustration, the fear, and the helplessness that had settled deep inside him.

His breath was ragged, his chest tight with the panic of what had just happened. He could still feel the cold of the forest, the snow biting at his skin, the echo of Kaia’s laughter ringing in his ears, the way she had run off so carelessly. He had let his guard down, he never does that. He had promised to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was safe—and he had failed.

He looked over at Rhys, who was standing near the window, his posture rigid, his face drawn with the same pain that was gnawing at Cassian. They both knew what this felt like—what it meant. It wasn’t just about Kaia being out there in the cold. It wasn’t just about the dangers she might be facing. It was the weight of responsibility, the crushing sense of failure that came with not being able to protect the ones you loved.

Cassian’s heart clenched at the thought of you, of how you’d feel when you woke up and realized Kaia was missing. He couldn’t bear to imagine the horror in your eyes, the panic, the worry that would consume you. And Azriel… Azriel, who had already been through so much. He would be devastated. How could he look him in the eye knowing that Kaia, his little girl, was lost?

Cassian’s hands balled into fists, but he didn’t have the energy to release the tension in his body. His eyes flickered to the door, his mind racing, trying to come up with a plan. They couldn’t give up. Not now. They couldn’t let the cold or the darkness defeat them.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, the nagging doubt crept in. What if it was too late? What if the cold had already taken Kaia, already—

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with emotion. He slammed his fist into the cushion, trying to release some of the frustration, the helplessness, the overwhelming guilt.

He had failed. He had promised he would protect her, and now…

Cassian clenched his jaw, trying to hold it together. But the weight of the failure, the guilt of what had happened, settled deeper into his bones.

“We’ll find her, Cass,” Rhys’s voice broke through his thoughts, a quiet but steady reassurance. But even Rhys’s calm tone couldn’t fully mask the fear and guilt they both shared.

Cassian nodded, though he didn’t believe the words as much as he wanted to. The thought of Kaia out there alone, vulnerable… it was too much.

He had to hold onto the hope, but in that moment, it felt like the darkness would swallow them all.

Nearly three hours had passed, and every minute felt like a lifetime. The cabin was heavy with the silence of defeat as Rhysand and Cassian anxiously paced back and forth, each man lost in his own tortured thoughts. The cold outside had only grown more intense, and the weight of the search hung over them like an unbearable cloud.

Finally, they heard the unmistakable sound of the winnow, the sudden rush of air that signalled the arrival of Morrigan and Emerie. But as the door opened and the two women stepped inside, there was no joy in their faces, no relief in their posture. The hope they had arrived with seemed to have dissipated, replaced by something heavier—something darker.

Morrigan’s jaw was set tight, her eyes dark with the same frustration and helplessness that had taken root in both Rhys and Cassian. Emerie’s face was even grimmer, her usually sharp, determined gaze clouded with the weight of failure.

“We’ve searched every inch of the area we could,” Morrigan said quietly, her voice tight, as though even speaking the words was too much. She let out a slow breath, trying to steady herself, but the sorrow was clear in her expression. “The wind and the snow have wiped away any tracks. We couldn’t find anything, Rhys. Nothing.”

Rhys and Cassian both stood frozen, the reality of her words sinking into them like a cold, hard stone.

Cassian’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to spin. He wanted to argue, to fight, to demand that they keep searching, but he knew deep down that Morrigan was right. If she couldn’t find her, no one could.

“What do you mean nothing?” Cassian asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the desperation was clear. He wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. “You’re telling me she’s… gone?”

Emerie, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, her voice quiet but heavy with the weight of the truth. “The snowstorm is getting worse, and we’ve done everything we can. I’ve searched the forest using my power, but there’s no trace of her. No scent, no sign. It’s like she vanished.”

“Damn it…” Cassian’s voice cracked as he tried to control the rising panic in his chest. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes blurred with unshed tears. He couldn’t process what he was hearing. His little niece, the one he had promised to protect, was… gone.

Rhys looked over at him, his eyes filled with a kind of understanding, but it didn’t help. Cassian didn’t need understanding. He needed Kaia.

“I don’t…” Rhys started, his voice faltering for the first time since they’d arrived. “I don’t understand. How can she just vanish? Where the hell is she?”

“She’s lost in the woods,” Morrigan said softly, shaking her head as though she too couldn’t believe it. “But it’s not just the woods. The weather’s too much, and her wings… they aren’t fully developed. It’s too cold for her out there. We all know that.”

Cassian couldn’t breathe. Every word felt like a punch to the gut, and yet there was no escape from the weight of them. He had failed her. He had promised to protect her, and now he had no way to make it right. He didn’t know how to even begin to fix this.

“Are we… are we just giving up?” Cassian asked, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, but they all came back to the same horrifying conclusion. They had lost her.

Morrigan and Emerie exchanged a glance, and the silence between them was deafening. They knew what he was asking. They had searched. They had exhausted every option they had. But even they couldn’t bring themselves to say the words that hovered on the edge of their lips: they couldn’t find her.

“I wish I could say something different,” Morrigan said finally, her voice strained. “But we have to face the truth. The longer we wait, the colder it gets out there. And Kaia… she’s so small, so vulnerable. If we don’t find her soon, we might not be able to.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. There was no denying the harsh reality.

Rhys turned away, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to hold himself together. His mind was reeling, his thoughts racing, but they were all rooted in one thing: Kaia was missing. And no matter how much he wished, hoped, or prayed, he couldn’t change it.

Cassian let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he finally allowed himself to sink into the couch. His body was rigid with tension, but the weight of the situation, the overwhelming guilt and fear, left him too exhausted to even speak.

Kaia was out there in the freezing cold, alone. And no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t bring her back.

The snow outside the window had only grown more violent as the minutes passed. The winds howled like a wild animal, clawing at the cabin, sending gusts of snow swirling in every direction. It battered against the glass, a constant reminder of the storm raging outside. The once soft flakes had turned into sharp, biting gusts that seemed to cut through the air, obscuring any semblance of visibility. The wind's shrill scream echoed through the cabin walls, only adding to the tension that hung heavily in the room.

Inside, the four of them sat in grim silence, the warmth of the fire doing little to ease the chill that had settled in their bones. The storm outside was relentless, and yet, in that moment, it felt like the world was closing in around them.

Cassian rubbed his face, his hand rough against his stubble as he gazed out the window, his eyes dark with worry and frustration. The wind outside howled, a reminder of how helpless they were against the elements. He could hear it tearing through the trees, shaking the branches violently as if it was reaching out to take what they had lost. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts racing as the guilt continued to eat away at him.

"This storm isn't letting up," Rhysand muttered, his voice low and thick with a mix of frustration and helplessness. He stood at the window, his eyes scanning the dense snowfall, but there was nothing but a wall of white. "If the snow continues like this, we won't be able to see anything in that forest, and Kaia... she's out there somewhere."

Morrigan, standing beside him, clenched her jaw as she too watched the storm with concern. "We can't wait much longer. We need to get back out there, but the weather's getting worse by the minute. It’s dangerous."

Cassian shot a glance at her, the strain of his emotions written all over his face. "We already know that. But what choice do we have? We can’t just sit here and do nothing." His voice cracked with the weight of it. "She's out there in this hell."

The wind picked up again, howling louder than before, and the snow outside seemed to blur the world beyond. Each gust of wind felt like an attack, stripping away any remaining hope. The trees outside creaked and groaned under the pressure, bending at impossible angles as the storm raged on.

"We need to move now," Rhysand said, his voice resolute despite the growing storm. "We don’t have the luxury of waiting for it to pass. We’re already losing time." He turned to the others, his face hard with determination, even as the worry in his eyes betrayed him. "If we’re going to find her, we need to do it now. The longer we stay here, the less likely we are to make it through this."

The wind howled again, shaking the walls of the cabin, and the sound was almost deafening. The fire crackled in the hearth, but it seemed so small, so insignificant against the fury of the storm outside. The tension in the room was palpable, and the cold from the wind seeped deeper into their bones, no longer just a physical chill, but an emotional one.

Rhys turned to Cassian, his face tight with the weight of the decision. "We’ll need to go out together. We can’t afford to split up. If we’re going to have any chance of finding her, we need to move fast."

Cassian nodded grimly, though his gaze remained locked on the window. "If we don’t find her soon, the snow will cover her tracks. We’ll lose her completely."

Morrigan sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. "And if we can’t find her in this storm, we may never find her again."

As the storm outside continued to howl and rage, the cold was no longer just outside their cabin walls—it was within them too, gnawing at their hearts as they prepared to venture back into the storm.

-----

Azriel sat at the far end of a long, oak table in the camp lord’s private quarters, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the glass in front of him. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the flickering light casting shadows that danced across the walls, creating an oddly calming atmosphere for the tense conversation. His sharp eyes, however, never stopped scanning the room, watching for any subtle movements or changes in posture from the camp lord sitting across from him.

The camp lord—a tall, broad-shouldered fae with a reputation for his cunning in negotiations—was leaning back in his chair, a glass of wine in his hand, his expression one of practiced indifference. The man’s dark, storm-grey eyes bore into Azriel as he spoke, though Azriel’s own gaze never wavered, his usual calm demeanour unbroken.

“I trust you understand the importance of this deal, Shadowsinger,” the camp lord said, his voice low but firm. “The terms are clear. We provide the resources, you offer us the protection we need for our interests. You’ll get what you want in return for ensuring my people are safe from those who might disrupt our trade routes.”

Azriel nodded, his expression impassive. “I’m aware of the stakes. But don’t mistake our cooperation for a favor. We expect you to hold up your end of the bargain.” His voice was as steady as ever, yet there was an edge to it—a subtle warning, unspoken but understood.

The camp lord smiled, a sharp, calculating grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. You’ll find that I honour my word. After all, it is my reputation on the line.”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their respective roles hanging between them. Azriel's shadows flitted restlessly around the room, a reflection of his own unease. He had been sent here to ensure the safety of the agreement, to verify that the camp lord’s offer was genuine, and to keep watch over any potential threats. Yet in this moment, with the fire crackling and the wine dulling his senses, his thoughts kept wandering back to the cabin, to Kaia’s absence, to the tension he had felt when he left.

"I trust you’ve taken care of the logistical matters as we discussed?" Azriel asked, his tone almost casual, though his mind was far from relaxed.

The camp lord set his glass down, eyes narrowing as he folded his arms across his chest. “Everything is in motion. We’ve reinforced the defences around the perimeter and are increasing patrols. You can tell your people that the camp will be secure. My people are loyal.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow, sceptical. “Loyalty can be bought. It’s trust that I need.”

The camp lord smirked, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Trust is earned, Shadowsinger. But you should know, my loyalty is not so easily swayed. We’ve been through worse. This is just another battle.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately. His fingers brushed the edge of his glass again, the coolness of the crystal a stark contrast to the heat in his chest. He was getting impatient.

“Do you think I care about your battles?” Azriel’s voice dropped, the shadows around him flickering slightly in response to his growing frustration. “I came here to see if your promises are worth anything. Don’t waste my time.”

The camp lord straightened, his smile slipping for just a moment before he regained his composure. “I assure you, the resources we discussed are already being prepared. In exchange, we expect protection, as agreed.”

Azriel’s gaze hardened as he leaned forward slightly, fixing the camp lord with a piercing stare. “Then I’ll expect you to be here when the time comes. If not, I’ll deal with it.”

The camp lord didn’t flinch, maintaining his calm exterior, but Azriel knew the threat had been heard. He wasn’t here for idle talk, and he certainly wasn’t here for more empty promises. He needed results, and he needed them now.

There was a brief silence as the two of them sat in the stillness of the room, the tension thick in the air. Azriel’s thoughts wandered once more to the cabin, to Kaia, to the storm brewing outside. He felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him, the gnawing worry creeping in.

But he wasn’t going to show it.

Instead, he stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled. “I’ll check in again before I leave. Make sure everything is in order.”

The camp lord nodded, sensing that the conversation was winding down. “Of course. And I trust you’ll take care of any... potential threats while you’re here?”

Azriel’s lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile as his shadows swirled in the corner of the room. “That’s what I’m paid for.”

With one last glance at the camp lord, Azriel turned and walked toward the door, the weight of his responsibilities pulling him back to the cabin. There was no time to waste. His family was waiting.

-----

Kaia was sitting in the corner of a small, dimly lit house wagon, her tiny hands bound tightly to the wooden post. The cold, damp air pressed in through the cracks in the walls, and the musty smell of the wagon’s interior made her wrinkly nose twitch. Her little chest heaved with sobs as tears streaked down her pale cheeks, her little body trembling from the fear of her unknown surroundings.

The cloaked figure was standing near the doorway, their back turned to her as they muttered something under their breath. The harsh, scratchy fabric of the cloak swished as they moved, but Kaia wasn’t paying attention to that. Her small, frantic breaths were all she could focus on, each sob wracking her fragile frame as she strained against the ropes that bound her.

"Shut up!" the cloaked figure suddenly screamed, turning toward her with eyes that burned with anger, their voice hoarse and threatening. Kaia flinched at the sharp tone, and her body instinctively shrank back, her little hands pulling uselessly at the ropes. Her sobs grew louder, her small voice rising in desperation.

"Pwease..." she whimpered in her baby speech, her voice thin and full of fear. "Want Mama... want Dada..."

The figure took a step toward her, their presence looming over her small, curled form, but Kaia barely registered it. All she could think about was her mama and dada. The faces she missed so much, the warmth of their love and safety. She wanted nothing more than to be held by them again.

"Shh," the figure hissed, reaching out and grabbing her chin roughly, forcing her to meet their cold, impassive gaze. "You’ll be quiet, or else."

Kaia recoiled, tears filling her big, frightened eyes, and she began to cry harder, her wails echoing in the small wagon as she called out for the only two people she knew could make everything better.

"Dada!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Mama, pwease... Dada!"

She squirmed against the ropes, trying to pull herself free, but they held her too tightly. The world seemed to close in on her as the sound of her own voice echoed through the small wagon, a cacophony of fear and confusion.

Her cries filled the air, the desperation in her tone clear as day, but the cloaked figure just stood there, their face impassive, their expression unreadable. Kaia didn’t understand what was happening—didn’t understand why she was tied up, why she couldn’t feel the warmth of her mama’s arms or the comforting presence of her dada.

“Shut up,” the figure muttered again, their voice a low growl as they stepped back.

But Kaia couldn't stop. She couldn’t stop wanting to be with the people who loved her, the ones who made everything better. She cried louder, her sobs wracking her small body, her heart aching in her chest.

"Dada! Mama!" She said through hiccupped sobs, barely able to form the words as they slipped from her lips in her frantic baby speech.

All she wanted was her parents to come and take her away from this horrible place, away from this cold, unkind person who was hurting her. But there was nothing she could do. All she could do was cry, her tiny voice breaking with each word as she called for her mama and dada over and over again.

The cloaked figure moved toward Kaia with an unsettling quietness, the air around her growing colder as they approached. She instinctively recoiled, her small wings fluttering desperately in an attempt to escape their grasp. But the figure was too quick. They reached down, their hands cold and unyielding as they grabbed a firm hold of her wings—those precious, delicate appendages that had caused her so much pain already.

Kaia’s breath hitched, a sharp, painful cry escaping her lips as the figure yanked her upward, the sharp tug pulling at the sensitive skin of her wings. Tears immediately filled her wide eyes as she whimpered in pain, her wings folding tightly against her small body in a desperate attempt to protect herself.

“Shh, quiet now,” the cloaked figure murmured, but their voice had no kindness, no comfort. It only made Kaia’s heart race harder, her tiny body trembling in fear. She wanted to cry out, but the pain in her wings made it hard to form the words, and all she could do was whimper.

“Pwease, pwease,” she begged in her baby speech, her voice breaking with each word. “W-wings hurt... mama... dada... pwease!” Her hands balled into tiny fists, but they were too small to fight back. She was too small, too fragile.

But the figure wasn’t listening. They only dragged her through the cramped space, a cruel determination in their movements. With a swift motion, they shoved Kaia into a small, tight cage tucked beneath a desk—a cage so small that Kaia had to curl up tightly just to fit inside. The metal bars pressed against her tiny body, cold and unwelcoming, and the darkness of the cage enveloped her like a heavy blanket. She whimpered as she squirmed, trying to find comfort, but the tight space only made her feel more trapped.

Her breath quickened as she pressed her face against the cold bars, her little wings fluttering helplessly behind her. She wanted to get out, wanted to run to her mama, her dada—but the bars held her prisoner.

“Wanna go home…” she whimpered, her voice small and shaky, the toddler speech slipping from her lips as she curled up in the cramped cage. “Mama… Dada… pwease, pwease come… find me…” Her voice cracked with each sob, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

Kaia’s tiny hands reached through the bars, but there was nothing to hold onto. There was no comfort, no safety. The cold of the cage seeped into her bones, making her feel even smaller, even more alone. She tugged at the bars, her little body growing more frantic, but there was nothing she could do. The figure stood over her, watching as she cried, and Kaia’s heart broke with each tear that fell from her eyes.

“Dada, pwease…” she whispered, the words so quiet they barely left her lips. “Pwease…” She wanted nothing more than to be back in her mama's arms, to feel the warmth of her father's presence again. But all she could do was cry and hope, hope that somehow, someone would come and take her away from this horrible place.

-----

The wind howled through the trees as Rhys, Cassian, Morrigan, and Emery trudged back into the cabin, their faces pale with exhaustion and worry. Their clothes were soaked from the snow, their boots heavy with layers of ice, but it was the sinking feeling in their hearts that weighed them down the most.

They had spent the past five hours scouring the woods, calling Kaia’s name, listening to the howling wind for any sign of her, but it was as if she had vanished into thin air. Despite their best efforts, they had found nothing—no trace, no footprints, nothing. The hours had slipped by unnoticed as the blizzard intensified, the temperature plummeting further with each passing minute.

Rhys, his jaw clenched tight, had been the first to speak when they had been forced to call off the search, his voice hoarse from the cold. "We can’t keep going. The temperatures are dropping too fast, and the snow’s only getting worse. Kaia’s small… She wouldn’t survive out there in this storm."

Cassian had been the one to argue first, his eyes wild with panic. “We can’t just stop looking! She’s out there—she has to be! She can’t be gone, Rhys!”

Morrigan had put a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, her usual strength faltering. “We know, Cass. But it’s not safe out there. The snow’s too thick, and the wind’s turning into a full blizzard. We need to get back inside, or we’ll all be caught in it.”

Emery, normally calm and collected, had remained silent, her face hard as stone, the worry in her eyes betraying her outward composure. She had done everything she could, but even she had been forced to admit defeat when the weather had become too violent.

��Let's go back,” Morrigan had finally said, her voice soft, but firm. “We’ll regroup, and maybe we’ll have better luck when the weather clears.”

Now, back in the cabin, their clothes dripping with snowmelt, the weight of their failure hung heavy in the air. The fire was burning low in the hearth, its warm glow offering only a faint comfort against the cold that had crept into their bones.

Rhys walked over to the window, staring out at the swirling white chaos outside. The storm was relentless, the blizzard more violent now than it had been when they first set out. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking of Kaia, so small and vulnerable out there, and the guilt that gnawed at his insides threatened to tear him apart.

“They’re staying at the camp overnight,” Morrigan said quietly, as if reading his thoughts. “The boys. We couldn’t risk bringing them back in these conditions.”

Cassian, who had been pacing restlessly in the centre of the room, paused at her words. “I hate this. I hate not being able to protect them. All of them.”

“None of us could have predicted this,” Emery said softly, her tone gentle as she put a hand on his arm. “You did everything you could.”

But Cassian just shook his head, his eyes distant. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

The cabin felt colder somehow, the weight of their silence filling the room as they all struggled with the same harsh truth—they hadn’t found Kaia. And with the storm raging outside, the odds of finding her now were slim to none.

As Rhys continued to stare out at the snow, his thoughts turned to you. He knew how much you had trusted him with Kaia’s safety, and now, in this moment, he felt like he had failed you too. The thought of returning to you empty-handed, with nothing but bad news, weighed heavily on his heart.

Morrigan, noticing the shift in the atmosphere, spoke up again. “We’ll go out again once the storm passes. We won’t stop looking until we bring her back.”

Rhys nodded, though the hopelessness in his eyes was hard to hide. “We better.”

Rhys stood at the window, his back turned to the others as he watched the snow and wind whip violently outside, the blizzard’s fury matching the storm raging inside him. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from retreating to the window, away from the others, the weight of the moment bearing down on him with unbearable force. The silence of the room was deafening as the fire crackled softly in the corner, but all he could hear was the thudding of his own heart in his ears.

He had failed.

Kaia was out there, alone and scared, and he couldn’t protect her. His own flesh and blood, his niece, and he hadn’t been able to keep her safe. The guilt clawed at him, like an animal tearing at his insides, eating him alive from the inside out. His hand gripped the edge of the window frame so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but it didn’t stop the shaking.

A choked breath escaped him before he could stop it.

He failed Azriel, failed you. He had sworn to protect you both, to keep you and your family safe, and now his niece was out there in the blizzard, helpless. He had failed her too. He promised your dad he'd keep you safe and he promised his mom he'd take care of everything you cherish.

And then the dam inside him broke.

“Damn it,” Rhys muttered under his breath, his voice shaking with emotion. He turned away from the window, his expression raw, vulnerable in a way it hadn’t been in years. His shoulders were slumped, as if the weight of his failure was too much for him to carry. He dragged a hand over his face, his fingers trembling, trying to push down the overwhelming guilt.

“Rhys…” Cassian’s voice was cautious, but Rhys was too far gone now. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. His walls—his usual strength—had cracked, and the torrent of emotion came rushing out all at once.

“I’ve failed,” he whispered harshly, almost to himself, as his voice broke. He could feel the sting of tears threatening, but he refused to let them fall. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who held everything together, but it felt like the very foundation of his soul was crumbling.

Cassian stepped forward, his hand reaching out, but Rhys pulled away before he could touch him. “I’m supposed to protect them,” Rhys continued, his voice thick with emotion. “Kaia, Azriel, you, Feyre... all of you. And now... now I’ve failed. I couldn’t keep her safe, Cassian. I couldn’t keep her out of danger. I promised Azriel I’d look after her and... and now...”

His voice faltered as he trailed off, swallowing hard, as if trying to hold back the full weight of the realization. The guilt gnawed at him, a gnawing, relentless force that wouldn’t let go. He felt as if his entire world was falling apart, and the pieces were slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

“I promised Azriel... I promised YN I’d protect them. And now, what? She’s out there in the cold... alone. I can’t... I can’t be the one who failed her.” Rhys’ chest hitched with emotion as the words spilled out, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t try to keep it together. He didn’t care about being the High Lord in that moment. He was just a broken man who couldn’t save the ones he loved.

Cassian stood there, unsure of what to say, his heart aching for his brother. Morrigan and Emery both watched, their expressions filled with sympathy, but they knew better than to say anything. Sometimes, there were no words. Sometimes, a person just needed to break.

Rhys shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “How can I face YN? How can I tell her I failed her daughter... that I couldn’t protect her? YN named her after our sister and I've already lost her, I can't lose another.”

There was a pause. Then Cassian, with a quiet understanding, stepped forward, his hand landing on Rhys’ shoulder, a silent show of support. "You haven’t failed her yet. We’re still looking, Rhys. We won’t stop until she’s back in your arms."

But Rhys could only shake his head, his eyes hollow. “It’s not enough, Cassian. It’ll never be enough. I let this happen.”

The guilt suffocated him, the cold weight of it pressing on his chest until it became almost too much to bear. For once, Rhys didn’t know what to do. He had always been the one with the answers, the one who could pull everyone together in times of crisis. But now, there was nothing left inside him but the crushing realization that the one thing he had been so sure of—his ability to protect the ones he loved—had failed.

“I failed them,” Rhys whispered again, his voice barely audible. And for the first time in a long time, Rhys felt utterly, completely lost.

The sound of Azriel's wings echoed through the cabin as he entered, brushing snow off his shoulders and shaking out the cold. His hair was damp, his face red from the icy wind that had been biting at him during the flight. He stomped his boots on the mat near the door, grumbling.

“I couldn’t even fly properly in that weather,” he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. “I nearly froze my damn ass off trying to get back here. Who in their right mind would want to live in a place like that—”

Azriel trailed off mid-sentence, his sharp eyes immediately picking up on the unusual tension in the room. Morrigan and Emerie were there, sitting stiffly on the couch, their faces solemn. Cassian was slumped in a chair, his elbows on his knees, looking wrecked in a way Azriel hadn’t seen in decades. Rhysand leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly, his face pale and drawn as though he’d aged years in the span of a single day.

Azriel frowned, his hazel eyes darting between them all. “What’s going on? Why are Morrigan and Emerie here?”

No one answered right away. Morrigan glanced at Rhysand, who didn’t lift his head, and then at Cassian, whose jaw tightened as he avoided Azriel’s gaze. The silence in the room was deafening, oppressive, and a knot of unease started forming in Azriel’s chest.

“What happened?” Azriel demanded, his tone sharper now, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

Morrigan stood, her eyes glassy, and she whispered, “Azriel, I’m so sorry.”

Those words hit him like a physical blow. His breath caught in his throat, and he froze, the blood draining from his face.

“What do you mean?” His voice cracked, trembling as he stepped forward, his gaze darting between all of them. “What are you sorry for?”

When no one responded, Azriel’s shadows began swirling around him anxiously, mirroring the rising panic in his chest. His mind raced, and he tried to piece together what could possibly have gone so wrong. And then the realization struck him like a thunderclap.

“Kaia.”

The name barely left his lips before his legs gave out beneath him. Azriel collapsed to his knees, his wings sagging, his body trembling violently. Cassian and Rhysand were at his side in an instant, steadying him before he could crumple further.

“No... no, no, no,” Azriel choked out, his voice breaking as he tried to push himself up, only to falter. His hands clawed at the floor as his chest heaved, his breaths coming fast and shallow.

Cassian tightened his grip on Azriel’s shoulder, his voice thick with emotion as he said, “Az, we’re going to find her. We’ll get her back. She's out somewhere in the forest...”

But Azriel couldn’t seem to hear him. His hands were shaking, his usually composed demeanour completely shattered as the words tumbled out of him in a desperate, frantic stream.

“She was here—she was safe—I left her safe! How could this happen?” His voice cracked with anguish, his entire body trembling as if the weight of the moment was too much to bear.

“Azriel,” Morrigan whispered, crouching down in front of him, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch his arm. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Azriel shook his head, his throat working furiously as he tried to suppress the sob that threatened to escape. His shadows swirled more violently now, reflecting the storm raging inside him.

“She’s just a baby,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice so broken it barely resembled his own. “She’s so small... so helpless. She must be so scared.”

His head dropped, his forehead pressing against the floor as he gasped for breath, his shoulders shaking. Rhysand knelt beside him, his own expression filled with guilt and sorrow as he placed a hand on Azriel’s back.

“We’ll find her,” Rhysand said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, Azriel, we’ll find her.”

But Azriel didn’t respond. All he could see was Kaia’s tiny face, her bright, curious eyes, and the way she always reached for him when she was scared. The thought of her out there, alone and terrified, was more than he could bear.

For the first time in centuries, Azriel felt completely and utterly powerless.

Azriel remained on the floor for a long moment, his breathing ragged and uneven as he tried to process what had happened. He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, his body trembling with the sheer force of his anguish.

Cassian, still crouched beside him, kept a hand on his shoulder, his own expression tight with guilt and pain. “Az, listen to me. We’ve been out there searching nonstop. Morrigan and Emerie combed every inch of the surrounding area. We’ll go back out as soon as the blizzard lets up.”

Azriel’s head shot up, his hazel eyes blazing with desperation. “She’s out there right now!” he snapped, his voice rising. “She’s out there, scared and cold, and we’re in here— waiting!”

“Azriel,” Rhysand said firmly, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. “If we go back out now, we risk losing more than just her. We won’t be any good to her if we can’t see, can’t move through the snow.”

Azriel surged to his feet, his wings flaring despite the confines of the room. “Then I’ll go alone.”

“No, you won’t,” Morrigan said sharply, stepping into his path. “You’re not thinking clearly, Az. You’ll freeze out there, and Kaia—she needs her father alive to save her.”

Those words stopped him, if only for a moment. Azriel stared at Morrigan, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control of himself. His shadows writhed around him, a chaotic swirl of despair and anger, as if they too were mourning Kaia’s absence.

Rhysand rose to his feet, standing tall as he addressed Azriel, his voice softer now. “We’ll leave at first light. The storm will break by then, and we’ll be able to cover more ground. I swear to you, Az, we won’t stop until we find her.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. He staggered back a step, leaning heavily against the wall, his hands gripping the edge of a nearby table for support.

“She’s just a baby,” he whispered again, his voice breaking. “She shouldn’t have to go through this. Fuck.”

Cassian exchanged a look with Rhysand, both of them understanding the depth of Azriel’s pain. Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel’s arm, squeezing it reassuringly.

“We’ll get her back,” he said firmly. “We’ll get her back, Azriel.”

Azriel nodded weakly, though his expression was far from convinced. He dropped his head into his hands, his body trembling as he tried to keep himself together.

Azriel’s breathing came in sharp, erratic gasps, his chest rising and falling so quickly it seemed he might lose consciousness. His trembling hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that it splintered beneath his grasp, cracks spidering through the wood. His wings, normally so steady, trembled and hung low, dragging slightly on the floor as though they too were weighed down by his anguish.

“Az, breathe,” Cassian urged, stepping closer, his voice steady but laced with concern. “You need to slow down, brother. You’re going to make yourself pass out.”

But Azriel didn’t seem to hear him. His eyes, wide and unfocused, darted around the room, as though searching for an answer no one could provide. His shadows writhed frantically around him, almost out of control, their dark tendrils stretching toward every corner of the room as if trying to escape the suffocating despair emanating from their master.

“Azriel,” Morrigan said softly, stepping closer but careful not to touch him. “Look at me. Focus on my voice.”

It was as though her words didn’t even register. Azriel’s knees buckled slightly, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the table harder, fighting to stay upright. His breathing turned to wheezing, the sound of it raw and strained.

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a worried glance, their minds flashing back to the last time they had seen him like this—when you were in labor with Kaia. It had been a terrifying and harrowing ordeal, your body too fragile to endure the complications that had arisen. The healers had worked tirelessly, and yet there had been a moment when Rhysand had feared they would lose you both.

Azriel had been nearly inconsolable then, pacing the hall outside the birthing room like a caged beast, his shadows snapping at anyone who dared approach. When they had carried you out, pale and unconscious, with Kaia far too small in the healer’s arms, Azriel had fallen to his knees, utterly wrecked.

Now, he was back in that place. Lost. Broken.

“Azriel,” Rhysand said firmly, moving closer despite the swirl of shadows surrounding him. “Breathe. Kaia needs you. We all need you. You can’t help her like this.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I failed her,” he choked out, his voice raw and trembling. “I failed her—just like I almost failed Y/N. I—”

“You didn’t fail anyone,” Cassian interrupted, his voice stern but filled with empathy. “This isn’t your fault, Az. None of this is.”

But Azriel’s shoulders shook as he tried and failed to draw in a deep breath, his body threatening to collapse under the weight of his emotions. It was Rhysand who stepped forward, grabbing his arms and holding him steady.

“Enough,” Rhysand said, his voice cutting through the storm of Azriel’s despair. “You are not alone in this, Azriel. You have us. We will find her. We will bring her back. But you need to pull yourself together right now because Kaia needs her father. She needs you strong.”

Azriel stared at him, his breathing still ragged, but Rhysand’s words seemed to pierce through the haze of panic. Slowly, shakily, Azriel nodded, though his hands still trembled, and his wings quivered with the effort of holding himself upright.

“She’s just a baby,” Azriel whispered, his voice cracking with anguish. “She’s all alone.”

“And we will get her back,” Rhysand repeated, his grip firm. “You will hold her in your arms again. I swear it.”

Azriel closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep, uneven breaths. The room was heavy with tension, but no one spoke, giving him the space he needed to steady himself.

It took several long moments, but eventually, Azriel straightened, his trembling subsiding slightly, though the anguish in his eyes remained. He looked at Cassian and Morrigan, then at Rhysand, his jaw tight with determination.

“First light,” Azriel said, his voice quiet but resolute. “We leave at first light.”

Rhysand and Cassian each took one of Azriel’s arms, steadying him as he tried to rise from the floor. His legs felt like lead, and his body trembled as though it might give out again, but their grip kept him upright. Azriel’s shadows were still frantically swirling around him, darting into every corner of the room, as if desperate to find Kaia themselves.

As soon as Azriel was on his feet, he turned toward Rhysand, his face tight with a mixture of anguish and barely-contained anger. “How did this happen?” he asked, his voice low and trembling. “How did she even—how did you lose her?”

Rhysand flinched as if the words physically struck him, his violet eyes closing briefly. He let out a deep breath, his face crumpling with guilt. “It’s my fault,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, his hazel eyes narrowing as the weight of Rhysand’s words sank in. “What do you mean, your fault?” he demanded, his tone rising. “She’s a toddler, Rhys. My daughter. She can barely fucking run without landing flat on her ass. How could you—”

“We turned away for a moment,” Rhysand interrupted, his voice strained. “We were talking to a messenger from the camp. The weather was turning, and I thought—” He stopped, raking a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the words. “I told her not to go far, but she slipped away. I didn’t see her. I didn’t—”

Azriel stepped closer, his wings flaring slightly, though not in aggression—only pain. “You didn’t see her?” he repeated, his voice breaking. “You were supposed to be watching her, Rhys. You promised you’d keep her safe.”

Rhysand’s shoulders sagged under the weight of Azriel’s accusations. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I failed. I failed you. I failed her. I—” His voice cracked, and he turned away, his hand gripping the back of a chair as if to steady himself. “I’ve never felt more ashamed in my life.”

Azriel stared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving as he fought to keep his composure. Cassian stepped between them, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “Az,” he said carefully, his voice low and soothing. “Rhys is tearing himself apart over this. We all are. But fighting each other right now isn’t going to bring Kaia back.”

Azriel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his shadows lashing wildly around the room. But after a moment, he exhaled sharply, some of the fire in his eyes dimming as Cassian’s words registered. He turned back to Rhysand, his jaw tight.

“You should have been more careful,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “But I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. I know you love her, too.”

Rhysand looked up, his eyes glistening. “More than anything,” he whispered. “Azriel, I swear on everything I have, I will not rest until she’s back in your arms.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, though his shoulders remained tense. “We leave at dawn,” he said, his voice low and determined. “Every moment we waste, she gets further away. I don’t care about the weather. I don’t care about the risk. We find her.”

“And we will,” Cassian said firmly, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “We’re not stopping until we do.”

Azriel took a shuddering breath, his voice quieter now but no less resolute. “Someone has to go to the Day Court tomorrow. Y/N needs to know.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a thick fog. Azriel’s shadows swirled tighter, curling around his shoulders as though trying to shield him from the unbearable thought of you finding out this way.

Cassian straightened from where he leaned against the table, his expression grim but determined. “I’ll go,” he said without hesitation. “You shouldn’t have to leave Kaia’s search, and... I’ll explain everything to her.”

Azriel nodded slowly, though his jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll tell her everything,” Cassian promised. “But Az... you know what this is going to do to her. To both of you.”

Azriel’s eyes closed briefly, and when they reopened, they were blazing with a mixture of fear and determination. “I know,” he said. “But she deserves to know. If it were me in her place—” His voice broke, and he turned away, his wings drooping as though the weight of his emotions was too much to bear.

Cassian looked over at Rhysand, who gave a faint nod, though his expression was carved from stone. “Be careful with how you tell her,” Rhys said, his voice low and heavy. “This will break her, but she has to know we’re doing everything we can.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath. “I’ll leave at first light,” he said. “She’ll want to come back with me, though.”

Azriel’s head snapped up at that, his hazel eyes wide and pleading. “Cass, please. Don’t bring her back here yet. Not until we’ve found her. She’s been through too much already... if she comes back and Kaia’s still missing—”

“I know,” Cassian interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “I’ll do my best to keep her there. But you know Y/N. If she wants to come, nothing I say will stop her.”

Azriel dropped his head into his hands, his fingers gripping his hair as though trying to keep himself together. “Just try,” he murmured. “For her sake.”

“I will,” Cassian promised.

The three of them exchanged heavy looks, the silence between them filled with unspoken fears. They would face whatever came next together—no matter how painful.

-----

The golden hues of dawn painted the sky in strokes of orange and pink, spilling soft light over the Day Court balcony. You stretched as you stepped out, clutching a warm mug of tea in your hands. Nesta was already seated in a plush chair, her book open on her lap, her eyes scanning the pages with quiet focus. Feyre sat nearby, her sketchpad balanced against her knees, her pencil moving rhythmically across the paper.

The air was cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of citrus and blooming flowers. You settled into a chair beside Nesta, exhaling a soft sigh as you cracked open your own book. “It’s so peaceful here,” you murmured, taking a sip of tea.

Nesta hummed in agreement, not looking up from her book. “I could get used to this,” she said, her tone softer than usual.

Feyre glanced up from her sketchpad, a faint smile on her face. “I think we all could,” she said. “The colours here are so vivid. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of sketching them.”

You glanced at her sketch, admiring the delicate lines she was using to capture the sunrise. “That’s beautiful,” you said. “You’ve really captured the light.”

Feyre blushed lightly but kept working, her pencil shading the edges of a cloud. “It’s easy when the view is this stunning.”

Nesta turned a page in her book, her brow furrowing slightly as she got engrossed in her reading. You noticed the title and arched a brow. “More smut, Nesta?” you teased lightly, earning a sharp glance from her.

“It’s not smut,” she shot back, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s well-written romance. There’s a difference.”

Feyre snorted, her pencil stilling for a moment. “Is there, though?”

Nesta ignored her and went back to reading, though you caught the faintest hint of a smile.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages, the scratch of Feyre’s pencil, and the occasional bird song in the distance. It was a rare moment of tranquility, a sliver of time where the world felt calm and safe.

You glanced at the horizon, watching as the sun climbed higher, bathing the balcony in warmth. “I wish mornings could always be like this,” you said softly.

Nesta nodded absently, her eyes still glued to her book. Feyre gave a small smile but didn’t look up, her focus entirely on her sketch.

You turned a page in your book, glancing at Nesta and Feyre as the sunlight bathed the balcony in a warm glow. A thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but smirk as you broke the peaceful silence.

“Do you two ever just...tug on your bond with your husbands when they’re away? You know, for fun?”

Nesta’s book lowered slightly, her eyes narrowing at you, though there was a flicker of amusement behind them. Feyre paused mid-shade, her pencil hovering over the sketchpad as a sly smile crept onto her face.

“I do,” Feyre admitted, her tone casual. “Sometimes it’s just to check on him. Other times…” She trailed off, her cheeks tinting pink.

Nesta raised an eyebrow but didn’t deny it. “Occasionally,” she said, flipping a page as if the conversation was nothing out of the ordinary. “It’s not like I need to, but if I want to make sure Cassian isn’t being a complete idiot, I might give it a tug.”

You chuckled at her response. “So you’re using it as a leash?”

“More like a tether,” Nesta said dryly, though a small smirk tugged at her lips.

Feyre laughed softly before turning her curious gaze to you. “What about you? Do you and Azriel tug on your bond?”

Your smile faded slightly, and you shook your head. “No, we don’t. We keep it closed most of the time.”

That seemed to catch both of their attention. Nesta set her book down, and Feyre rested her pencil on the edge of the sketchpad, their gazes now focused entirely on you.

“Why?” Feyre asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and staring out at the horizon. “Azriel’s work… it’s dangerous. It’s complicated. He doesn’t want his emotions to bleed through the bond when he’s out doing what he does. And I… I don’t want to distract him. The last thing he needs is to feel my panic if something goes wrong.”

Nesta tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “But doesn’t that make it harder? Keeping it closed?”

“It does sometimes,” you admitted, tracing a finger along the edge of your book. “But we’ve always been like that. He’s so private, so controlled. Keeping the bond closed is his way of protecting me, even if I don’t always agree with it.”

Feyre frowned slightly. “Does he ever let it open? Even for a moment?”

“Rarely,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “But when he does… it’s like the world shifts. Everything feels lighter, stronger. I know how deeply he cares, even if he doesn’t say it outright.”

Nesta hummed, picking up her book again. “Sounds like Azriel.”

Feyre nodded, her expression softening. “He loves you, though. That much is obvious.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I know. And I love him, too. Even if he keeps his walls up, I’ve always found a way through them.”

"Good morning, my darlings," he greeted, his rich, melodic voice carrying a teasing lilt. His sun-kissed skin practically gleamed under the warm light, his golden robes flowing elegantly as he approached.

On the tray were platters of fresh fruit, honey-drenched pastries, thick slices of golden bread, and a teapot that steamed with a fragrant brew. "I thought I’d join my favourite troublemakers for breakfast. You looked like you needed something to recover from last night."

Nesta quirked an eyebrow, lowering her book slightly. “You mean, you’re here to eavesdrop on our morning conversation.”

Helion placed the tray on the small table in front of you, flashing her a dazzling smile. “Can’t I do both? I’m a master of multitasking.”

Feyre let out a soft laugh, setting her sketchpad aside. “You were just jealous we didn’t invite you to drink with us last night, weren’t you?”

Helion placed a hand over his chest as if wounded. “My dearest Feyre, I would have elevated the night to new heights. But alas, you kept me away.” He winked at you. “Likely to protect your darkest secrets from slipping out under the influence.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked. “As if you don’t already know half of them, Helion.”

He grinned, his golden eyes glinting with mischief. “And that is precisely why I make such excellent company. Who else would be able to handle the three of you at once?”

Nesta snorted. “I doubt you could keep up with us.”

Helion sat down gracefully on one of the chairs, leaning back as though he owned the place. He gestured toward the food. “Eat, eat! I insist. I’d hate for my efforts to go unappreciated.”

As you reached for a flaky pastry, you raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t make this, Helion.”

“Semantics, my dear,” he replied smoothly. “It arrived because of me. That’s what counts.”

Feyre poured herself a cup of tea, smiling softly. “Thank you, Helion. Truly.”

He waved a hand, his tone suddenly gentler. “You’re my guests. My family. It’s the least I can do.”

The four of you ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the gentle breeze ruffling the pages of your book and Feyre’s sketchpad. Then, Helion broke the quiet with a dramatic sigh.

“So,” he said, leaning forward with a sly grin, “what scandalous gossip are we indulging in this morning? I do hope it involves someone’s husband.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Of course you’d hope for that.”

Feyre smirked, shooting you a glance. “Actually, we were just discussing bonds and whether or not we tug on them when the guys are away.”

Helion’s eyes gleamed with interest as he turned to you. “And what did you say, my lovely enigma?”

You gave him a dry look. “I said Azriel and I keep our bond closed most of the time.”

Helion leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course. The shadowsinger. Always so mysterious. Though I must admit, I didn’t expect him to lock himself away even from you.”

“It’s complicated,” you replied, sipping your tea.

Helion tilted his head, studying you. “Is it? Or does he simply underestimate how much strength you already have?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow at that, and Feyre tilted her head in agreement, but you didn’t reply, instead focusing on the beautiful view of the Day Court stretching out before you.

Helion smiled knowingly. “Ah, silence. The loudest answer of all.” He reached for a piece of fruit, his golden eyes flicking between the three of you. “Well, I, for one, am honoured to bask in your company this morning. Even if I have to endure the heavy presence of shadows in the conversation.”

Feyre chuckled. “You’re insufferable, Helion.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied with a wink.

The peaceful hum of your morning on the Day Court balcony was abruptly interrupted by the heavy thud of wings beating against the warm air. All of you looked up in surprise as Cassian landed on the edge of the balcony, his armour glinting faintly in the sunlight. His hair was windswept, his face drawn with tension, and his usual boisterous grin was absent.

“Cassian?” Nesta said, rising to her feet as he stepped forward.

Without a word, he cupped her face, pulling her in for a quick, fierce kiss. Nesta stiffened in shock before relaxing slightly, her hand brushing his chest in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling back to search his face.

Cassian didn’t answer immediately, his hazel eyes darting to you. His expression softened with something you couldn’t quite place—remorse, fear, maybe both. He turned to you, taking a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and unsteady.

You frowned, setting your book down. “Sorry for what?”

Feyre, seated beside you, blinked in confusion. “Cassian, what’s going on?”

Helion leaned back in his chair, his golden gaze narrowing as he studied the Illyrian general. “This feels suspiciously like the beginning of bad news,” he drawled, though his tone lacked its usual levity.

Cassian ignored him, his eyes locking with yours. “I—I don’t know how to tell you this,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

Your stomach twisted uneasily. “Cassian, just say it. What’s wrong?”

Nesta’s hand tightened on his arm. “Cassian, you’re scaring us.”

He ran a hand through his windswept hair, his wings twitching behind him. “There’s been... an incident. Kaia—”

Your breath hitched, your heart slamming against your ribs. “What about Kaia? Where is she?”

Cassian’s face crumpled slightly as he struggled to find the words. “She’s... she’s missing.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath you, the weight of his words crashing into you like a tidal wave. Feyre gasped beside you, her hand flying to her mouth, while Nesta froze, her eyes wide with shock.

“What do you mean she’s missing?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling.

Cassian reached out, his hands shaking as he gestured toward you. “Rhys, Azriel, and I—we’ve been looking for hours. She wandered off during a trip outside, and we couldn’t—” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry. We’re doing everything we can to find her.”

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as your mind raced. “She’s out there in mountain weather?” Your voice rose, panic thickening every syllable.

Feyre grabbed your arm, trying to steady you as Nesta stepped closer to Cassian, her face pale with fury. “How could this happen?” she hissed.

Cassian didn’t flinch under her anger, his guilt evident in every line of his face. “We didn’t mean for it to. One second she was there, and the next—”

You didn’t wait to hear more. Your bond with Azriel, always kept tightly shut, pulsed faintly at the edges of your mind, and you reached for it instinctively, your panic bleeding into the connection.

Helion stood as well, his usual calm demeanour replaced by a grave expression. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly, though his words did little to calm the storm brewing inside you.

“She’s out there,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears blurred your vision. “My baby is out there.”

The world spun around you, and a sharp, nauseating wave of panic swept over you like a tidal wave. Your breath caught in your chest, and your stomach churned violently. The last few minutes felt like they were moving in slow motion—Cassian’s words, the overwhelming realization of what had happened, the shock that froze you in place.

“I—I’m going to throw up,” you muttered, barely able to form the words, your hand clutching at your stomach. The feeling was suffocating, and before anyone could react, your body lurched forward.

You barely had time to brace yourself as your stomach emptied, the contents spilling out onto the floor in front of you. The gagging sound seemed to echo in the room, your vision blurred with tears of frustration, fear, and helplessness.

Nesta cursed under her breath, rushing to your side. “Y/N, breathe,” she urged, kneeling beside you. She gently rubbed your back as Feyre stood frozen, her own face pale, her hands clenched at her sides.

You gasped for air, still fighting the urge to be sick, but the panic was unbearable. “Kaia,” you whispered, your voice broken and weak. “She’s out there. She’s all alone.”

Cassian’s face was stricken with guilt, his hand reaching out but stopping short. He didn’t know how to fix this. None of them did.

“Y/N, you have to stay calm,” Nesta said, her tone firm but caring. She didn’t pull away as she continued to soothe you, though you could hear the tightness in her voice, the same fear you felt.

But it was too much. The weight of it all—the danger Kaia was in, the impossibility of the situation, the sheer overwhelming terror of losing her—was crushing you from every side. You could feel it suffocating you.

“I can’t… I can’t lose her,” you choked out between ragged breaths. “I can’t.”

Your body trembled, still caught in the aftermath of the sickness, but your mind was clearer now, focused entirely on one thing: getting to Kaia.

“Cassian…” Your voice was low, almost desperate as you looked up at him, your hands reaching out toward him. “Please. I need to go to her. Bring me to her.”

Cassian hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to the others in the room, but he remained firm in his response. “Azriel said you need to stay here, Y/N. You’re in no condition to travel. You’re still… you’re still not yourself.” His voice was gentle, but the firmness in it was unyielding.

You clenched your fists, frustration and worry bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care what Azriel said. I need to go, Cassian. She’s my daughter, and I—” You cut yourself off, choking on your words, your breath ragged as the weight of helplessness settled on you once again.

Cassian’s jaw tightened, clearly torn between your pain and his loyalty to Azriel’s wishes. “I know you want to be there for her, but we need you to stay calm. We’ll find her, I promise.” His voice softened, though the unsaid words hung in the air between you both. He couldn’t bear to see you suffer like this, but he was equally unwilling to go against Azriel’s wishes, especially given the state you were in.

“You can’t promise that, Cassian,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “I have to go. I need to see her.”

The words hung heavy in the room, and for a moment, the only sound was the thrum of your pulse, the pain in your chest. Cassian stood still, staring at you with sympathy, but his resolve remained.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But for now, Azriel’s decision stands.”

You felt the frustration and helplessness bubbling inside you, finally boiling over in a burst of raw emotion. Without thinking, you screamed at Cassian, the force of your voice nearly knocking you back.

“How dare you?!” Your words were sharp and full of pain, your body trembling as you stood, your fists clenched at your sides. “How dare you keep me from my daughter? I’m her mother! You don’t get to tell me I can’t go to her, Cassian!”

The words sliced through the air, filled with all the worry and fear that had been tormenting you since the moment Kaia went missing.

You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of your emotions, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you were yelling, that your voice was breaking. All that mattered was that you needed to see Kaia.

“I need to go to her!” you shouted, your voice cracking with the weight of your own helplessness. "I don't care what Azriel said! I am her mother, and I will not stay here while she's out there alone!"

Cassian’s face paled, and for a moment, you could see the weight of your words hit him. He flinched at the force of your anger, but his expression was filled with the same sorrow he had when he tried to hold you back.

“Y/N, I know you're hurting—” he began, but you cut him off, the pain driving you to keep pushing, keep screaming.

“No! You don’t know!” you yelled, voice rising again. “You don’t know what this feels like! You have no idea what it’s like to be so close, but still feel like you're losing everything, again. FOR THE SECOND TIME IN MY LIFE! You don’t get to make this decision for me!”

You didn’t know where the strength to scream came from, but you felt like you might collapse after releasing it all.

Cassian’s face softened, and he took a step toward you, his own frustration and sorrow evident. “I’m trying to protect you, Y/N. Azriel’s trying to protect you. We’re all trying to make sure you’re okay.”

But you were done listening to him. You shook your head, wiping at the tears that had fallen without your consent, and you stepped back.

“I’ll find her myself if I have to,” you spat, your voice low and dangerous now, the anger still buzzing in your veins. You knew you couldn’t—knew you’d never leave without their help—but the desperation in your words was undeniable.

Cassian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. But I can’t let you go right now.” His voice was quiet, filled with the weight of his own guilt.

You glared at Cassian, your body still trembling from the intensity of the emotions you’d just unleashed. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was an edge of frustration too. How could they forget? How could they forget who you were, who your family was?

You stepped closer to him, your voice low but seething with sharpness. “You and Azriel are so stupid,” you bit out, your words slicing through the air. “Did you really forget that I’m royalty? That I can winnow wherever I want?”

Cassian’s eyes widened in surprise, the realization dawning on him, but it didn’t stop the irritation that continued to rise in you.

“I don’t need permission from anyone,” you continued, your voice growing louder, filled with the weight of your frustration. “I’ve been through more than you’ll ever understand, and you both are sitting here acting like I’m helpless. I’m not.”

Your heart raced, the anger and panic swirling together as you took another step closer. “I’ve lived for centuries. I’ve faced things that you can’t even imagine, and you still forget who I am.”

Cassian stood frozen, and for a brief moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. But you couldn’t hold back anymore. The emotions, the stress, the overwhelming need to find Kaia—they all surged to the surface.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you hissed, each word filled with a raw power. “I’ll find my daughter myself.”

With that, you focused, your power thrumming beneath your skin. In a heartbeat, you winnowed out of the room, leaving Cassian standing there, his face stricken with shock.

You were done waiting. You were going to find Kaia. And nothing was going to stop you.

-----

You landed on the icy ground outside the cabin, your power swirling around you like a storm. Snow whipped through the air, the biting cold doing nothing to quell the fury blazing in your chest. You didn’t wait for an invitation. You pushed the door open, the warmth of the cabin contrasting violently with the icy wrath in your veins.

Rhysand was in the middle of the room, his hands braced on the edge of the dining table, his shoulders slumped in a way you rarely ever saw. At the sound of your arrival, his head snapped up, and his face paled as he saw the fire in your eyes.

“YN—” he started, his voice soft and broken.

“Don’t,” you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. “Don’t you dare try to explain this away, Rhysand.” You stalked toward him, each step heavy with the weight of your fury.

He held up his hands, his expression pained. “I know, I—”

“You let this happen!” you shouted, cutting him off. “How could you, Rhys? She’s my daughter!”

Rhys’s shoulders sagged further, his violet eyes shining with guilt. “It’s my fault,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I should’ve been watching her more closely. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight.”

The admission only fuelled your anger further. “You’re damn right it’s your fault!” you yelled, your voice echoing off the wooden walls of the cabin. “You, of all people, Rhys! You were supposed to protect her! And instead, you let her out of your sight? You let her disappear?”

Rhys flinched as though you’d struck him, but you didn’t stop. The pain and anger pouring out of you were unstoppable.

“And then,” you continued, your voice shaking with emotion, “you let Azriel tell me to stay behind? You let him keep this from me, let me sit there while my daughter—” Your voice broke, tears blurring your vision as you struggled to find the words.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” Rhys said, his own voice raw. “I thought if you came back, it would only make things worse. I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?” you cut in sharply. “To do exactly what I’m doing now? To fight for my daughter?”

“I didn’t want you to break,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

Your chest heaved, the pain in his words digging into your heart, but you couldn’t let go of your anger. “You think I haven’t already broken?” you demanded, your voice cracking. “You think I could sit there and not know? Not fight for her? She’s my daughter, Rhys. My world. And you—”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook your head, taking a step back from him. “You failed her, and you failed me.”

Rhys looked devastated, his usually calm demeanour completely shattered. He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his dark hair. “I know,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I know I failed you. I failed Kaia. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right.”

But his words weren’t enough. They couldn’t undo the hours Kaia had been missing, the fear clawing at your chest, or the image of your baby girl out there in the cold.

You turned away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as the tears came harder now, the anger giving way to despair. “I’m her mother,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve been the one to protect her.”

“You will,” he said softly. “We will. I swear to you, Y/N, we will bring her home.”

Rhys gently reached out, his hand brushing your shoulder as he tried to draw you closer, but you resisted. The sobs wracking your body were almost too much, your anger still boiling over despite the tears streaming down your face.

“Don’t—don’t touch me!” you choked out, but he ignored your words, pulling you into his chest.

“Let it out, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft and pained. “Just let it out.”

The dam broke as soon as you felt his arms wrap around you. Your fists came up, weak and sloppy, as you hit his chest over and over again. “How—could—you—let—this—happen?” you cried, punctuating each word with another hit.

Rhys didn’t flinch, didn’t move to stop you. He just stood there, holding you close, letting you take out every ounce of anger and heartbreak on him.

“I trusted you,” you sobbed, your punches losing strength as you buried your face against him. “She’s—she’s my baby, Rhys. She’s my baby…”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking, his hand smoothing over your hair as he held you tightly. “I know, YN. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You clung to him now, your fists balled in his shirt as you sobbed uncontrollably. The room felt smaller, heavier, as the weight of your anguish filled the space.

Rhys just held you, his own tears slipping down his cheeks as he whispered apologies, his heart breaking alongside yours. “We’ll find her,” he said again, though his voice was hoarse and strained. “I swear to you, we’ll find her.”

But his promises felt hollow, the fear and pain overwhelming every other thought in your mind. You could only cry, clinging to your brother, desperate for the nightmare to end.

The door swung open with a gust of icy air as Azriel stepped inside, brushing snow from his shoulders. His hair was damp from the storm, his face etched with exhaustion and anguish. But the second his eyes landed on you standing there, dishevelled and tear-streaked in the middle of the room, his expression froze in shock.

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice rasping with disbelief. "What are you doing here? I told Cassian to—"

"Don’t even start fucking with me right now," you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury as you pulled away from Rhys. Your fists were clenched at your sides, your body taut with barely restrained emotion. “You told Cassian? You told Cassian? Azriel, my daughter is missing, and you thought you could order me to stay put like I’m some helpless bystander?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting between you and Rhysand in the room. “I didn’t want you in danger,” he said, his tone low but defensive. “The storm—”

“The storm?” you snapped, stepping closer, your voice rising with every word. “I am her mother, Azriel! Do you think for one second that I would let a little snow stop me from trying to find her? You had no right to keep this from me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” he countered, his own voice rising now. His shadows curled around him, restless and agitated. “You don’t understand how dangerous this is, YN! You didn’t see what we found out there—”

“And whose fault is that?” you shouted, your hands trembling. “You left me in the dark, Azriel! You left me behind when I should’ve been here, with her, with you!”

Azriel took a step closer, his face contorted with pain. “I didn’t want you to go through this. Not again.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, the weight of them sinking into your chest. “Do you think I’m not already going through it?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Every second she’s out there, I’m dying inside. You should’ve trusted me, Azriel. You should’ve told me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by your ragged breathing and the distant howl of the wind outside. Azriel looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I didn’t want to lose you too,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Your fury wavered for a moment, replaced by the raw ache in his words. But the pain of Kaia’s absence burned brighter, and you shook your head, stepping back. “This isn’t about me, Azriel. This is about her. And we are wasting time.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged, his shadows wrapping tightly around him as if to shield him from the weight of your words. “You’re right,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “You’re right.”

Azriel flinched as if you had physically struck him, his shadows recoiling and tightening around him. His eyes, which usually held warmth and steadiness, now mirrored the brokenness in his soul. You stood in the middle of the room, trembling with fury and heartbreak, your voice sharp enough to cut through steel.

“After everything we’ve been through, Azriel,” you began, your tone low but seething, “after all these centuries, I never thought I could look at you and feel this... this rage. This disappointment.”

“Y/N, please,” he started, his voice cracking as he stepped toward you, his hand half-reaching. But you took a step back, holding your ground.

“No!” you shouted, your voice shaking the room as much as your hands were. “You don’t get to plead with me. Not after what you’ve done. You made a decision for me, for us, without even giving me the chance to fight for her. Do you know how that feels, Azriel? Do you know what it’s like to feel useless when your child—our child—is out there, scared and alone?”

“I was trying to protect you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roaring fire in the hearth. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you going through this—”

“You didn’t protect me, Azriel,” you hissed, tears streaking down your face. “You betrayed me. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I couldn’t handle the weight of this, when all I wanted was to be by your side. And now? Now I don’t even know if I can look at you without—”

You choked on the words, your throat tightening. But you forced them out, every syllable laced with venom and heartbreak. “I’ve never been so disappointed in my mate before. I didn’t even think it was possible, but you’ve proven me wrong. You’ve hurt me in a way I didn’t think you ever could, and I—”

You paused, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I think I hate you for it.”

Azriel froze, his entire body stiffening as your words sank in. His shadows stilled, no longer flickering with life but curling around his boots as if in mourning. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The silence was deafening, the air between you thick with pain and regret. Finally, he whispered, “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You let out a hollow laugh, wiping angrily at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “You can start by finding our daughter, Azriel. Because if you don’t…” You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence.

Without another word, you turned away from him, your heart shattering into a thousand pieces as you left him standing there, broken and alone.

You stormed toward the door, grabbing the first coat you saw on the rack. Your movements were quick and fuelled by pure adrenaline, your mind racing with thoughts of Kaia out there somewhere—scared, cold, and alone. As your fingers fumbled with the buttons, a shadow darted in front of you, blocking the doorway.

“YN, stop,” Rhysand said, his voice steady but laced with desperation. His hand was outstretched, palm up, as if he were trying to calm a feral beast. “You can’t go out there. Not in this storm. It’s too dangerous.”

You turned on him, your eyes blazing with fury. “Move, Rhys. I’m not asking.”

Before he could respond, Azriel appeared beside him, his shadows curling protectively around his frame. His face was pale, and his golden eyes were glassy with guilt and pain. “Please, don’t do this,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “It’s too dangerous out there. I can’t lose you too.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” you snapped, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Neither of you do. My daughter is out there, Azriel. Our daughter. And I won’t sit here another second while she’s alone in the cold.”

“I understand how you feel—” Rhys began, but you cut him off with a sharp laugh, bitter and raw.

“You understand?” you spat, stepping closer to him. “Your son is safe, warm, and alive, Rhys. Don’t you dare tell me you understand what this feels like. Don’t you dare.”

Rhysand flinched, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Azriel stepped forward, his voice breaking as he said, “YN, please. I’ll go back out. I’ll search all night if I have to. But you can’t do this. I need you to be safe.”

“You need me to be safe?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Where was that concern when you decided to keep me in the dark? Where was that when you made me stay behind like I’m some fragile porcelain doll? You don’t get to need me now, Azriel. Not after everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn’t move out of your way. Neither of them did.

“Move,” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“No,” Azriel said, his voice firm but trembling at the edges. “I won’t let you.”

The room seemed to shrink around you as you stared at him, your chest heaving with anger and despair. “Then you’ll have to stop me,” you said coldly, stepping forward.

Rhysand’s magic flickered in the air, subtle but ready, and Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter. But neither of them moved.

“You can try to stop me,” you said, your voice low and dangerous, “but you won’t win. Not this time.”

For a moment, all three of you were frozen in a tense standoff, the howling wind outside the only sound. Finally, Rhysand stepped aside, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Azriel hesitated, his hand twitching at his side, but he eventually followed suit, his shadows retreating as his eyes filled with anguish.

Without another glance, you threw the coat over your shoulders, opened the door, and stepped out into the icy storm.

Part 4

[milkteabinniechan]

Thoughts on Chan going to see his physical therapist and his regular old guy therapist has a thing scheduled so he sends a replacement - a hot, young and capable replacement, and Chan finds himself popping a boner while the PT is pretzeling him, causing him temporary extreme pain and lasting pain relief right after? Assuming this new therapist is also vulnerable to Chan's charms, even if they aren't a Stay (yet).

Oh sweet lord I LOVE THIS IDEAAAAAA.

a/n: cliffhanger because this will definitely be a full story soon 🫡

MINORS DNI

PART TWO IS HERE

just relax - chan

Chan headed to his usual room. He made himself comfortable on the padded folding bed when he heard the door open.

"You won't believe the stupid thing I did, Doc. I was tryi-..." Chan's words lingered in his mouth.

You walked in with pink scrubs and a bright smile. Your dark hair tied loosely in a bun with small strands of hair falling lazily around your round cheeks. You weren't Chan's regular guy. He had never seen you before. You were... hot.

"Wh-Where's Dr. Weston?" Chan's voice was hoarse in his throat.

You gave a sympathetic smile. "He had a family emergency, so I'm covering all his patients. Shall we get started?"

You set your clipboard down and made your way to Chan who had changed his seating to an upright and respectful position. His heart was pounding through his ears like kettle drums. You cocked your head and gave him a curious look. You asked him to show you where it hurt. Your voice was soft.

"H-here." Chan motioned to his shoulder and hip.

You scanned his entire body and slowly ran your hands from the top of his shoulder down to his wrist. You searched his face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

"How does that feel?" You rubbed deep into his collar bone. Your fingers applying small amounts of pressure to where the muscle felt tightest.

Chan pressed his lips together into a thin line. He held his breath and nodded his head. Not exactly an answer, but the pain was beginning to prove to be more than he expected. You lifted your hands and instructed him to lay down. You wait for him to lay flat on his back. You ask him how his day has been and if he has plans later, while you lift his leg and bend it up towards his chest.

Chan watched as you lay your body on top of his bent leg, adding pressure to the stretch. Lightning bolts of pain shot up from his hip and screamed into the neurons of his brain. Nerve ends were desperately pleading for the stretch to stop but when Chan made eye contact with you, something else happened.

The longer Chan stared into your eyes, the more his cock began to grow. Just a twitch at first. But then you pushed deeper into him. The table creaked as you applied more of your weight onto Chan's bent leg. The pain was giving way to pleasure, a new pleasure, that his thin gym shorts were not going to be able to cover.

The outline of the tip of his cock was glaringly obvious as Chan's ears burned crimson red. Please don't look down, please don't look down. Chan kept repeating in his head. You grunted in frustration as you turned your head back towards his feet to see if you could get a better angle.

"Let's try the other leg." You layed Chan's leg down softly on the padded table and began to reach for the other leg when your eyes caught site of the growing appendage laying in front of you.

You looked up at Chan who had his face covered with both hands.

[marysfics]

Alone Isn't So Alone When It's With You

You’ve always been alone. But will she be the one to change that?

Word count: 7.2k

Angst, Fluff

This fic has a happy ending.

The dim buzz of fluorescent lights hummed overhead as the school library settled into its usual after-school quiet. You sat at one of the long oak tables, nervously tapping your pen against your notebook. College had been lonely so far. Seventeen was supposed to be exciting, filled with memories and friends. Instead, you had spent most of your time wandering the halls, watching everyone else settle into their cliques.

That was until Alexia.

She had appeared like a lightning bolt in a storm—unexpected but electrifying. You had met only two weeks ago, partnered up for a last-minute group project in history class. While others had rolled their eyes at the assignment, Alexia had offered you an easygoing grin, her golden-brown hair tied back in a messy bun. Something about her presence—calm but undeniably confident—made you feel at ease in a way no one else had.

And now, there she was, walking into the library like she owned the place. Her backpack slung over one shoulder, wearing a hoodie that looked a size too big, Alexia spotted you immediately and strode over with the kind of effortless swagger that made heads turn.

“Hola,” she greeted, sliding into the seat across from you. “Finished your part of the project?”

You nodded, holding up your notes as evidence. “Barely,” you admitted. “You?”

Alexia smirked, pulling out her own stack of neatly written notes. “Always,” she teased. Her accent was warm and melodic, making even her jokes feel like honey dripping off her tongue.

But today, there was something different about her. The light in her hazel eyes flickered with a strange mix of excitement and something you couldn’t quite place—maybe sadness?

“You okay?” you asked cautiously.

Alexia hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” She glanced around the quiet library, as though checking to make sure no one else was listening. Then, leaning closer, she said, “It’s my last week here.”

Your heart sank. “What? Why?”

“I got accepted into La Masia,” she explained softly. “The football academy.”

You blinked at her, stunned. Of course you knew she played football—she was always kicking a ball around during breaks, her movements precise and graceful. But you hadn’t realized it was serious enough to whisk her away.

“That’s amazing,” you said, forcing a smile. “Really, Alexia. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she said, her grin small but genuine. “It’s a dream come true. But…” She trailed off, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t expect it to be so hard to leave. Especially now.”

The weight of her words settled heavily between you. Especially now. Was she talking about…you?

You swallowed hard, unsure what to say. You had spent so long wishing for a friend, and now that you’d finally found one, she was leaving.

“I’m glad I met you,” Alexia said suddenly, her voice softer now. “Even if it was only for a little while. You’re…special, you know? You make people feel like they belong.”

Your cheeks warmed at her words, and you ducked your head to hide your blush. “I—I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Alexia insisted. Her eyes met yours, steady and sure. “I mean it.”

For a moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you, sitting in that quiet library. You didn’t know what to say, but maybe words weren’t necessary. Maybe this connection—brief and bittersweet—was enough.

“Can we still keep in touch?” you asked finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia’s grin returned, brighter now. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed her.

The weeks after Alexia’s announcement were a blur of conflicting emotions. You tried your best to focus on school, to savor the limited time you had left with her. But as her departure loomed closer, every moment felt like sand slipping through your fingers. You wanted more time, more memories, more of her.

So, you started inviting her over whenever you could, hoping for a few extra hours to solidify the fragile bond you had built. But Alexia was busier than ever—training, packing, preparing for the move. Most of your invitations were met with apologetic texts that always ended in Lo siento, next time, okay?

Until one afternoon, when she finally said yes.

It was a rare quiet day at your house. Your parents were out of town for a business trip, leaving you with the freedom to have Alexia over without prying eyes or the usual awkward explanations. You had cleaned the living room three times and made sure to hide any embarrassing childhood photos before she arrived.

When the doorbell rang, your heart jumped into your throat. You practically sprinted to the door, flinging it open to see Alexia standing there with her trademark smile, her backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, stepping inside. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Thanks for actually coming,” you teased, closing the door behind her.

She laughed, and it was the kind of sound that made your chest feel warm. “I told you I’d make time eventually.”

You led her to the living room, where you’d set up a couple of snacks and some board games you weren’t sure she’d even like. Alexia looked around, her eyes taking in the space with a casual curiosity.

“This is nice,” she said, sitting down on the couch. “Way better than my house. My sister is always so messy with her stuff across the house.”

You smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Well, make yourself at home. Want something to drink? Water? Juice?”

“Water’s good,” she said, leaning back against the cushions.

You nodded and made your way to the kitchen, determined to keep things simple and normal. But as you opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water, your stomach sank. The shelves were stocked with your parents’ collection of wine bottles, beer cans, and liquor. They always kept the fridge stocked when they traveled, as if daring you to throw a party in their absence. You weren’t about to take the bait, but now you had a new problem: Alexia.

You tried to quickly grab the water and close the door, but her voice stopped you.

“Wow,” she said, peering over your shoulder. “Your parents stock up, huh?”

You froze, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. They like to…keep options. For guests.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but amused. “Uh-huh. Guests.”

She leaned casually against the counter, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “So…is this where the wild parties happen?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “Hardly. I think the wildest thing I’ve done is drink two sodas in one night.”

Alexia chuckled, her laughter filling the room. “I believe that.”

You handed her the water bottle, avoiding her gaze. “Sorry. It’s not like I asked them to stock the bar before leaving.”

She unscrewed the cap and took a sip, her smirk softening into a grin. “Relax, it’s not a big deal. Honestly, it’s kind of funny. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Her tone was so casual and warm that you couldn’t help but feel your shoulders relax. “Okay,” you said, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

The days blurred together after that afternoon with Alexia. You told yourself it was fine—she was busy, after all. Training at La Masia was no small thing, and you knew it meant everything to her. Still, the days felt quieter without her texts or her easy laughter filling the gaps in your life.

At first, you tried to keep the connection alive. You’d send messages when you had something funny or interesting to share, or just to check in. Sometimes, she’d reply quickly, her responses filled with exclamation points and emojis that reminded you of how easy things had been. Other times, hours—or even days—would pass before you got a short, almost obligatory reply.

The excuses started piling up: Sorry, training was crazy today. Exams are killing me. Coach has us on a new schedule—barely have time to sleep. You believed her, but with every message, the space between you seemed to stretch farther and farther.

Eventually, you stopped trying so hard.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, really. One day, you realized you couldn’t remember the last time Alexia had reached out first. The texts you hadn’t sent piled up in your drafts—half-written messages that felt too heavy or too trivial to send.

And then there was home. Your parents’ constant bickering, the weight of their expectations, and the unspoken tension that seemed to fill every corner of the house. You had enough on your plate without worrying about someone who clearly didn’t have the same space for you in their life anymore.

But letting go wasn’t as clean or easy as you hoped. You couldn’t help but wonder if you had done something wrong, if you had misread the connection you thought you shared. There was an ache deep in your chest every time you saw her Instagram stories—photos of her on the field, laughing with her new teammates, the world moving forward without you in it.

She didn’t seem to notice the growing silence. Or maybe she noticed and didn’t care. That thought hurt most of all.

You wanted to be happy for her. You really did. But a small, selfish part of you wished she’d reached out, asked if you were okay, told you she missed you. Instead, she seemed to have slipped effortlessly into her new life, while you were left behind, stuck in the same old routines, carrying the weight of something you couldn’t even name.

One night, as you stared at the ceiling in your room, the realization hit you like a tidal wave: you were holding on to something you couldn’t hold on to anymore. Alexia had moved on, and you needed to do the same.

So, you let the messages go unsent. You stopped refreshing her social media, stopped waiting for replies that never came. You poured yourself into school, into surviving the chaos at home, into anything that didn’t remind you of her.

It hurt, but slowly, the pain dulled. The memories of her became like faded photographs—still there, still cherished, but no longer sharp enough to cut.

Alexia never reached out again. And maybe that was the clearest answer of all.

The years that followed college were unremarkable, a quiet blur of routines and responsibilities. You graduated on your own, without the fanfare of parties or friends to share the moment with. The job you landed afterward was decent—enough to keep you afloat, enough to keep you busy.

Your days became a predictable rhythm: work, home, occasional trips to the grocery store, repeat. You rented a small but comfortable place, carefully decorating it to reflect the calm you craved. You made one rule for yourself: no alcohol in the house. The memories of your parents’ fridge, always brimming with booze, still lingered too vividly. The smell, the clink of bottles—it was enough to pull you back to a time and place you’d rather leave behind.

You didn’t mind the solitude most days. Loneliness had become a familiar companion, one you’d learned to coexist with. But sometimes, in the quiet of the evening, as you sat alone on your couch with the TV playing softly in the background, you’d wonder if this was all life had to offer.

It was on one of those evenings—a random Tuesday, nothing special—when your phone buzzed. You almost ignored it, assuming it was just another notification from work or a spam message. But something about the name on the screen made your heart stop.

Alexia.

Your chest tightened as you stared at the screen, the message previewing beneath her name.

Hey... It's been a while, huh?

You sat frozen for a moment, the past rushing back in a flood of memories. Her laugh, her smile, the afternoons you spent together, and the slow unraveling of your connection. You hadn’t heard from her in years—not since she had left for La Masia and, eventually, the world of professional football. You had done your best to forget, to move on, but here she was again, as if no time had passed at all.

With trembling fingers, you opened the message.

Hey... It's been a while, huh? I know this is out of the blue, but I was thinking about you. I don’t know if this is still your number, but if it is… I’d really love to catch up.

Your heart pounded as you read the words over and over, trying to make sense of them. Why now? What did she want? And did you even want to respond?

You glanced around your apartment, your safe, solitary space. The idea of opening that door—of letting Alexia back in after so long—was both thrilling and terrifying. But as you stared at her message, a small part of you, the part that had never truly let her go, whispered: What if?

You took a deep breath and started typing.

It is still my number. I didn’t think I’d hear from you again. What’s up?

You hit send before you could overthink it, your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for her reply. It came almost instantly.

Wow, I’m so glad you responded. I’m back in town for a while, and I’d love to see you if you’re up for it.

The years of distance, of silence, felt impossibly heavy. You didn’t know what seeing her would bring—closure, pain, or something else entirely. But as you stared at her message, you realized you wanted to find out.

Okay, you replied, the word small but full of meaning. When and where?

The day you were supposed to meet Alexia, your nerves were shot. She had picked a neutral spot—a quiet café in the city center, somewhere close enough to be familiar but far enough to avoid the ghosts of old memories. You didn’t know what to expect. Would she be the same Alexia you once knew, or someone entirely different? Would she even recognize the person you’d become?

You arrived ten minutes early, partly out of habit and partly because you didn’t want her to be the one waiting. The café was cozy, with soft lighting and the faint hum of chatter filling the air. You chose a table near the window, giving you a clear view of the street outside.

Your coffee sat untouched in front of you as you fidgeted with the edges of your sleeve. You wondered if you were making a mistake, if meeting her after all these years would only stir up feelings you’d worked so hard to bury. But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open.

And there she was.

Alexia stepped inside, her presence as magnetic as ever. She looked different—older, more polished, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. But the warmth in her eyes, the way her gaze lit up when she spotted you—that was the same.

You stood awkwardly as she made her way over, her grin widening with every step. “Hola,” she said, her voice carrying that same familiar lilt that once felt like home.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice smaller than you intended.

She hugged you without hesitation, and for a moment, you froze, unsure how to react. But then you relaxed into it, the scent of her perfume and the strength of her embrace pulling you back to a time when things felt simpler.

When she pulled away, she smiled again, softer this time. “You look good.”

“You too,” you said, your cheeks warming under her gaze.

She gestured to the table. “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” you said, sitting back down as she took the chair across from you.

The first few moments were tentative, filled with polite small talk—how was work, how was the city treating you, the usual questions people ask when trying to bridge years of silence. But soon, the barriers began to crumble, and the conversation turned deeper.

She told you about her life, about the whirlwind of her career—the highs, the pressures, the moments of doubt. “It’s amazing,” she said, stirring her coffee absently. “But sometimes it feels…lonely, you know?”

You nodded, surprised by her candor. “I get that,” you said. “Life’s…quiet for me. Different kind of lonely, I guess.”

She looked at you then, her eyes searching. “I always wondered about you,” she said softly. “How you were doing. If you were okay.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. “I managed,” you said, avoiding her gaze. “It wasn’t easy, but…yeah. I’m okay.”

She hesitated, then reached across the table, her fingers brushing yours. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with regret. “For losing touch. For not being there.”

You stared at her hand, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, sadness, and something else you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t blame you,” you said after a moment. “You were chasing your dream. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Alexia shook her head. “But I could’ve tried harder. I should’ve.” Her grip on your hand tightened, as if afraid you might slip away again. “I missed you. More than I realized until recently.”

Your heart ached at her words, the sincerity in her voice pulling at old wounds you thought had healed. “Why now?” you asked quietly. “Why reach out after all this time?”

She looked down, her thumb tracing circles on the table. “Because I’ve been thinking about what really matters. And you…you were always someone who mattered to me. I didn’t want to let more time slip away.”

For a long moment, you didn’t say anything, the weight of her words settling between you. You had spent so long convincing yourself that she didn’t care, that you were just a forgotten chapter in her story. But now, sitting across from her, feeling the warmth of her hand in yours, you weren’t so sure anymore.

“I don’t know if we can just pick up where we left off,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you.

Alexia nodded, her gaze steady. “I’m not asking for that. I just…want a chance to try. To be in your life again, however you’ll let me.”

You looked at her then, really looked at her. The determination in her eyes, the vulnerability in her posture—it was enough to make you believe she meant it.

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “We can try.”

Her smile lit up the room, and for the first time in years, you felt something stir in your chest.

Hope.

It wasn’t easy, letting Alexia back into your life. She had built something beautiful—a world filled with friends, teammates who felt like family, and stories about ex-girlfriends that she shared with casual ease. It wasn’t that she flaunted it; it was just her life, a life that felt so much bigger than yours.

Meanwhile, you still lived alone in your small apartment, your days consumed by work and routines. The contrast between her vibrant world and your quiet existence made your insecurities bubble to the surface. But you didn’t want her to know. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you were content with what you had.

But sometimes, like tonight, it was hard to keep that mask in place.

Alexia was coming over for dinner—a small step in rekindling whatever it was you two had once shared. You had spent the entire day cleaning your apartment, making sure everything looked just right. The table was set simply but neatly, the air filled with the aroma of the pasta dish you’d spent way too long perfecting for her.

When she arrived, she greeted you with a smile that made your chest ache, a bottle of olive oil tucked under one arm and a small loaf of bread in the other. “For the chef,” she said with a grin, handing them to you as she stepped inside.

Dinner started out light and easy. You talked about work, about her training schedule, about funny little things that had happened in your day. But as the evening wore on, the gap between your lives felt harder to ignore. She shared stories about her teammates, their wild nights out, and a recent trip to Ibiza with friends. You laughed in all the right places, but a small voice in the back of your mind whispered, What do I have to share?

After dinner, you cleared the table and asked, “What do you want to drink? I have water, juice, maybe some soda?”

Alexia leaned back in her chair, her expression playful. “It’s my cheat day,” she said. “Got any wine?”

Your stomach dropped. Of course she’d want wine. It was normal. Expected. But you didn’t have any—not even a stray beer tucked away in the back of the fridge.

You shook your head, trying to keep your tone light. “I don’t keep alcohol at home.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, her teasing grin still in place. “What, afraid you’ll get too wild? One glass of wine and start dancing on the table?”

Her joke was harmless, but something in your face must have changed, because her smile faded. “Hey,” she said softly. “I was just kidding. What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, gripping the edge of the counter. The words felt heavy, but there was no use hiding now. “I just…I don’t want to end up like my parents,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “The fridge was always full of booze when I was a kid. It was like…it was more important than anything else. I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen to me.”

Alexia’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then she stood and crossed the small kitchen, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “I didn’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off. “I mean, I can go grab some wine from the store if you want. It’s not like I have a problem being around it or anything. I just don’t keep it here.”

She shook her head. “No, no way. I’m not going to make you uncomfortable in your own home.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you insisted, but Alexia gave you a look that stopped you in your tracks.

“It is a big deal,” she said firmly. “You’re setting boundaries for yourself, and that’s something I respect. I don’t need wine to have a good time. I came here to spend time with you, not to drink.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was nod.

She smiled then, a small, reassuring curve of her lips. “You’re doing great,” she said, her voice warm. “And I’m glad you told me. Really.”

The tension in your chest eased slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of relief. “Thanks,” you said softly.

For the rest of the evening, Alexia didn’t mention wine—or anything else that might stir up the ghosts of your past. Instead, she made you laugh with stories about her teammates and praised your cooking so earnestly it almost felt like she was trying to make up for the awkward moment earlier.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to be alone forever.

The weeks that followed were a slow but steady unraveling of the walls you had built around yourself. Alexia kept showing up—texting you almost every day, inviting you to lunch, even dropping by your place with fresh bread from a bakery she claimed was the best in the city. It felt strange at first, letting someone occupy so much space in your life again, but with Alexia, it also felt natural.

She started pushing you gently out of your comfort zone, introducing you to parts of her world. One weekend, she invited you to a casual gathering with some of her teammates and friends at a local tapas bar. You were hesitant, your stomach twisting with nerves, but Alexia’s smile and her soft “It’ll be fun, I promise” were enough to convince you.

Walking into the bar, you felt like a fish out of water. The group was lively and close-knit, their energy so different from the quiet, solitary existence you were used to. But Alexia stayed by your side, introducing you to everyone with a warmth that made you feel, if not comfortable, then at least welcome.

Her friends were kind, but they asked questions—harmless ones, like what you did for work, what hobbies you enjoyed. You answered politely, though part of you felt exposed under their curious gazes. And then there were the jokes about Alexia, the teasing about her bringing “a mystery guest” as if this were some kind of date. She laughed it off, but you couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck.

Later that night, as you both walked back to your place, she glanced at you, her eyes twinkling. “So? What did you think?”

“They’re nice,” you said, trying to sound casual. “A little overwhelming, but nice.”

She grinned. “That’s just how they are. Loud, chaotic, but good people.”

You nodded, not entirely sure how to put into words the swirl of emotions you felt—gratitude for being included, insecurity about whether you belonged, and something else you didn’t quite understand.

A few days later, over coffee at a cozy café, Alexia surprised you with a question that nearly made you choke on your latte.

“So,” she said, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “What’s your love life like these days?”

You sputtered, your cheeks heating instantly. “What?”

She shrugged, grinning. “Come on, you’ve got to tell me. Anyone special? Someone I should be jealous of?”

Your heart thudded painfully at the teasing edge in her voice. “There’s…no one,” you admitted, staring at the rim of your cup. “There hasn’t been for a while.”

Alexia tilted her head, studying you with a curious expression. “Why not? You’re amazing—anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Her words made your stomach flip, but they also brought an uncomfortable knot of self-consciousness to your chest. “I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I guess I’m just not great at…putting myself out there. It’s easier to be alone.”

Alexia frowned, her brows knitting together. “Easier, maybe. But is it what you want?”

You didn’t have an answer for that, at least not one you were ready to share. Instead, you shrugged, hoping she’d let the subject drop. She didn’t press further, but the look in her eyes lingered—thoughtful, almost sad.

Over the next few weeks, Alexia continued to nudge you out of your shell. She’d drag you along to brunches with her teammates, send you photos of stray dogs she thought you might like, and even insisted on going to a karaoke night where she convinced you—much to your horror—to sing a duet with her.

But despite the awkwardness, despite the moments when you felt like an outsider in her bright, bustling world, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed being part of it. And more than that, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed being with her.

The vulnerability was terrifying, but with Alexia, it also felt like a chance to start something new. Something real.

The more time you spent with Alexia, the more you found yourself wanting to do things for her—not out of obligation, but out of a quiet, growing need to make her happy. It started with small gestures. When she came over after a long day of training, you’d make her favorite pasta, carefully remembering how she liked extra Parmesan. When she mentioned offhand that her coffee machine was acting up, you bought her a sleek French press and left it on her doorstep with a note: Every footballer deserves good coffee.

Her reaction made the effort worth it every time. She’d text you immediately, her messages brimming with emojis and gratitude that made your heart ache in the best way. Sometimes, she’d call, her voice warm with something that sounded like fondness.

“You’re spoiling me,” she’d say, half-teasing, half-serious.

And maybe you were, but you didn’t mind. You wanted to. For the first time in years, it felt like you had something to give, and giving to Alexia felt…right.

One evening, she invited you over to her place for a movie night. Her apartment was cozy, filled with personal touches that made you smile—photos of her family, trophies tucked casually on shelves, and a pile of throw blankets that she insisted were for “cold nights, not decoration.” You brought along her favorite snacks, remembering a passing comment she’d made weeks ago about a certain brand of chips she loved as a kid.

When she saw the bag in your hand, her eyes lit up like you’d handed her the World Cup trophy. “No way,” she said, laughing as she took the bag. “You remembered this?”

“Of course,” you said, trying to sound casual, even as her excitement made your chest tighten with something unfamiliar. “Figured you deserved a treat.”

Later, as the two of you sat side by side on her couch, your shoulders brushing, you couldn’t focus on the movie. You were too aware of her—how her laugh filled the room, how she leaned closer during particularly intense scenes, how her arm rested lightly against yours.

You glanced at her, taking in the way the screen’s glow softened her features, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. And that feeling stirred again in your chest—warm, insistent, impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t until a few days later that it finally hit you.

You were sitting alone in your apartment, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone when her name popped up—a simple message asking if you wanted to grab lunch. The sight of her name, the thought of seeing her, sent a wave of warmth through you that left you breathless.

You set your phone down, staring at it as if it held the answer to a question you hadn’t realized you were asking. And then, like a puzzle piece clicking into place, the realization settled over you.

You were in love with her.

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. It explained the flutter in your chest every time she smiled, the way you’d replay her laughter in your mind long after she was gone. It explained why you wanted to give her everything, why her happiness felt more important than your own.

But it also scared you. Because loving Alexia—someone so bright, so extraordinary—felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if you were about to fly or fall.

It wasn’t long before the unspoken connection between you and Alexia became impossible to ignore. You spent more and more time together—long conversations into the night, quiet afternoons with coffee in hand, sharing small moments that made you feel like you were slowly falling deeper and deeper into her world. You both knew something had changed, but neither of you spoke of it.

And then, one evening, while sitting on her couch after a long day of running errands, she turned to you with a look in her eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

You had just finished sharing a laugh about something silly, but when the laughter faded, the quiet stretched on longer than usual. Alexia’s gaze softened, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket she had draped across her lap.

“Hey,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

You felt a sudden knot form in your stomach, a mix of excitement and nervousness. What if she felt it too? What if this was the moment?

“Yeah?” you managed, though your voice came out a little shakier than you intended.

She hesitated, biting her lip, as though carefully choosing her words. Then, she looked at you, her eyes steady, her expression vulnerable. “I think…I think I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, the room felt suspended in time. Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed her confession. It wasn’t what you had expected to hear, but it was exactly what you had hoped for—more than you had even dared to admit to yourself.

You stared at her, your breath caught in your throat. You had never known love like this, this certainty that swirled in your chest. This feeling, something raw and pure, that had been quietly building between the two of you since the day you met. You had known for weeks, maybe longer, that something was different about the way she made you feel. But hearing her say it, hearing those words come from her, made everything click into place.

“I…” you began, your voice trembling, unsure of what to say, but the words wouldn’t come out right. Everything felt too big. Too real. Your mind raced, and for a brief moment, you felt overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

Alexia reached over and gently placed her hand on top of yours, her touch grounding you, her warmth spreading through you like fire. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same yet,” she said softly, as if reading your thoughts. “I just wanted you to know. Because I care about you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

You met her gaze then, the vulnerability in her eyes mirroring your own. She’s not afraid, you realized. She had said it, openly, honestly. And maybe it was time for you to do the same.

“I’m…” You swallowed, your heart racing. You had never felt this way before. You had never known what it meant to feel so fully connected to someone, so certain of them, even in the quiet moments, even in the unspoken parts of your life. “I’m in love with you, too,” you whispered, and the weight of those words, the truth in them, made your chest feel lighter than it ever had before.

A soft, relieved smile curved her lips, and before you knew it, she was leaning in, her forehead resting against yours. The contact, simple but intimate, sent a wave of warmth through your body.

“I’m so glad,” she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment as if to savor the feeling. “I didn’t want to say it first. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

You laughed softly, the sound shaky and nervous but genuine. “I didn’t know how to say it either.”

Alexia pulled back slightly, her fingers tracing the back of your hand. “It’s okay. I’m just happy it’s out there now.”

Everything inside of you felt like it was shifting. The world, once so full of uncertainty, now felt more certain. Every glance, every touch, every small gesture between you and Alexia was now wrapped in a tenderness you hadn’t known you craved so deeply.

For you, it was all new—the feeling of love, of letting someone in, of trusting that you could be vulnerable and still be accepted. Every moment with Alexia felt like a first: the first time someone saw all of you and still chose to stay, the first time you felt so completely seen and understood.

And it was terrifying, yes. But it was also beautiful, and thrilling, and everything you had ever needed.

Alexia’s lips brushed lightly against your forehead, a kiss that felt like a promise. “I want to be with you,” she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m so glad we found each other, even if it took a while.”

You smiled, the corners of your lips curving in a way that felt more natural than anything you had felt before. “I want that too,” you whispered back, your heart swelling with something you couldn’t quite put into words.

And as she pulled you closer, your hands intertwined and hearts aligned, you realized that love, for the first time in your life, didn’t feel like a risk anymore. It felt like home.

The years that followed were nothing short of transformative. Every moment with Alexia felt like an adventure, an unfolding journey where each “first” felt monumental, but also incredibly intimate, as if the two of you were exploring a world that was just beginning to make sense.

It started with the first time you spent the night together, a night that felt surreal, as if you were stepping into a new chapter of your relationship. It wasn’t just about the physical closeness, though that was part of it—it was the way Alexia held you, the way she let you into her world with an openness that you had never experienced before. That night, you felt safe, loved, and utterly accepted, a feeling that had once seemed so far away.

You woke up the next morning, tangled in the soft sheets, your heart still racing from the night before. Alexia was still asleep beside you, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. You couldn’t help but smile, tracing the outline of her features as she slept, marveling at how everything about her made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And then, there was the first time you saw her play live. You had watched her practice before, but there was something entirely different about seeing her in front of a crowd, in her element, doing what she loved. The energy in the stadium was electric, the fans chanting her name, and when she scored her first goal that day, your heart soared along with the roar of the crowd. But it wasn’t just the goal, it was the way she looked afterward—confident, powerful, yet still soft in the moments when she’d glance up at you in the stands, her eyes locking with yours, and you’d both share a smile that spoke louder than any words.

Later that night, when the two of you celebrated her win, she couldn’t stop talking about how happy she was to see you there, supporting her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking about how proud you were of her—not just for the goal, but for everything she had accomplished, and for the person she was.

The months went by, and the first anniversary of your relationship came around. It was a quiet celebration, the two of you sharing a candlelit dinner at home, reminiscing about all the moments that had brought you together. You remembered the uncertainty you had felt in the beginning, wondering if you were ready for something this big, but as you looked at Alexia across the table, it was clear that you had made the right choice. You were here, together, and everything was exactly how it was meant to be.

The next step came when the two of you decided to move in together. It felt like a natural progression, like everything in your relationship had led to this moment. Packing up your things and merging your lives into a shared space felt like the beginning of a new chapter. Your apartment became a reflection of both of you—yours and hers—blending seamlessly together. The little touches, like the way Alexia’s football jerseys hung proudly on the walls and the way you had curated a collection of books and art, made the space feel like home.

You settled into the rhythm of daily life—morning coffees together, late-night talks, lazy weekends with nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company. And then came the moment when you hosted your first gathering, an open house to welcome Alexia’s friends and teammates into your home. It was the first time you’d truly felt like you were part of her world, and her friends—who had become your friends, too—were warm and welcoming, just like she had been.

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed easily, laughter filling the rooms, and the energy was infectious. People came and went, talking, eating, and enjoying the night. You felt at ease with Alexia by your side, her hand often finding yours as you moved through the crowd.

At one point, a couple of her teammates turned to Alexia with playful glints in their eyes. “So, where’s the wine?” one of them asked, already scanning the kitchen. “I’m sure you have something tucked away.”

Alexia’s eyes twinkled, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Nope,” she replied, her tone firm but light. “We don’t have any. Never have, never will.”

You looked at her, surprised by her confidence. She shrugged, looking around at her teammates. “We don’t drink here. My girl doesn’t keep alcohol in the house. It’s a thing, and I’m proud of it.”

The teammates shared surprised looks, but no one pressed further. Instead, they found something else to drink—sparkling water, lemonade, iced tea—and the night carried on without missing a beat. But as the evening wore on, Alexia found you in the kitchen, her smile wide.

“See?” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I told you they’d understand.”

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. Alexia had never been ashamed of your choices, never backed down from the things you held dear—even when it was something as small as not having alcohol in the house. She supported you, in every way possible, and that made everything you had with her feel more solid, more real.

As the months and then years passed, you continued to share these firsts—each one more meaningful than the last. You learned to navigate life together, building a partnership founded on love, respect, and the quiet understanding that you were each other’s safe space.

Through every milestone—every celebration, every challenge—you stood by one another, stronger for it. And with Alexia, there was a calm certainty that filled your heart, a knowing that no matter where life took you both, this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

The journey wasn’t always easy, but with Alexia by your side, you knew that you would always have a home to return to, a place where you were cherished, loved, and understood. It was a love that didn’t need grand gestures or bold declarations. It was in the quiet moments, in the shared smiles, in the simple acts of care and kindness.

And as you stood there, in your home—together, with Alexia’s teammates, now your friends—life felt perfect. Perfect in a way you’d never thought possible, and yet here you were, living it. And as Alexia leaned in to kiss you softly, whispering how much she loved you, you knew that you had everything you could ever need.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured X

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: You go back to ballet

Alexia doesn't know whether to be proud or horrified.

You've not even been out of the hospital for three days before she receives a text from Jenni saying that you're going back to ballet - by your own accord.

Alexia has been invited too and she fusses in front of the mirror, tugging at her outfit as she stares.

There's an extra training session tonight, taking penalties, and while Alexia would usually attend, she finds herself staring in her mirror as she contemplates putting her hair up or leaving it loose.

Olga leans by the door, Jaume on her hip. "You are seeing Bambi," She chides," Not going to a business meeting. A suit is not needed."

Alexia tugs at her blazer sleeve. Her slacks aren't buttoned up quite yet and her shirt isn't as crisp as it could be. "Are you sure?"

"Comfortable, Ale," Olga says," A t-shirt and some trackies. Jeans if you must but it's just a ballet class. You're not meeting investors. Change."

Alexia huffs but does as she's told, swapping her slacks for some Barcelona-issued tracksuit bottoms along with her white button-down for a plain t-shirt. Her blazer is taken from her in favour of a lightweight jacket and she's pushed out of the door in her trainers before she can contemplate other shoe options.

She's early for your ballet practice and she can hear you before you and Jenni even turn the corner.

You're talking animatedly to her, your little hand tight in hers as she looks down at you. Jenni's smiling at you, a big beaming smile that falls like a lance through Alexia's chest as she watches Jenni hang off your every word.

You stop in front of her, eyes wide as you shuffle a little closer like you're wary of her. "Hi, Mami."

Alexia smiles. "Hi, Bambi."

You very slowly shuffle even closer, looking like you're going to bolt back to the safety Jenni offers you before your little arms are wrapped around Alexia's legs in a hug.

Alexia's hand very gently runs through your unbound hair as you peer up at her with those same wide eyes.

"Come on, Bambi," Jenni calls and you immediately scamper back to her side," You've still got to change your shoes and gets your hair done. Inside, come on."

Jenni holds the door open for you and you hurry in, finding a place at a bench already crammed with parents and children as you begin to pull off your shoes.

"How is she?" Alexia asks.

"Sleepy," Jenni answers," Still a little emotional. She cried when I told her she should take another day off from ballet so here we are." She rummages around in the bag on her back. "Bambi, feet please."

You place one foot on Jenni's bent knee as she slips on your ballet flat before swapping to do the other. "When I'm eleven or twelve," You tell Mami," I can wear fancy pointe shoes and go up to tippy-toe!"

"Only if you keep practising," Jenni reminds you as she moves around the back to scrape your hair into a bun. Her hand skims your upper back and you flinch and Jenni notices instantly, freezing her movements until you fully relax again.

She doesn't touch your back again as she makes sure all of your hair is tied back in a bun.

"Alright," She says and you twist around to face her, turning your back on Mami as Ma-Jenni cups your face," What's the most important thing?"

"Having fun."

"That's right. Have fun. Turn on your listening ears and try your hardest."

You nod.

"And if you feel sleepy or tired you tell the teacher right away and they'll come and get me, understand?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

The door to the studio opens as students come out and your group goes in. You move with the crowd before stopping and turning around again.

You run back to Jenni, giving her a big hug before being released. You make an aborted movement to go again but stop yourself. In a few light steps, you're standing in front of Alexia.

"I'm going in now, Mami," You say," Bye-bye."

"I'm not going anywhere, Bambi," Alexia says," I'll be right here with Jenni when you come out."

You frown, head tilted to the side in confusion. "Why? Today's always penalty practice. You always go to penalty practice."

"Well, today, I'm at ballet practice. I'm staying here."

You look up at her, trying to puzzle out if she's lying to you and Alexia takes the chance to very carefully pull you into a hug. You're tense and rigid for a moment before you're fully relaxed against her, bringing your own arms up for a hug of your own.

You pull away and Alexia lets you, even though she desperately wants to keep you with her. So, she settles on walking you to the door.

Jenni's there too, talking with your teacher.

"-Just out of hospital. She might be a little woozy today or tired. I'm just outside if she needs a break or something."

You slip into the studio and get lost in the crowd of other kids as Alexia takes a seat on the bench with Jenni and the other parents. It's a little awkward.

Jenni knows everyone, greeting people casually and answering their small talk while Alexia awkwardly sits there.

Usually, she uses the time you're in ballet to run a few errands before going into an extra training session. Usually, she'd already be in the car and gone, picking up the dry cleaning from the fancy place down the street or getting the groceries done even though she could get them delivered.

It's odd to be sitting here.

Sitting here with her ex, staring through the glass walls to watch your session.

It's clear to Alexia that some of these kids are just here to have fun. They're here because their parents signed them up for this. But not you.

Even now, at such a young age, Alexia can recognise her laser focus in you, from the way you very slightly change your positioning or how you're always staring at your teacher, not letting your eyes stray through the windows to where you know Alexia and Jenni are sitting.

Your only focus is on your ballet and Alexia can imagine a grown up version of you in her head, with a proper outfit and pointe shoes and hair in a bun you've done yourself. She can imagine you on a stage with a full orchestra accompanying your dancing.

Alexia blinks and that image of you is gone.

It's just the you now and the way a tiny sliver of your tongue sticks out as you shift your foot further outwards.

"She's so talented," One of the other mothers says to Jenni, who beams.

The praise goes straight to Jenni's chest like this woman has personally complimented her. Your talent is obvious even at this age and Jenni knows under the right guidance, you're going to be great.

Her heart swells with pride as she watches you.

Your teacher has to adjust everyone's positioning but not yours.

You're a little prodigy and Jenni's so proud of you.

You're still a little tired, still have a sore throat from the tube that had been stuck down it but you're powering through it. Jenni would have preferred you staying home with her but you had been adamant.

You've gotten that from Alexia.

Jenni's never seen that level of focus on anyone who wasn't a Putellas. She's even seen it on Alba on occasion. Putellas girls grab what they want and they don't let it go.

Jenni sneaks a glance at Alexia, whose eyes haven't strayed from your dancing.

She knows that if Alexia wants to keep you, if Alexia doesn't want to let Jenni raise you then she won't get you - even if she's the right choice. Even if Jenni puts everything into raising you, if Alexia wants to keep you then Jenni will never get you.

Even if Jenni begs and begs, Putellas girls don't let go of what they want.

If Alexia decides that she can give you a better life, if she clings and clings and clings then you'll never be in Jenni's arms again and she doesn't know if she can cope with that.

Her only hope is that Eli can talk sense into Alexia, that Eli can see that Jenni is the best choice for you, the best choice to support and shape you into who you're going to be as an adult.

They sit in silence for most of your session, only exchanging a few words before you're released to them.

You're panting from exertion and you look so drained. You raise your hands up when you get close to them and Alexia's the quickest one.

She picks you up and settles you on her hip with ease. It's been a long time since you've been so comfortable with that. You're not completely comfortable just yet but you relax more and more until you're like you used to be.

Jenni trails after the two of you.

"How was dance, Bambi?" She asks and you peak over Alexia's shoulder to beam at her.

"Good! Fun!"

"That's excellent!" Jenni says," Do your feet hurt?"

You give her a cheeky smile and nod. "Mama gives me foot massages when they hurt!" You say to Mami.

"That's-" Alexia gets cut off by a loud, familiar voice from across the street.

"No way!" The voice says," Is that my favourite ballerina? It looks like it is!"

"Mapi!" You kick a little bit for Alexia to put you down and she begins to lower you to the ground but Jenni plucks you straight from her.

Alexia's in a little bit of awe at the way Jenni so easily swaps your ballet pumps for your trainers with one hand. She does it so easily and so naturally that it leaves Alexia wondering if she'd practised this or if it came automatically.

Once your outside shoes are on, Jenni releases you.

Thankfully, Mapi (and Ingrid) have already crossed the street so you can get to them without getting hit by a car.

"Hi, Mapi!" You chirp as Mapi reaches around to untie your hair from its bun, leaving it to fall loose down your back.

"What?" Ingrid chuckles," No hi for me?"

You suddenly turn shy, rubbing the tip of your shoe in the ground as you refuse to make eye contact, cheeks going bright red. "Hi, Ingrid." You shuffle into her arms and Jenni laughs, patting Mapi on the back.

"Better watch out," Jenni says," Or Bambi might steal your girlfriend."

Mapi rolls her eyes. "Only if she's into women years older than her."

"Well, by the looks of her crush, she might."

Jenni's clearly teasing but it still sends a bolt of lightning down Alexia's spine. She can't imagine you finding a partner one day. She can't imagine what you would look for in a partner.

Someone your age, Alexia reckons. Maybe someone you met through ballet. Maybe someone that has no association with football. Probably someone from Barcelona.

She's not really sure she can imagine you with someone. She can imagine you on stage. She can imagine you dancing professionally. She can't imagine you dating anyone.

She can't imagine you dating someone and moving away. She can't imagine you moving away as an adult. She can't imagine you moving away now.

She knows that if she lets you go with Jenni then you're going to Mexico. She knows that you're leaving Spain.

Alexia also knows that she's a Putellas. She knows that a Putellas doesn't just roll over and take the punches. She knows that if she wants something (if she wants to keep you with her) then she'll have to hold it tightly and not let it go (let you go) no matter what someone else thinks or says.

You're a Putellas too.

You're not a Hermoso - at least not legally.

You have Alexia's hyper focus. You have Alexia's genes too.

That has to count for something.

You came from Alexia. You grew in Alexia's womb. Alexia endured hours of labour to have you.

That has to count for something, right?

Right?

Blood rushes through Alexia's ears as she looks down at you, at how shy you still look while you stare at Ingrid, the tips of your ears turning pink just like Alexia's do when she's feeling shy.

Jenni's time in Spain is running out every day but for everything of herself she can see in you, Alexia can still aspects of Jenni in you. From the way you giggle and the way you smile and the way you hug.

Everything that used to be Alexia, is slowly changing into Jenni and you seem none the wiser.

"Bambi," Alexia calls and you turn to look at her.

You seem a little confused at being spoken to so suddenly but you're still smiling. It doesn't dim in the slightest.

"We goin' home now, Mami?"

Jenni freezes, whatever she's been saying to Mapi stops in her throat. You haven't called Alexia's house 'home' since Jenni's been with you. You've only called Alba's place 'home'.

Jenni doesn't know what that means. She doesn't know if you mean Alexia's place or Alba's. She doesn't know if you know which one you mean either.

She hates that stupid smug look on Alexia's face.

A look that Alexia doesn't even know she's wearing. She beams from ear to ear at your words. She wants desperately to say yes, to bring you back into the little family that you're a firm part of, to bring you back home to your room full of trains.

But she keeps herself calm.

She knows that she can't just sweep you away like that.

She needs to remain calm.

"Not right now, Bambi," She says," Listen me and Jenni need to go and see your Abuela. Do you want to spend the rest of your day with Mapi and Ingrid?"

You look at Ingrid, cheeks still bright red as you nod. "Yes, please, Mami."

Jenni takes the reins after that, giving Mapi orders on how to look after you and how in an hour or so you have your midday nap and to make sure that you have somewhere soft and warm to rest your head. She lays off orders that even Alexia hasn't thought of like how you should have a glass of water with a hint of lemon because it always wakes you up after naptime and how they shouldn't touch you because you're a light sleeper and you really need the rest after your hospital stay.

You curl into Jenni's arms as she says goodbye to you. You go all limp and boneless and somewhere along the way, your little fist latches on the front of Alexia's shirt, pulling her into the hug too. Just like it was in the Before.

With Mapi rolling her eyes and Ingrid promising to take the best care of you, Alexia and Jenni are at Eli's house within the hour.

Alba is there too, an ever-present figure of disapproval as she leans against the doorframe. Everyone already knows Alba's vote on this matter.

Her position has never swayed and Alexia can't look her in the eyes.

Alba wants her sister out of your life. Permanently if she could help it but at least as your main caregiver if she couldn't get permanently.

She has never been swayed. She has never thought any different. She doesn't care if she has to fly to Mexico to see you. She doesn't care if you never step foot in Spain again.

Alba thinks that's a better alternative than having you with Alexia.

Jenni's position is clear too. She won't say it out loud but everyone knows her position. She wants you. She wants you like she needs air to breathe. She wants you with every cell in her body and she doesn't think Alexia and Olga's home is right for you. It's alright for you but it's not perfect and Jenni thinks she can make you the perfect home.

Alexia's vote is cast in her own favour too. She's acknowledged what she's done. She's fixing it. She's changing how she lives her life so it can be better suited to you and your schedule. She's proving to everyone that she can still be a mother to you. She's showing that she loves you just as much as she loves Jaume. She's making a family for herself, a family that you deserve to be a part of.

But everyone knows where the decision truly lies.

It lies with the woman sitting at the head of the table.

She is not a Putellas. She does not cling to what she wants and refuses to let it go.

Eli is a Segura. She looks at both sides. She weighs up have-beens and could-bes and makes her decisions on that. If she thinks something would do better out of her grip then she will let it go. She will let it thrive and grow away from her even if it means never seeing it again.

She looks at her daughter and then to the woman that could have been her daughter-in-law.

The debates had been going back and forth for hours now, words bouncing off the walls of her house as she sat there.

Alexia made her case.

Jennie made her case.

Alba threw in her own opinions.

Then, Eli spoke.

She spoke for a long while and everyone hung on her every word.

"I cannot force you to do what you do not want to, Ale," Eli says at the end," She is your daughter. You have all the rights to her. Her future is in your hands right now-"

"Mama!" Alba cuts in," You can't be serious?! We all know what Alexia will choose! You cannot let her do this!"

"I cannot force your sister to do anything," Eli says," She is an adult and she holds all of Bambi's rights. None of us can force her to do anything." Her eyes flick back to her eldest. "But think about this carefully, Alexia. Do not make this decision with your heart. Make it with your head. Do what is best for Bambi."

Eli's words come back to Alexia a few days later at the park.

You and Jenni have met her, Olga and Jaume there.

Jaume is now strong enough to hold his own head up and crawl around, exploring the world with his hands and mouth.

He sits on the grass with Olga settled on the picnic blanket. He's crawling around, playing on the slight incline and Olga lets him, keeping half an eye on him and the other on her book.

You and Jenni are in the playground, playing on the slide. You're getting stronger and stronger every day. Your throat and voice are no longer scratchy and you've been given the all-clear from the doctor.

You're holding the new train that Jenni got you to celebrate getting out of the hospital. The usual train store has closed down now but Jenni managed to find another one. It ended up just you and her. You weren't sure that you wanted Mami to come with you. You turn your head a little to look at her.

Alexia sits on a bench, equal distance away from both you and Jaume, able to swivel her head around to see both of you.

Jaume tries to stick a flower in his mouth that Olga promptly confiscates.

You erupt into a fit of giggles as Jenni tickles your tummy.

Jaume tugs his shoes off.

You duck under the climbing frame.

Jaume babbles and claps.

You shriek with laughter when Jenni catches up to you.

Then the bubble bursts and all of the convincing Alexia has done to herself bursts. Every time she tells herself that she can make this work. Every time she tells herself that the decision she has made is the right one.

It's all ruined now.

Jaume tumbles down the incline. It's not a far fall for an adult but it's enough to shock a scream and tears from him. Olga's by his side instantly.

You fall off the slide. You land as a little heap on the ground and it's not a far fall either but you still cry as Jenni picks you up.

Both of you are hysterical, sobbing your eyes out and looking close to a breakdown.

"Ale!"

"Alexia!"

Alexia stands.

She looks between both situations and emotions she's never felt before surge through her system.

Jaume, her little football player.

You, her little ballerina.

Alexia must have glanced between you both countless time in the two seconds it takes her to react.

Her feet move on their own accord, carrying her towards one of her children.

The decision she previously made has changed. Alexia knows that nothing will be the same anymore.

The decision, this time, is permanent.

[luvsupa]

a/n: writing this bc uni just started for me and I hope this happens to me in class </3 (minus the embarrassing part)

choso sat in the back of the lecture hall, his oversized headphones blasting music so loud you could hear the faint beat, despite being seated right next to him. you tried to focus on the professor up front, but the heavy metal practically vibrated through your brain. with a huff, you paused your typing, your long acrylic nails hovering above the keys, and turned to look at him—now admiring his looks.

his head bobbed along with the music, thick fingers scribbling notes on his large ipad. his hands were adorned with chrome heart rings, matching perfectly with his facial piercings, and every time you saw him, he had on new jewelry that just made him… more attractive. this time, instead of his usual two buns, his hair was down, cascading past his shoulders. god, he looked good like that. you really wanted to tell him to keep his hair down more often, but just being near him made your heart race too fast to even speak.

he was all dressed in black, chunky doc martens completing his look, and you hadn’t realized how long you’d been staring at him until he paused his music, sliding one side of his headphones off to look at you. your heart stopped.

“is my music too loud?” he asked softly, his voice catching you completely off guard. it was… sweet? you blinked, your laptop screen dimming as it fell asleep, just like your focus.

“just a bit,” you mumbled, watching as he grabbed his phone, sliding down the volume with a smile that made your body melt.

“i like you…” the words slipped out before you could stop them.

choso froze, one hand halfway to his headphones, looking at you like you’d just confessed. which… you basically did.

“i-i mean, i like your outfit!” you squeaked, heat flooding your body as your hands became sweaty as you mentally slapped yourself. choso just stared, eyebrows raised.

“n-not that i wouldn’t like you!” you scrambled to explain, your voice lowering to avoid the stares from the people sitting nearby. “i-it just slipped out, i swear!”

choso’s lips twitched, his amusement barely contained as he fully took off his headphones, leaning in slightly as if to hear you better. why not tease her, he thinks

“ohh, i see. so, you wouldn’t like me, huh? that’s a little harsh.” his voice took on a mock-hurt tone, but the teasing glint in his eyes was undeniable.

you gasped, totally falling for it. “no! i didn’t mean it like that! cho’, i’m so—”

wait.

you froze. did you just call him “cho’”? you definitely had never exchanged names, much less nicknames! your face drained of colour as choso smirked, clearly enjoying your panic.

“cho’?” he raised a brow, his lip piercing catching the light. “didn’t know we were close like that.” he chuckled, low and teasing. “but i don’t mind. it’s cute.”

you wanted to melt into the floor. the secondhand embarrassment from the other students was evident, and your heart was pounding too hard to think straight. you shot up from your seat, nearly knocking over your bag in your rush to escape. all eyes were on you as you bolted out the back of the classroom, face burning with mortification.

you sprinted to the nearest bathroom, slamming the door behind you as you leaned against the sink. “oh my gosh,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. he was totally going to think you were a stalker now. you’d found his instagram before it went private, and you’d seen his younger brother yuji calling him “cho’” in the comments. you were doomed.

meanwhile, back in the classroom, choso couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. he found your flustered state adorable—he didn’t think you were creepy at all. in fact, he wished you’d stayed a little longer so he could keep teasing you. with a soft chuckle, he tore a piece of paper from his artbook from his bag and scribbled down his number quickly as he placed the torn paper on your laptop.

“you can always call me cho’ ;)”

[megalony]

Do You Trust Me

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by the lovely @midsummereve1993 I hope you like how it turned out.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro. @itsgigikay

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: During a power outage that strikes the whole city, (Y/n) goes into labour right on her due date. And Eddie has to deliver their baby.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie adjusted the watch strapped to his wrist as he slowly headed through the hall towards the bedroom. He shimmied his wrist from side to side, feeling a smile pulling at his lips when he walked into the room and his eyes set on his wife.

She was stood in front of the dressing table, wearing only her bra and a pair of leggings while she gathered her hair up in a loose bun.

Keeping his steps light, he walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist with a catfish grin when (Y/n) jumped against him.

His hands moved to cup her bare stomach with his elbows pinned into her hips and his chest pressed up against her back. He felt the shiver that bolted down her spine when he pressed his lips just below her ear and started to nip at the skin.

(Y/n) let her head fall back on Eddie's shoulder and her hands moved to hold his wrists when his lips started to make a trail down the side of her neck and over her shoulder. Her eyes closed and she held her breath, trying to sink into his touch, but if they carried on he was only going to wind her up because he was getting ready to leave for work.

"Eddie, baby…" Her words trailed off into a groan when Eddie bit her neck like a vampire and she was sure he had bit down harsh enough to draw blood.

She tightened her hands on his wrists as his fingers started to feather up and down her stomach. She could feel his lips curving into a wicked smile against her skin when he felt the baby start to move and kick against his hand.

(Y/n) let herself sink into his touch just a little bit longer, relishing in his embrace until she finally knew if she didn't move, neither of them were going to. She twisted in his arms to break out of his loving embrace and made a wobbly beeline for the bed.

She barely managed to sit down before Eddie was stood between her legs, one hand on her hip and the other cupping her chin so he could tilt her head back and steal her lips in a kiss. His lips stole her breath and devoured her like he was trying to take all of her oxygen and inhale her like a drug. His fingers squeezed her hip and he leaned forward into her until (Y/n) had to recline and press one hand down into the bed to stabilise herself.

"Baby you need to go to work." (Y/n) strained to lean her head back until her lips were level with his but not touching so she could get the words out in between feverish kissses.

(Y/n) could have swooned when she watched the way Eddie grinned down at her. He towered over her like a skyscraper and when he was stood over her like that and with his knees pressing into her thighs, he looked mesmerising.

Lifting her arms, she looped them around his neck and reeled him closer so she could bury her face in the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes and (Y/n) relished in the touch and breathed in his scent and that signature cologne that made her knees go weak. She knew he had to get going soon or he wouldn't be on time for his double shift at the station. He would be at work today, right through into the night and then finish sometime tomorrow; before lunch, hopefully.

"Are you sure you'll be okay without me?" His words were playful but there was a hint of worry woven into his tone.

"I'm sure I'll sleep with the bed to myself, and no fireman practically pushing me out the bed." Her tongue poked between her lips in a cheeky grin when Eddie moved his hand down to swat her inner thigh and his brow raised in a playful challenge.

They both knew she was only joking.

Eddie may be a light sleeper, but he had vivid dreams and the odd nightmare, and he moved a lot in his sleep. (Y/n) had grown used to him constantly tossing and turning, finding a leg wedged between hers or an arm flinging into her waist. And he seemed to levitate to her side of the bed a lot, but she found it comforting when he wrapped himself around her.

Although he had tried his best these last few months not to fling himself around too much when he slept. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally hit or push (Y/n) in his sleep when she was pregnant.

Her fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head while he grinned and pecked her temple.

"Hm, not what I meant, baby. Your due date is tomorrow, I don't want you overdoing anything or going into labour without me here."

A shiver tore down (Y/n)'s spine and she loosened her arms around Eddie's neck when he bent down until he was crouching between her legs. His hands moved to her legs and he gently raked his fingers up and down her thighs, creating pins and needles in his wake.

The way he perched his chin on her upper thigh made him look somewhat boyish and his soft smile made her heart leap in her chest. But it was the way he brushed his nose against her abdomen and pressed a soft kiss to her curved stomach that made (Y/n)'s hands move to grip his shoulders.

He didn't want to go to work and be away from (Y/n) all day and night if she felt uneasy or felt like she might go into labour. Her due date was tomorrow and after this double shift, Eddie would have the next five days off. He had pulled a stunt of doubles so he had five days off in a row for (Y/n)'s due date. And if she didn't go into labour within those days, they would be seeing the midwife anyway.

As soon as (Y/n) had the baby, Eddie would be off on annual leave for two weeks to be home with her, Chris and their new addition.

And Eddie knew his wife. He knew she would be tidying up today and busying herself. She would overdo it without realising and Eddie didn't want her doing that and then going into labour with him stuck at work. If she wanted or needed Eddie to stay home, all she had to do was say so.

"No, you go to work. I don't think the baby's gonna make an appearance yet, they seem pretty comfy."

It wasn't as if (Y/n) had mountains of work to do today, she would tidy up a little and then relax until she had to go pick Chris up from school. She wasn't going to be doing anything strenuous.

She didn't feel any different either, her stomach didn't feel lower or tighter, the baby was still wriggling as normal, no excessive movements or feeling like they were shifting down. (Y/n) felt oddly calm because the baby felt settled and didn't seem like they were going to be making an appearance today or tomorrow.

They would stay right here until Eddie came home, (Y/n) just knew it.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure, you don't need to worry, baby." (Y/n) dragged her fingers through his hair slowly and methodically while his lips merged with her stomach and his hands shifted up to cup her hips.

"If you say so," His eyes locked with hers for a few seconds before he moved his attention back down to her stomach he was still kissing. "Don't you get any ideas, you stay right here until I come home." He peppered his lips up and down her stomach while his thumbs stroked along her back.

He had been rather surprised that (Y/n) hadn't gone into labour already. Shannon had been two weeks early when she had Chris and when his sisters had their kids, none of them reached their due date. Eddie only had one relative who had been a week overdue, and she had gone to the hospital to induce labour to be safe.

Eddie didn't want to go down that road. He was happy they had gotten this far, no premature baby to worry about and fret over and everything had been smooth sailing so far. But he couldn't bear waiting much longer. He hoped that after tomorrow, something would just click in (Y/n)'s body and she would go into labour so they didn't have to worry. Then they wouldn't have to panic for the next week about waiting for labour and having to go to the hospital for labour to be induced.

They needed the baby to arrive within the week.

***

Tilting his head back, Eddie dragged his fingers through his tangled locks of hair and stretched his shoulders out, hearing his spine click into place as he walked past the kitchen. His lips curled at the smell of the food sat bagged on the kitchen floor and the few tuppaware boxes laid out on the countertops.

The power had gone out.

All across the city, there was a worldwide power outage and that meant no charges, no electricity, no cooking appliances worked. Such as the fridge and freezer. They had bagged the frozen food and placed them in the inventory room at the back where they would defrost very slowly. The food from the fridge had been sorted into perishables that they couldn't eat and any food that needed eating was laid out on the counter for people to pass and take as they pleased.

Buck had busied himself finding the torches, LED lights and giving out the portable charges to distribute between everyone.

Eddie had made a few calls to (Y/n) to check on her and Chris who wasn't at school because of the panic and chaos right now. He wanted to go home. Eddie had been here all morning to help with the frenzy and it was now past lunchtime, and he was still here.

Cracking his neck from side to side, Eddie grabbed the railing and turned to head down the stairs just as Bobby's voice sounded throughout the station.

"Okay, everybody line up please."

He heard a few chorus groans and murmurs as everyone scrambled to line up in front of the truck. Eddie heard Chimney walking behind him and he watched Buck get up from the desk where he had been doing some audits and scribblings to try and help keep things organised. If everything in here wasn't organised, Buck would have a tantrum.

Eddie nodded at Buck as he fell into line next to him and moved his hands to plant them on his hips. He could tell already from the look on Bobby's face that this wasn't going to be a fun pep-talk and they weren't going to get any good news either. That was obvious.

"Okay," Bobby clapped his hands together and dragged his eyes up and down them all as he tried to find out how to word this. "This power-outage is an ongoing situation, and it's likely that it won't be sorted anytime soon."

Murmurs and annoyed faces were shared between them all. They had hoped it would be a minor inconvenience, an hour or two, and then things would go back to normal.

"Without power, people are going to be panicking. We're gonna get a lot of calls, people stuck in lifts, buildings with automatic locking systems going haywire. A few calls from some of the older generation needing some help, and if this continues into the night, then there will no doubt be some traffic accidents to deal with."

A lot of people would call the emergency services because they had no power, they would be asking how to cook without power, how to charge their phones. People without real emergencies would clog the lines wanting to know why the tv wasn't working or find the nearest place with power or a generator.

The elderly were likely to need more assistance and help and that was part of the job. They would deal with people injuring themselves trying to get power, people doing silly things with extension leads, people falling and having accidents in the dark.

And a lot of car accidents would happen at night with no road lights making it harder to see people and animals and sharp bends and speed signs. They were in for a long ride.

"And, I'm afraid, with this being a big far spread issue, we have to go to emergency protocols. I need all of you here at the station for the number of emergencies we're going to be called out to. Everyone is now staying on shift, you'll do rotations and get a few hours to sleep in the bunker room and to wash and call your families."

The outraged groans and stomping feet made Bobby wince and he nodded, holding his hands up. He understood. He wasn't going anywhere either. He would much rather be going home in an hour to be with Athena and have a break, but he couldn't. They were all needed during this state of panic and that meant they would be living here until the power came back on.

They had the bunker room and a few extra cot beds had been made up in there. Clothes could be washed and changed here, the extras were all being pulled out the inventory room. They had ample showering space, they had food and reserves. It would be rotated shifts so everyone got a break, but they had to stay at the station and be on standby ready to go out again at a moment's notice.

Bobby wasn't cruel and he wasn't doing this on purpose. If anyone had a family emergency they could go. If anyone was concerned about their families, they would make welfare checks en-route to other calls. They could all have their phones on them and take calls and messages and speak to loved ones, that was no issue.

They just had to remain here.

"Oh no." A sudden thought dawned on Eddie which made his heart rocket ten times faster in his chest that was starting to seize up.

(Y/n).

How could Eddie stay here for the next few hours, possibly even days, and leave (Y/n) and Chris?

Her due date was today. She was exactly nine months pregnant and about to go into labour at any moment. Eddie couldn't just live at the station and pray the baby would know he wasn't there and wait for him to come home. What if (Y/n) went into labour without him? What if that happened and she had no battery on her phone to call him?

"Cap, I- " Eddie tangled his fingers in his hair while his other hand clenched down on his hip until the bone was aching from the contact and he was sure he was about to dislocate the ball joint.

How did he ask this without seeming like a prick? How did he broach the subject without coming across as rude or privileged? Eddie knew everyone else had families. Chimney had Maddie and Jee waiting at home for him. Hen had Karen and Denny. Buck had a girlfriend, as did Ravi and Bobby had Athena and May. They all had their families who they couldn't be with right now and Eddie in no way thought his family and commitments were more pressing or important. But his circumstances were different.

"Can I bring (Y/n) and Chris to the station while the power's out?"

There. He blurted it out before he lost the courage or started to overwhelm himself with panicked thoughts.

"It might be safer to have them stay at home, we're gonna be pretty busy here." Bobby's tone was gentle and the manner in which he tipped his head to the side almost made Eddie feel bad for asking.

He knew the station was going to be busy. They were going to have a lot of workers buzzing about the place, people trying to keep track and stock the ambulance and the trucks ready to roll. People dealing with the thawing food, people cleaning up and trying to catch some sleep and flitting about wanting to get charging packs to call their families.

The public might come here to try and get some help, friends and family might swing by to check on loved ones. It was going to be busy, but Eddie was desperate. He needed his family down here.

"No, I know, but… Bobby it's (Y/n)'s due date today. If we're all staying here for God knows how long, I'd rather have them here. If she goes into labour now while I'm not there, with no power, I…"

"It's her due date today?" When Eddie nodded, he watched Bobby's expression dampen and the Captain ran his hand up and down his freshly shaved jawline. "Okay, go get them and bring them here, we'll play it safe. Better to have a baby here with medics around than alone at home."

"Thank you." The relief was evident in Eddie's brown orbs and he ran his sweaty palms up and down his sides, refraining from calling (Y/n) right here and now.

"You and Buck have been on a double shift already, both of you head home, get changed and grab whatever you need then come back."

The pair of them had been here the longest, it was only fair that Bobby let them head home if Eddie was going to bring (Y/n) and Chris down here. They could both head home, get changed and find anything they needed and bring everything back with them. As long as they were reasonably quick about it.

"Let's go." Buck patted the back of his hand against Eddie's shoulder and ticked his head to the side.

The pair of them wasted no time grabbing their bags from their lockers and once Buck had his keys, they hurried to his jeep and were on the road.

At least Chris was going to enjoy himself. Eddie could picture the moment he walked through the door and told his son to go pack a bag for a sleepover down at the station. Having (Y/n) there would certainly calm down Eddie's raging nerves. If she went into labour, there would be people surrounding her, equipment and medics. The only thing Eddie was nervous about was the fact that he would still technically be working.

He could be stuck out on a call with (Y/n) giving birth at the station without him, but that was highly unlikely. If she went into labour, they would have time to spare, this was her first pregnancy. And anyone could get hold of Eddie on the radio and get him to come back to the station.

He was close to rattling like a pill bottle when Buck pulled up outside his home.

"I'll head home for some stuff, then I'll swing back round in about twenty minutes and pick you all up. That okay?"

"Perfect, see you soon." Eddie clapped Buck on the shoulder before he grabbed his bag and hopped out the jeep.

He pelted up the drive before Buck had even pulled off the curb and he fished his keys out his pocket, shakily turning the lock and heading inside. It was times like this that Eddie was thankful he didn't have any mod-cons in his home. He couldn't imagine having a house that verified people going in and out and had AI built in. What would they do in this situation? Could they get in and out of the house, or would the lock freeze and only work once the power came back on?

"Amor… Chris? I'm back, you both okay?"

He trudged through the hall and looked round the house. The living room was dark from the rain clouds rolling in outside, but (Y/n) had made provisions. She had lit candles all around the living room and turned on the battery lanterns they had which had previously only been for decoration.

He could see she had found the battery radio which was laid out on the coffee table and when he peeked into the dining room, there were colouring books and puzzle boxes scattered around. She and Chris had been busy in his absence.

"Baby," He called out as he jogged down the hall. He peeked into Chris's room to find him laid on the fluffy rug beside his bed, going through an interactive book that splurted out random facts and had an option to do a mini quiz. It seemed Chris was finding a lot of things to do now he couldn't watch TV or go in his video games.

He left Chris to it and pushed open his bedroom door where figured (Y/n) had to be since he hadn't bumped into her yet.

"Baby-" Eddie was all set to reel off the reason he was back and the fact that they needed to pack a few essentials and head back to the station when Buck came back. But he couldn't find any words when he finally locked eyes on his wife.

She was stood at the end of the bed in her bra and a pair of Eddie's lounge shorts, but it was her stance that bothered him. She had her forearms resting on the bed and her head pressing down into her arms like she was trying to do some strange yoga pose or stretch out her back.

He found himself silently standing in the doorway, waiting for (Y/n) to move or talk or notice him so he could find out what she was actually doing.

He watched the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, bending her knees every now and then when she leaned on the other leg. But when she twisted her head and pressed her cheek into the bed, her eyes locked on him as she looked over her arm and he saw her smile.

"I- I was about to call,"

"Why… amor what are you doing?" He didn't want to sound rude and he tried to keep the confusion out of his voice as he walked over to her and rested his hand on her lower back.

But being this close made Eddie realise that (Y/n) had been crying. He could see tear tracks down her face and her lower lip was bruised, showing she had been biting it out of nervous habit. And with his hand on her back, Eddie could feel the way she was subtly trembling.

"My water broke… oh, Eddie it's happening."

"Oh Dios."

Eddie slid his hand round from (Y/n)'s back to hold her hip while his other hand held onto her arm and he stepped closer to her side.

Right on their due date, what perfect timing.

Thank God he had asked Bobby if (Y/n) and Chris could come down to the station. Thank God he had come home to get them.

He began moving his hand in soothing circles up and down her lower back and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the side of her neck while he tried to think. They had to come up with a different plan of action. He would have to get Buck to take them to the hospital- and drop Chris off with someone if he could get Carla or maybe (Y/n)'s parents to watch him during the power outage. He couldn't just leave Buck to take Chris back to the station if he and (Y/n) weren't going to be there.

"Fuck, right, I- I was gonna bring you and Chris down to the station with me. I'll see if someone can have him, Buck dropped me off, he's coming back so I guess we'll take a detour to the hospital."

"Can we wait i-in the living room? I need to move." (Y/n) tilted her head back and looked up at Eddie through tears that were beginning to stream down her face again. She felt like collapsing and lying in bed but that wouldn't do them any favours if she wouldn't be able to get up again.

She moved one arm off the bed to reach out for Eddie and she managed a smile when he took her hand in his and kept his right arm bound around her back. Once she managed to stand up straight, he reeled her into his side and took some of her weight for her.

"Off we go, amor."

"The bag."

"Bag?"

When (Y/n) pointed behind them towards the closet, Eddie kissed her neck and leaned over to grab the hospital bag they had packed over a month ago. He hooked it on his elbow and went back to holding (Y/n)'s hand and slowly guided her out of the room.

His eyes kept going back to her and he watched the way she arched forward and seemed to shuffle rather than pick her feet up.

"When did your water break?" They shared a look as (Y/n) stared up at him through hooded lashes and Eddie sucked in a deep breath. "Baby, how long have you been in labour?"

He almost dreaded asking. She didn't look like she was just starting to feel contractions, she seemed as if she had been dealing and crying through them for a while now.

"Couldn't sleep last night… I felt sick this morning, then my water broke a while ago. I- I didn't call, I thought you'd be home sooner." She shivered when she felt Eddie's growl tear through her own chest.

She had been in discomfort all last night, but she put it down to being heavily pregnant and missing Eddie. She didn't settle when he did night shifts. But then this morning she couldn't have breakfast because she felt sick, and then she and Chris had to muddle through the power cut and found out that this might be going on for a while, maybe a few days.

She thought Eddie would be coming home soon, she thought he would get to come home for a day and then be drafted back to work. It didn't dawn on (Y/n) that Eddie might be kept on shift throughout this emergency and when it started getting later and later, she knew she would have to call him. But he came home before she had chance, so it didn't matter anymore.

"Let's sit you down. I'm gonna check you over while we wait for Buck."

They barely reached the living room before (Y/n) shuffled Eddie's hand down to the underside of her stomach as she doubled over. Her chest arched forward and her knees bent as she felt the desire to kneel down on the floor so she didn't have to hold herself up anymore.

A broken cry left her lips and tears started to trace down her cheeks again when another contraction tore through her abdomen.

"Eddie…"

"It's okay, I've got you-"

He almost stumbled to his knees when (Y/n) bent down, subsequently pulling his arm down with her. She kept one hand clutching Eddie's forearm while her other hand scraped against the back of the armchair and she used it as leverage to kneel down on the living room floor.

As soon as she was knelt down, (Y/n) pressed her face into the chair so she could cry without the risk of Chris hearing her and becoming frightened. The last thing they wanted was to upset him or make him think something bad was happening.

She arched her back out and leaned more into the chair and she relaxed a little when she realised Eddie was rubbing his hand up and down her back in soothing circles. She felt his lips pressing against the back of her head while his other hand stayed cupping her stomach, trying to help somehow to get her through the contraction.

"Amor, I'm just gonna run into the kitchen and grab something, okay?"

(Y/n) barely heard him and she tried not to cry when Eddie slowly dragged his arm out of her hold and unravelled from around her. When his footsteps hurriedly vanished into the kitchen, (Y/n) moved around a little. Her eyes remained closed while she moved son she was kneeling in front of the chair better, both hands scratching across the pillow at the side of the armrest.

She dragged the cushion down to smother her face against it, letting out deep breaths and grunts as her body started to quiver.

Her body relaxed just a little and she sank further down on her knees that were starting to feel glued to the floor when Eddie crouched down behind her. His hands found her shoulders and his lips attached to the side of her flushed neck, peppering kisses up and down before he leaned round to kiss her cheek.

"Baby, do you think we can sit you on the chair so I can take a look at you?" Eddie squeezed her shoulders while he pressed his chin into the crook of her neck causing shivers to rush through (Y/n)'s nerves.

"Hm?"

"I just want to examine you, see how far along you are so I know what to do when Buck gets here."

"O-okay,"

Eddie figured his wife would have agreed with anything he said, he could see the hazy look in her eyes that made him wonder if she was in her own little world right now. He kissed her cheek again before he looped his hands beneath her arms and slowly pushed up to his feet, lifting (Y/n) with him so he could take her weight for her.

He could see the effort it took (Y/n) to turn and slump down into the chair and once she was sat down, (Y/n) clearly didn't feel comfortable at all.

A broken cry left her lips as her hands clawed at the arms of the chair and she tried to shimmy down causing her head and shoulders to slide down like she was melting on the spot. Her teeth sank down into her lower lip, her eyes fell closed and her bare feet scraped against the floor to keep herself steady when Eddie gripped her knees to stop her moving any further. If she kept going she would slide right off the chair and onto his lap.

He mumbled a quiet "Can I?" and dipped his fingertips into the waistband of the shorts she had stolen from his chest of drawers.

(Y/n) nodded weakly and tried to lift her hips so Eddie could drag them down her thighs. This felt like a strange position for them both to be in, but (Y/n) kept her eyes closed and focused on Eddie's left hand that smoothed across her thigh to try and keep her calm and comfortable.

But the moment she felt him sigh against her knee and shake his head, (Y/n)'s watering eyes snapped open and she nudged her leg against his chest. Silently asking him what was wrong.

"You're more than six centimetres dilated… baby, I- I can't take you to hospital-"

"What? No, no I'm not- you have to! Eddie, baby, please-"

"Mi amor, I can't risk getting you in the car and something going wrong, you could have the baby in the car. When Buck gets here we'll call for an ambulance, but I can't risk it. I'm sorry, amor."

When a horrible, broken cry left (Y/n)'s lips, Eddie pushed up to crouch between her thighs. His hand reached around to cup the back of her neck and he leaned her forward so he could attach his lips to her burning temple. He pressed repeated kisses against her flushed skin, quietly humming and shushing against her skin.

He couldn't get (Y/n) into the car when there were accidents happening all over town and the roads were a mess. If they got into a crash they would be stuck in lumber. If (Y/n) had a complication Eddie had nothing around him and no way of helping her.

But if he and Buck called the paramedics and stayed at home, they had water, towels, scissors, pain relief and an advanced medical kit, curtesy of the fire department. Eddie had more at hand here at home and a safer chance of delivering their baby safely than trying to get down to the hospital.

"I can't!" (Y/n) wailed into Eddie's chest, her broken voice cutting right through to his heart making him shiver.

"Yes you can. I'm right here, and Buck won't be long. I'll get you through this, baby, I promise. I'll take care of both of you. Do you trust me?"

(Y/n) sniffed and managed to nod her head when Eddie tilted his head down to their gazes interlocked and their foreheads pressed together.

He knew what he was doing. He and Buck had delivered their fair share of babies on shift and Eddie had been there for Chris's birth. They would try and get the paramedics here, but for now, (Y/n) would have to make do with Eddie. He was going to be the best person for this situation because he knew how to deliver a baby and he was the only one she would trust. And the fact that he knew (Y/n) like the back of his hand was an added bonus because he knew all the knacks and ways to calm her down.

He would look after her.

"Good girl," He tilted her head back enough to press a wet kiss to her lips before he moved back to crouching between her thighs. "Now, let's see how they're doing, hm?"

(Y/n) did her best to resist the urge to slide down to her knees on the floor again and her hands moved back to grip the arm rests to try and keep herself in place. She fidgeted and shimmied from one side to the other, trying to ward off the discomfort and bite back a cry of agony when it felt like her muscles were being twisted into knots.

Her weary eyes followed Eddie as he knelt down on the floor with her knees pressing into either side of his chest like she was pinning him in place.

She watched him spin round and grab the stethoscope he had brought through from the kitchen. She wasn't too sure why they had one of those lying around the house, but it was something Eddie seemed to have in the medicine cupboard and (Y/n) never questioned it.

Apprehension flooded her stomach when Eddie pressed the cold stethoscope against her exposed stomach and his thumb absentmindedly started to glide across her skin. She shifted her gaze up to Eddie's eyes that were intently glued to her stomach and his head leaned to one side as a soft grin curved at his lips.

"They sound okay in there," He murmured softly before he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against the top of her bump.

Eddie unhooked the stethoscope from his ears and placed it back down on the table before he spun back round and curled his hands around (Y/n)'s thighs when she groaned. Her back pressed into the chair and her eyes snapped closed as she pressed her chin down into her chest and moved one hand to hastily grab his forearm.

The contraction must have been worse than the others because Eddie felt like she was going to break his arm with her grip and he hated to see her choking down a scream. He knew she was trying not to make too much noise and frighten Chris.

He slid his hands up from her thighs to curve around her waist and his lips attached to her stomach as they waited for the pain to lessen.

"S'okay, you're doing great, amor." His fingers squeezed and glided up and down her skin in a soft, repetitive motion that (Y/n) could feel herself almost getting lost in. She moved her hand from his arm to cup the back of his neck as if making sure he didn't dare pull away from her yet, but he jumped against her when the doorbell rang.

Eddie could see it in her eyes that (Y/n) didn't want him to move. She didn't want to let go of him and his eyes creased as he tried to smile. He pushed forward between her legs until his abdomen was pressing into hers and he pressed a quick but searing kiss to her lips.

He brushed away the tears trickling down her cheek before he pushed to his feet and jogged to the front door.

"Right on time."

Buck smiled and dug his hands into his pockets with a raised brow. Had Eddie missed him? He had been less than an hour, all he did was pack a bag, get changed and grab a quick bite to eat and a drink before he hopped back in the jeep and came down here again.

"I am? Are we all ready to go?" He stepped inside when Eddie turned and beckoned him in, but he couldn't see any bags waiting to go. He had been expecting Chris to be waiting eagerly in the hall because he knew once Chris was told the situation he would be ready to go at the drop of a hat. But Chris wasn't ready, (Y/n) wasn't waiting either and Eddie didn't have any bags laid out to go.

"Change of plan, (Y/n)'s already in labour." Eddie cast a glance over his shoulder, watching the exact moment Buck's smile faded and his hands ripped out of his pockets.

"What? Oh, so, so we're going to the hospital?"

Eddie paused in the doorway to the living room and shook his head. He turned to face Buck with his hands on his hips and a worried expression written across his face.

"Buck, I don't wanna risk it. You saw the traffic, if we head out and get stuck or get in a collision, it's not worth it. She's almost dilated, I gotta call for an ambulance and prepare to have the baby here… and I'll need help."

Buck's eyes glanced around but the moment he noticed (Y/n), almost sliding off the chair onto the floor, clearly in agony, he nodded. They couldn't risk her and the baby's health trying to go out in this mess. Not without an ambulance or any equipment.

"Where's Chris?"

"In his room. Can you call an ambulance and wait with (Y/n) while I go tell him what's happening?"

"Sure." Buck patted his hand down on Eddie's shoulder before he jogged into the living room. A soft smile settled across his face and he perched down on the edge of the coffee table, wincing when he heard it groan beneath his weight. "How we doin'? I heard my godchild's gonna make an appearance."

A relieved look passed over Eddie's face before he headed into the living room and made a beeline for the little battery operated radio he had spied earlier. He pinched it and turned it off, that would do for Chris to give him some background noise and give the rest of them the ability to raise voices or rush around without worrying they would scare Chris.

He kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head and gave her shoulder a light squeeze before he made a quick exit down the hallway towards Chris's room.

This was going to be a strange conversation to have, and he knew it wasn't going to be easy or exactly fair on Chris, but there was nothing else they could do at the moment.

He rapped his knuckles on the door before slowly heading inside. Chris was still laid out on the rug and a bright grin spread across his lips when he looked up and realised Eddie was home. He scrambled up from the rug, arms open wide and he buried himself into Eddie's chest when he got up.

"Dad!"

"Hey bud, how you doing with no power, hm?" His lips pressed into Chris's curls and he stayed there for a few moments, breathing into his hair as he tried to regulate his system.

"It's okay… Is mum going to the hospital now? You said when her water breaks, the baby will come, and that's happened now, so…"

Chris tilted his head back and pressed his chin into Eddie's chest so he could stare up at him. There was that usual inquisitive look in his eyes that made Eddie's features soften and he found himself nodding while Chris tightened his arms around Eddie's waist. But he remained compliant as Eddie slowly walked him backwards towards his bed.

He nudged Chris until he perched on the side of his bed and Eddie moved to sit next to him, rubbing his hand up and down Chris's back in slow circles to keep him calm and stop him from getting too over-excited with this conversation.

"Yeah buddy, mum's gonna have the baby today." He dragged his free hand down his chin and around the back of his neck but his features softened into a grin when Chris squealed.

He clapped his hands and looked like he was going to start bubbling up on the spot, now full of excitement. He had been mulling about the house with (Y/n) her water broke and he knew what that meant, but (Y/n) told him it would take a long time. She said they would have to wait for Eddie to come home before they thought about going to the hospital and (Y/n) had done a good job of hiding the amount of pain she was in. So Chris hadn't been so sure the baby would come yet.

But knowing he was finally going to meet his little brother or sister was making him bubble up with excitement. He had already helped Eddie put the nursery together and sort the crib and the shelves. He had organised the teddies and clothes himself and he wanted to hold his sibling. He'd never held a baby before.

"Are we going to the hospital- does the hospital have power?" A panic-stricken look took over Chris's face and he clutched Eddie's hand.

What would they do if there was no power at the hospital? How would his mum have the baby? How would the other patients be looked after or put on machines or have operations with no power?

"They will have a back up generator, everyone there will be fine buddy… but we're not going. Mum needs help now, so I need you to do me a big favour."

"What?"

"We're gonna wait for an ambulance, but me and uncle Buck might have to help mum have the baby here. So I need you to be brave for me too. I've got the radio here for you, and you've got puzzles and books and this CD player uses batteries, so you can have your headphones in. But I need you to stay in here while mum has the baby, can you do that for me?"

Eddie motioned to the radio he had placed on Chris's bedside table, and his old CD player in the corner of the room.

There was a lot in here that Chris could do to entertain himself, he could listen to music, read his books or his interactive books. He could have the puzzle boxes if he wanted and he could watch a movie on his laptop if he had enough charge on it.

But he just had to remain in here. Eddie couldn't have him wandering out of his room and hearing the commotion in the living room or trying to help in any way. Chris had to stay in here until the paramedics arrived or (Y/n) had the baby, whichever happened first.

"Will she be okay?"

A tender look crossed over Eddie's eyes that were glistening with tears and his lips curled into a smile. He wrapped his arm around Chris's shoulders and pulled his boy into his chest so he could kiss the top of his head.

"I don't want you to worry, your mum's gonna be just fine. We've got this."

Eddie looked up when the door creaked and they both saw Buck stood in the doorway, his hands rubbing up and down his hips anxiously. He didn't want to intrude, but he was going to need Eddie's help now. He muttered a tender "It's happening," and ticked his head to the side.

"Alright, are you gonna be okay in here for a while?" When Chris nodded, Eddie kissed his temple again and handed him the radio which he turned on. He wanted Chris to have some music, whether that was background noise or his headphones so he wouldn't hear what was happening in the front room.

Once he was settled back on the floor with a book and the radio on loud, Eddie ruffled his hair and followed Buck out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.

"I'll grab some towels."

Eddie nodded, feeling Buck twist to go and get what they needed while Eddie jogged back down the hall when he heard (Y/n) choking out his name through a sob.

Tears poured down (Y/n)'s face that was laced with salt water and sweat that was causing her hair to stick to her forehead and around the sides of her neck. She could feel her body trembling back and forth as a cold sweat prickled on her skin, contradicting the way she felt like she was burning up.

A horrid scream of Eddie's name gurgled at the back of her throat and became morphed into the palm of her hand. She couldn't be any louder and risk Chris hearing and getting upset.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) pinned her chin into her chest as she dithered on the edge of the chair, desperate to collapse down on her knees. But she couldn't in case she felt stuck in that crouched position and couldn't get back up again. Her hands gripped the arm rests and her nails began to split through the fabric that was getting stuck beneath her fingernails. She couldn't do this for much longer.

Why did her body have to go into labour today? Why did the power have to go out specifically on (Y/n)'s due date? How was any of this fair?

When the contraction subsided, (Y/n) lifted her head and locked her hazy eyes onto Eddie's figure heading her way.

Deep, wheezing breaths past her lips and she feebly held her hand out when Eddie was close enough to reach for her. His fingers tangled with hers and he hurriedly crouched down beside her with his arms pushing down on the armrest.

"Oh, Eddie…" A quiet sob bubbled past her lips and she tried to balance her weight on her heels so she didn't tip too far forward.

"It's okay, you're doing great." He peppered a few kisses up and down her arm and reached around to rub his other hand up and down her back to try and coax her through the pain.

He kissed her shoulder before he turned at the sound of footsteps and watched Buck hurry back through. He placed a bowl of water down on the coffee table and slid the towels off his shoulders which he had collected ready and laid them on the table.

"I did call 911 but God knows when they'll actually be here, and I called Bobby too and told him what's happening." Buck and Eddie both knew not to hold out much hope for the ambulance arriving in time, but at least the team knew what was going on. Buck had to call, he couldn't leave Bobby wondering if the pair of them were trying to skive the afternoon off work or think they had got into an accident. And they were both secretly hoping the 118 might be directed here to help them.

"Alright amor, where do you want to be?" Eddie motioned his hand around the room as he spoke.

It was up to (Y/n) where she stayed to do this, but he could see clearly that she wasn't comfy here on the armchair. Eddie wanted- no, he needed her to be as comfy as possible because it looked like he and Buck were going to be delivering the baby here at home.

(Y/n) bit back the urge to say the hospital. That was where she actually wanted to be. They had planned to have the baby at hospital, with a midwife and equipment nearby in case something went wrong. Not here at home in the living room with Chris just down the hall and no power. No light, no hot water and less than full battery on each of their phones.

Her shoulders tensed up and she shook her head. She didn't know where she would feel most comfortable and she didn't know how to sit or if lying down would help. All she knew was that she was uneasy and this baby was coming now.

"What about the sofa?"

When she didn't object, Eddie pushed up and gently slid his hands beneath her arms and helped her up while Buck shoved the cushions and magazines out the way and laid a towel down on the sofa.

(Y/n) didn't have much feeling left in her legs when she slumped onto the sofa and felt her head spinning like she was on an amusement ride. She meshed her face into the back of the sofa and sat propped up against the armrest. And her knees coiled up to her stomach as she choked out a cry.

"Let's have a look," Eddie's voice was soothing as he sat down on the end of the sofa in front of her legs after drenching his hands in the water bowl. His hands ran up and down the back of her calves and he pecked her knee before he reached over for the towels. He placed one of the towels over (Y/n)'s knees that she brought up as close as she could to her stomach and another over his lap.

When Buck knelt beside her and held his hand out with a silent but sweet smile, (Y/n) shakily took the offer. She entwined their hands and held his hand close to her chest while her eyes focused on Eddie.

"You're crowning, I need you to push now baby."

(Y/n) began to shake her head as a round of trembling set in her system. She couldn't push. She didn't want to, she felt like she was burning up, about to explode and tear into little tiny pieces.

"I can't." (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and smothered her temple into the sofa, but she found herself trying to focus on Eddie when he kissed her knee and inched closer towards her legs.

"Yes you can, you're so close."

"This kid really wants to meet us." Buck gave her hand a squeeze and leaned up on his knees to be level with (Y/n) a bit more.

Eddie's name tore from her lips, along with a broken scream as she pushed forward and she felt Buck place a cushion behind her for support and to prop her up a bit better. She couldn't keep her eyes open and instead pressed her face into the back of the sofa, doing her best not to scream too loud and alert Chris. She could feel Eddie murmuring "That's it, keep going." Against the inside of her thigh as he moved the towel.

"Head's out, amor. Short breaths and pushes now, okay?"

(Y/n) could see stars twinkling in front of her eyes when she tried to look at her husband and all the blood seemed to pool in her feet until she was close to blacking out. She coiled Buck's arm higher to her chest and she felt his palm pressing down against her back to keep her steady as she started to shake.

"You're doing great, let's meet this little guy," Buck could barely feel his hand anymore, but he didn't mind. He let (Y/n) squeeze until his knuckles were white and close to bursting through his skin and he gently reeled her away from the sofa so she was leaning towards him instead.

"Good girl, you've done it. Hey, we've got a little girl here." Eddie pressed a flutter of kisses against her thigh while he tried to stop his arms from trembling so he could sit up straight, pulling their daughter close to his chest.

Eddie carefully but firmly ran his hand up and down the newborn's back until a tender cry left her lips. His thumb hooked over her tiny lower lip so he could check her airways weren't partially blocked before he swaddled the towel around her and looked over at the table.

With his girl held in one arm, Eddie reached out for what Buck had put on the table for make shift clamps. The clipped them both onto the cord before he looked over at Buck.

"Wanna do the honours?"

Buck's jaw hung loose and he looked between them both until Eddie nodded and (Y/n) grinned tiredly. He could cut the cord, he had stayed with them and helped deliver her after all, it was only fitting.

He quickly washed the scissors he'd found in the kitchen as best he could before he cut the cord.

(Y/n) could feel tears drenching down her face when Eddie leaned over her and carefully eased their girl down onto her chest. She could barely hear her cries from the static pulsing through her ears but she could feel those tiny hands batting down on her chest and the cries vibrating through her chest.

A breathless, wet laugh left her lips as Eddie reached his hand around to brush his fingers over the back of their daughter's head.

"She has impeccable timing." He murmured softly before he pushed up onto shaking legs that felt like they were made of jelly. He bypassed Buck and moved to squish down onto the sofa behind (Y/n).

It was clear to see she was happy he had sat there because she slumped back against his chest and let her head drop onto his shoulder. While Eddie looped an arm around the back of her shoulders and slid his other arm over hers to reach up for their little girl.

"Do you want me to go tell Chris?" Buck could barely get to his feet but he couldn't wipe the smile off his face either.

Eddie murmured a soft "Are you ready?" against the top of (Y/n)'s head because they both knew the moment someone told Chris, he would be bounding down here to see (Y/n) and get a glimpse of his little sister. He wouldn't wait in his room, once the news broke he would be out like an animal released.

(Y/n) nodded, letting her temple rest against Eddie's jaw while he kissed the top of her head and squeezed his arms tight around her. Moving his hand to brush his finger delicately across the newborn's cheek.

"Our little girl."

[p0orbaby]

She’ll Know Me Crazy, Soothe Me Daily

summary: you go into labour (leah’s version)

warnings: mentions of pregnancy and labour, who’d have guessed

a/n: i got a request for this and dropped everything at work to write it so if i get fired it’s your fault !

word count: 1.8k

-

It’s three a.m., and you’re lying in bed in that half-dream, half-wake state, thinking about nothing and everything at once—plans, names, logistics, the strange feeling in your back, how Leah’s snoring sounds almost like a broken radiator. You’d drifted off earlier with the usual suspects on your mind—last-minute nursery tweaks, what it’d be like to actually meet this new person, how you’re supposed to keep them alive once they’re here.

Then suddenly you’re very awake. And aware. The kind of aware that has you blinking up at the ceiling, trying to gauge if you’re imagining this, if maybe it’s all just part of the anxious last-few-weeks-of-pregnancy weirdness. But no, no. It’s real. The sensation you’d ignored all night is now gripping you in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Your waters have broken.

You’re in labour.

In the midst of grappling with this sudden, primal realisation that your body is not only capable of this but actively doing it, your first instinct is to look to Leah. After all, this is the same Leah who can keep her head in the midst of a stadium of screaming fans, who’s always told you, right up until yesterday, that she’s “got this, babe.” The same Leah who’s been planning this night in her head like a military operation—bags packed, snacks labelled, an entire eight-page birth plan on the kitchen counter with sections highlighted in three colours. She’s got this.

You roll over and give her a shake. “Leah,” you hiss, breath short and tight, like you’re hoping the urgency will slip through the layers of her sleep.

She doesn’t stir. Instead, she mumbles something incoherent and continues snoring, entirely oblivious to the fact that you are, in real time, about to bring a whole new human into the world.

“Leah,” you say, louder now, and with a sharper jab to her shoulder. “Leah, wake up. My waters just broke”

This gets her. She bolts upright, eyes bleary and unfocused, looking around with all the awareness of someone woken up by a fire alarm. She has one sock on and her hair is falling out of her bun in every direction, sticking to her forehead in curls that make her look, for lack of a better description, entirely unhinged. What?” she blurts, looking at you like you’ve just told her the moon’s fallen out of orbit.

“I said, my waters just broke. I’m in labour”

She stares at you blankly, and then at the clock. “Now? Like…now, now?”

“Yes, now, Leah. That’s how it works”

“Oh… oh my god. Okay. Right.” She throws herself out of bed, hands flailing a bit in what could generously be called an attempt to find her balance, looking every bit like she’s just woken up in the middle of a burning building. She blinks, rubs her face, and then stares around the room with all the sharp focus of someone who’s lost all concept of time, place, and purpose.

She begins moving around the room, grabbing objects seemingly at random—a pair of your slippers, a half-empty water bottle, the book she’s been reading that she still hasn’t finished because every time she gets to a chapter break she’s distracted by some tangent or half-thought that spirals out of control. You watch as she picks up her phone, only to immediately drop it in a panic.

You try not to laugh. You fail, slightly, but she’s too distracted to notice.

“Hospital bag,” you remind her. “By the door”

“Right, yes. The hospital bag.” She says it with the blankness of someone who’s just been reminded of the existence of the universe itself. She nods emphatically, almost comically, and rushes out of the room, one sock on, one sock off, muttering, “Hospital bag. Yes. By the door. Got it”

For a few blissful seconds, she’s out of the room, and you can breathe, collecting yourself in the strange solitude. You can’t help but feel a strange, surreal amusement in the whole thing—after months of birthing classes, of Leah listening intently to the instructor, nodding along like she was studying for the final exam, of stacks of books and bookmarked articles and quiet reassurances that she’d be ready…she’s now charging through the house like a headless chicken, her panic almost louder than the quiet early-morning calm.

She’s back in less than a minute, looking absolutely horrified. “It’s… it’s not there”

“What do you mean, it’s not there?”

“I mean it’s not—by the door. I don’t see it. Did we…did we put it somewhere else?” She’s visibly panicking now, eyes wide and darting around as if the bag might materialise if she looks in enough absurdly irrelevant places, like the windowsill or behind the potted plant.

“It’s by the door,” you repeat, managing to keep your tone steady and encouraging, despite the fact that you’re, oh right, currently in labour.

“Right,” she says again, nodding in a way that looks almost mechanical. “Right, yes. By the door. Of course”

She’s off, scrambling out of the room with one sock half-off, muttering the word “bag” to herself like it’s some kind of holy incantation. The momentary peace of her absence gives you a moment to focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling in slow, measured counts, trying to recall the absurd number of hours you spent watching labour tutorials and wondering if any of that information will come back to you now, in the thick of it.

Moments later, she returns, this time clutching the bag triumphantly in one hand. Her face is a strange mix of pride and exasperation, like she’s just conquered Everest but is deeply unimpressed with the mountain.

“Got it,” she announces, as if the sheer act of retrieving it from the entryway deserves some sort of medal. She sets the bag down on the bed with an air of absolute finality, as though the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders.

You smile at her, keeping your voice calm. “Alright, love. Let’s get dressed and head out”

“Dressed,” she echoes, her face going blank again as if the concept of clothes is suddenly beyond her comprehension.

“Yes, Leah. Clothes. You might want to put some on”

For a long moment, she stares at the wardrobe as though it’s some kind of cryptic puzzle. Then, with an almost bewildered shake of her head, she pulls it open and begins pulling out clothes at random—a pair of jeans, a jumper she only wears when it’s freezing, and, inexplicably, a thick wool scarf.

“Leah, it’s June”

She freezes mid-scarf-wrap, blinks, and slowly unwinds it. “Right, yeah. June. Good. Warm.” She tosses the scarf aside, looking faintly sheepish.

“Hang on… should I call someone? I feel like we should call someone. Do we… call 999? Or is that just for emergencies?”

“Leah,” you manage between breaths, “this is an emergency. It’s literally… labour. It’s happening right now”

“Right! Emergency.” She nods rapidly, like a bobblehead on overdrive, and jabs at her phone screen with so much intensity that it nearly flies out of her hand. She stops mid-dial, eyes wide with panic. “Wait. No, no…maybe we just drive there? Or do they… do they send someone?”

You look at her, trying not to let your exasperation show through the mounting pain. “Leah, we’re just going to drive. We’ve been through this.”

“Right. Yes. Driving. Of course. I knew that.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to physically dislodge the panic, muttering, “I’m just—okay. Drive. Right. Okay.” She finally lets go of her phone and starts making her way toward the door, muttering things like, “Got it. We’ve got this,” in a way that sounds more like she’s trying to reassure herself than you.

But then she stops. Turns. Looks back at you, blinking in realisation. “Are you…are you alright?”

“I’m in labour,” you say with a thin smile, “so no. Not really. But let’s keep going”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.” She nods like you’ve just imparted some deep wisdom, like the words in labour contain ancient knowledge previously unknown to her.

By now, another contraction has hit, and you’re clutching the edge of the bed, breathing through it with every bit of focus you can muster. Leah watches, horrified, looking like she might faint just from witnessing the sheer audacity of labour itself.

“Should I… is there something I can… I don’t know, can I do something?” She’s hovering now, looking at you helplessly like she’s waiting for you to hand her a to-do list.

You grit your teeth, squeezing out a reply. “Just… breathe. With me. Okay? In… and out”

She takes a shaky breath, her hand rising and falling in time with yours as if synchronising her breathing might somehow keep you both tethered to reality. For a moment, it’s almost peaceful, the two of you breathing in unison, a strange little pocket of calm amid the chaos.

And then, just as quickly, the panic is back.

“Wait. Snacks. We’re going to need snacks”

“Snacks?” you manage, halfway between a groan and a laugh.

“Yes. For energy. They said snacks are crucial.” She’s already halfway to the kitchen before you can protest, practically flinging open cupboards and rummaging through drawers with the frantic energy of someone who’s just realised they’re on an episode of MasterChef and has thirty seconds left on the clock. She emerges with an armful of items that make absolutely no sense together—a banana, a bag of crisps, two protein bars, and, inexplicably, a tin of chickpeas.

You stare at the tin in her hands. “Leah, we’re not bringing chickpeas”

“They’re protein,” she says, with a ridiculous level of conviction.

You watch, trying desperately not to laugh as she rummages through drawers, muttering about water bottles and phone chargers and—god help you both—“emergency blankets.” She’s wearing one shoe, and her sock has somehow ended up on her hand, and she’s pacing so frenetically that she nearly trips over her own feet at least twice.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to corral her towards the door, where she stops suddenly, wide-eyed and visibly distressed.

“Wait!” she exclaims, her hand shooting out to grip your arm in sheer, abject horror. “The… the speaker for the birthing playlist!”

You stare at her blankly for a moment before realising that, yes, she’s referring to the hours-long playlist she’d meticulously curated in the months leading up to this moment—a mix of calming piano tracks, soothing instrumentals, and, inexplicably, a handful of 80s power ballads that she swore would “keep the energy up.”

“We… we don’t have time for the speaker, Leah”

She looks at you like you’ve just suggested abandoning a child. “But you… we planned it. I spent hours on Spotify—”

“We don’t need the speaker,” you tell her, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm. You’re at the door, shoes on, bag in hand, and if she doesn’t start moving soon, you’re fairly certain you’ll be having this baby right here in the hallway.

She stares at you, visibly torn, before finally nodding, reluctantly. “Right. No speaker. We can…we’ll improvise”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “We’ll improvise”

And finally—finally—she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and steps out the door, hand in yours, still muttering under her breath about the playlist, about snacks, about breathing techniques and birthing balls and god knows what else.

[brenwritesss]

𝐓𝐫𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: You see Paige after the livestream happened and the two of you get closer.

(Semi-sexual content ahead.)

It had been a couple weeks since you had gone to Paige’s place and the livestream happened. Since then, it had been awkward between you and Paige, considering you didn’t really know each other and now you were trending on social media. Paige had texted you multiple times, apologizing and you had to reassure her that it was okay. At first, you didn’t see it as a big deal since no one really saw your face. However, you didn’t really understand just how popular she was until you started seeing edits starting with an intro of the video of you and Paige on her bed. 

Paige and you really haven’t hung out since then, her being busy with basketball and traveling while you were trying to finish all your studies.

Currently, you were in your room trying to finish an assignment for one of your classes when a text notification popped up on your phone beside you. It was from Paige.

Yo can I come over?

Immediately texting back, you replied with a “sure” along with your dorm number. This is the first time she would ever be over at your dorm and you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

You took the time to clean up your room a little, putting away your homework and picking up any dishes or cups that were in your room.

A knock disrupted you. Walking over to the door, you let out a breath and opened it. “Hey,” Paige said, looking at you with her hands in her back pocket. She was wearing a UConn jacket and sweatpants.

“Hey,” you replied. “Come in.” You moved out of the way so that she could come in. Paige walked in and you shut the door.

“I know I keep apologizing but I’m so sorry for the whole livestream situation.”

You let out a small laugh and led Paige into your room. “Don’t even worry about it. It’s all good. It’s not like they know who I am. If anything, I’m sorry that it’s trending and you have to deal with this sort of stuff.”

Paige felt relieved in your response, as if weight was lifted off her shoulders. She sat down on your bed, grabbing one of your stuffed animals near your pillow and fiddled with it. “It’s actually really refreshing to hear you say that.”

“Really?” You sat down beside her.

Paige looked at you, her clear-framed glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of her nose. Her hair was in a low bun and she had on a beanie. All you wanted to do was lean over and kiss her, but you had to restrain yourself. “Yeah,” she said, “a lot of people don’t really think about how this kind of stuff affects us.”

You rubbed your hands on your thighs. “Well people should. I mean I get y’all are supposed to be like celebrities but you’re still human.”

Paige smiled at you, her eyes squinting in response. You thought the “eye-smile” she did was the cutest thing ever. It made you want to melt on the spot. Damn, you were starting to fall for her. “Thank you for saying that.”

It seemed like a long moment of just staring into each other’s eyes. When you and Paige had hung out in her room, moments like this had happened but this was different. Like the two of you were actually seeing each other for the first time. The sexual tension between the two of you had changed into something more emotional. And it intrigued you, making you want more. It made her want more too. However, it was a little overwhelming as this hasn’t happened to you in a while.

Paige’s eyes didn’t leave yours as she very slowly started to lean in, her face inching closer towards yours. A sudden bolt of fear shot through you and you turned your head away, making Paige look at you confused. You began saying, “so, how’s basketball been go-”

“Y/n.” Paige’s voice cut you off. Hearing your name coming from her mouth sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t look at her. “Yeah?”

“Look at me,” she spoke softly, her fingers coming up to your chin as she gently turned your head allowing you to both make eye contact again. She let go of your chin, leaving behind cold marks that made you long to feel her touch. “I feel things for you.”

“What kind of things?” you asked.

She slowly laced her fingers with yours, smiling. “I think you’re incredibly beautiful and I like the way we talk to each other. And when the live happened, I felt so bad, you have no idea. All I wanted to do was apologize to you. I realized that I want to get to know you more and that I like you.”

“You like me?”

“If it isn’t obvious already.”

“I feel the same way. You have this energy that draws me to you.” You held onto her hand and you could feel her leaning closer to you.

There was a small moment of silence before she spoke, “can I,” she started, “can I try something and you won’t freak out?”

“Depends.”

Paige chuckled. “Just trust me.”

You didn’t say anything as you waited for Paige to do something. She took your silence as permission to lean forward, lifting one of her hands up to your cheek. As she pulled your face toward hers, you felt fear but also excitement, as you had wanted to kiss her for a while but never had the courage to.

Paige closed the distance between the two of you as it started off slow, the both of you moving in sync. Something ignited in Paige that made her pick up the pace, her hand dropping from your face to your waist and pulling you closer to her body. The sudden movement resulted in a small groan from you which made Paige’s heart beat faster and her mind start racing. 

As the pace quickened, you grabbed her face, pulling yourself up from your seated position and straddled her lap. “Fuck,” Paige spoke against your lips, her hands running up and down your waist, sending shivers throughout your body as if her touch was electric.

“Paige,” you whispered softly into her and moved your mouth from hers to her neck, eliciting a small moan from her lips.

“Say,” she tried speaking in between moans. “Say my name again, princess.”

She could feel you smiling against her neck as you muttered, “Paige.”

“Holy fuck,” she breathes out. “Hearing you say my name is so hot.”

“Yeah?” You pull yourself away from her neck, taking a moment to admire the small marks you made along her neck.

Paige’s hands found themselves under your shirt, caressing the skin underneath. You melted into her touch. “I think this needs to be off,” she said, tugging at the fabric.

You pulled off her beanie that she was still wearing, throwing it to the side of your bed and then unzipping her jacket. She watched your every move, biting her lip as she admired you. “Only if this comes off.”

“Deal.” She let you take off her jacket which resulted in her pulling your shirt off, leaving her in a t-shirt and you in your bra. You both pulled each other closer at the same time, lips finding the other’s as you moaned into her mouth.

This time, she pulled away from you and found your neck. She sucked and softly bit down on your skin, leaving patches of red along your neck as she moved down towards your chest.

She flipped you onto your back, kissing up and down your chest and stomach, creating the softest sounds from you. “Paige, please.”

She looked up at you. “Please what, baby?”

You huffed, trying to find your voice. “I need you.”

“Where do you want me? Show me.” You grabbed her hands, guiding them down to your shorts, putting her fingers on the zipper. She unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts and pulled them off your body, taking in the sight before her. You suddenly felt self-conscious in her gaze but the way she let her hands slide up and down your thighs made you realize that you had nothing to worry about. 

Paige slid her fingers up your inner thighs and found themselves at your clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You shuddered at her touch, rolling your eyes back. “Paige, don’t make me wait.”

Paige smirked, moving her thumb in a slow circle, making you throw your head back. “Tell me how much you want me,” she said, her voice so deep it made the tension between you two thicker.

“I want-”

Paige’s phone went off, a call coming through. You sighed, frustration replacing that needy feeling you were embracing. Paige noticeably angry, took her fingers away from you and picked up her phone. “Fucking hell.”

You missed her touch and all you could think about was her fingers back on you, and the way she held your body. The way her hands fit your body. Paige answered the phone, “What do you need? I’m busy right now.”

“What do you mean we have practice right now?”

“Fuck, okay. Shit, why is he pissed?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there just give me a minute.”

She ended the phone and looked at you, an unreadable expression on her face. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. Coach is pissed for some reason and we had a practice that I forgot about so I have to go.”

You nodded, clearly frustrated while putting your shirt back on. “It’s fine. You’re all good.”

She moved toward you, kissing your forehead before grabbing her jacket. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You looked up at her. “Yeah, you better.”

She chuckled, grabbing your chin gently and kissing you. “You’re doing something to me, Y/n.”

[mysticmoosenger]

⋆｡⋆𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖 (pt 1) ⋆⋆୨୧˚

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⊹₊⁺⋆.˚ 𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊⊹.✫・゜・。.

and what are the odds? you send me a text…

synopsis: after a bad night out you run into a mysterious and sexy as fuck stranger outside the bar who offers you his lighter. the tension is obvious and although he could only exchange a few words with you before being dragged back inside, his brother slips you his number.

wc: 1.1k

themes: lots of tension, eventual smut, weed/joints, both in college, the bar sucks, choso cannot escape his big brother duties

pairings: choso x reader

a/n: this will be a several part series!!! I feel like I was wordy as fuck with this one. I love when fics have a lot of tension in the start but I cant wait to write out the smut for this hehe. so excited to be back and writing again now that im a senior in college and actually have some free time since im not cramming with gen eds. so excited to graduate.

˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚

●・○・●・○・●

The music was deafening at the bar, your friends were chatting amongst themselves, and your social battery was dying quick. Yes, you loved nights out, but you were also no where near drunk enough to be enjoying random sweaty blacked out strangers brushing against you. Your friends were all wasted and too caught up in their conversations to realize you had left. You originally thought that a few moments in the bathroom would be a decent option, but looking over at the line proved otherwise. You quickly feel around in your pocket to double check that you still have your ID and start slipping away from your group towards the back door. This wasn’t new for you, and you knew your friends would know exactly where to find you anyway.

Weaving through the crowd, your shoes sticking to the floor, you eventually push yourself to the back entrance. Even the door knob is sticky. You note to yourself how impossible it feels to do this sober as you grip the door handle and exit the hazy bar. As you make your way across the alleyway you pull out a joint from your back pocket and reach for the lighter in your bra.

As if your night couldn’t get more terrible, you realize that your lighter is no where to be found. You slump against the cold brick of the building next door as you debate just heading home early. Yes, it is only 11pm, and no, nothing could convince you that this could get enjoyable.

As you are pulling out your phone to send a quick text to your friends to let them know you would be heading home, the door opens again, the music filling the alleyway. You glance up, making eye contact with one of the most beautiful strangers you have ever seen.

His hair is dark and a bit disheveled, one of his spikey buns hanging loosely to the side, brushing against his pierced ear. His face is perfectly chiseled with a really hot tattoo across his nose. With messy black eyeliner framing his eyes, he looks back up after closing the door. The eye contact lingered for a bit longer than normal, causing you both to take an extra breath to collect yourselves.

He looks like he was in a bit of a rush, but he got quickly distracted after seeing you. He approaches you and you immediately feel a sharp throb head straight down to your pussy. He glances at the joint in your hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dark purple lighter.

“Need a light?”, he breathes, getting closer to you and offering it up. You reach out and take it, your hand brushing against his, sending what feels equivalent to a lightning bolt across your body. “This cannot be real…” you think, watching as he moves to lean against the wall beside you.

Internally, you are panicking. This beautiful man beside you, basically eye-fucking you? Are you dreaming? He looks you up and down, his glance lingering on your chest and collarbones, leading up to your neck and lips. He raises his gaze to make some of the most intense eye contact you have ever seen.

“Thanks, you saved me”, you say in what feels like a whisper, prying your eyes away from his to raise the joint to your lips, clicking the lighter. The wind was getting funneled down the alley, making lighting the joint basically impossible. He notices and gets closer, raising his hands to help block the wind. Taking your first drag, you can feel his intense gaze focusing on your face. You offer him a puff, which he accepts, his long slender fingers taking the now-lit joint from your hands. Wow… this man is angelic.

The addition of a peaceful high doesn’t do anything but make the obvious tension between you both even worse. He starts, “Have you been here before? I’ve never seen you, I’d probably remember if I have.”

You glance from his eyes to his lips that are busy breathing in the smoke, replying, “Only a few times, I prefer the bar closer to campus but my friends really like this one.”

He nods and raises his hand to your lips, holding the joint for you to take another drag. Fuck, this guy is so sexy. Before you can say anything else, the back door slams open, a shorter man with light pink hair and a stressed expression on his face quickly walks up to the handsome stranger.

He raises his eyebrows and scolds the man beside you, “Choso! Where were you going? You left me alone to deal with Gojo! Really man? He’s wasted and won’t stop taking shots and blowing his money on buying them for girls! Come on man!!”, grabbing him by the wrist and ripping him away from you.

While he was stressed and in a rush, it’s not like he could ignore the obvious moment of tension he had interrupted. After shoving Choso back through the door and into the crowd, he turns back and quickly asks, “What’s your number? Not for me, for my brother. I saw that all and I’m not one to cockblock.”

You blush at the acknowledgement and exchange phones with him, typing your number into his phone which was open to a previous conversation with Choso, followed by at least 10 frantic texts asking where he was. You hit send, your number going straight to Choso. The man nods and takes his phone back, giving you back yours, with a newly added contact. He nearly runs back inside, giving you a quick smile and wink before closing the door.

You feel starstruck for a minute, staring at your phone and turning to walk down the alleyway to the street. Before you can even look up, you get an immediate text from Choso, “hey, what’s your name?”

-

You unlock your apartment door and enter, still glued to your phone, rereading all of the texts exchanged in the past hour. Your blush is nearly taking over your whole body as you set your phone down on the counter to heat up something to eat.

After a few minutes you look back at the now bright screen with a notification that reads, “what are you up to tomorrow? coffee after class?”

The breath empties from your lungs and your cheeks nearly burn off as you type your response, “yeah I’d love to, does 6 at the library’s Starbucks work?”

˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚

a/n: hope u enjoyed that!! I love a lot of tension in fics, it makes the eventual smut sooooo much better. stay tuned for pt. 2! It’ll be up by the end of the week. lmk how u like the fic! my ask box is open as well for any other requests or comments!

[gurugirl]

Bad Morning

professor!harry x professor!y/n

A/N: Started writing this a few days ago and then I got a request just now that just went so well with what I was already writing and this pic is giving these vibes so... here is the result. + a little background if you're interested.

Summary: You run late to an important meeting with your colleagues and Professor Styles decides to punish you.

Word Count: 3650

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, spanking with a paddle, slight degradation, punishment, barely proofread

It really had been just a shitty morning all around. Your alarm went off on time but in your half haze of sleep, you shut it off instead of snoozing it and so when you finally did bolt out of your bed to get ready you knew you’d be late for your meeting.

You didn’t even have time to button up your shirt properly. Running to your car carrying your bags in one arm with your mug of coffee in your free hand sloshing all over the ground and a toothbrush stuck in your mouth you knew you looked like a maniac.

Speeding down the street to get to the university (you were lucky it was only a 15-minute drive) you found a hair elastic to pull your strands into a bun the moment you parked. You’d barely touched your coffee, well, most of it was on your skirt, and your toothbrush fell into the floorboard below your feet when you opened your mouth to curse at the slow driver in front of you.

Parking in the closest spot you could find you quickly smoothed your hair down and tied it back with the elastic, thankful that you’d even found one, and grabbed your bags before running at full speed to enter the building and run through the hallways toward the science labs where Mr. Styles and the rest of the science and tech professors were likely waiting for you.

Today was a big day. You would be settling on a plan for the range of your experiments and choosing which students to bring along the following week to the energy conversion laboratory in Colorado.

 “Ms. Y/L/N. How nice of you to finally join us.”

You rolled your eyes as you quickly sat down on the floor, dropping your bags down before you crossed your legs and raised your brows at your devastatingly handsome colleague, “Sorry. Bad morning.” Was all you could say as you dug your notebook out. You hated how attractive he was. That you noticed how well-built he was and how he carried himself like he owned everything around him. And as much as you hated it (mostly because he was such a dick) you often imagined him taking you into his office out of nowhere. Spanking you and spitting dirty words into your ears. You even imagined him slapping you with those ringed fingers and fucking you with what you were sure was a nice big cock.

Professor Harry Styles was quite intimidating, though. You and all the staff thought so. He wasn’t unreasonable but he was very strict. Your teaching and working style was totally opposite of his but since you were both in the same department, your paths crossed often. Daily. Which meant you had plenty of fodder for yourself late at night when you were alone.

You shook your head at your dirty thoughts.

You and the other science and tech professors were in the process of planning a huge trip to a specialty lab your university didn’t have. It would be a costly trip and the school was footing most of the bill after raising close to a quarter of a million dollars for the “excursion”.

Everyone spoke in turn with their ideas and shared which of their students they’d like to bring. Each professor would choose two students (of those who volunteered to take part in the trip and experiment).

You’d selected your two and then offered an idea about coordinating schedules for the experiments and taking turns. You opened your notebook and explained your thoughts based on the notes you’d taken, “So, then on the third day, the third group can follow the timeline we set in place for group number 1–“ you continued to rattle off timelines, and looked up at Harry who did not appear impressed by you at all. In fact, his glare had you forgetting for a moment where you were going with what you were saying and you paused briefly before finally finishing your thought.

The entire meeting went like that. Glares from the head science professor aimed at you, making you feel tiny and unwelcome. You were a new professor but you’d earned your spot and you weren’t going to let him intimidate you (except for in your fantasies). You’d apologized for being tardy and while it was unfortunate that you’d showed up nearly thirty minutes late to a very important scheduled meeting, what was done was done. You couldn’t go back in time and have a redo. Though, you wished you could.

Everyone stood up when Harry clapped his big hands together and indicated that the meeting was over. You had no classes that day, as it was Saturday (another reason you’d slept through your alarm because you’d been out the night before).

You stuffed your notebooks into your bags and stood up, pushing your glasses back up to the bridge of your nose after they’d slipped the tiniest bit. You also hadn’t had time to put your contacts in. Obviously.

And just as you were about to make a beeline for the door and get out of there before anyone could talk to you, you were stopped in your tracks when you heard the low baritone of Harry calmly speaking your name.

You turned to look behind you at the tall man and realized he was dressed quite casually in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt that said I love you, the love being a red heart balloon. It was cute. And it almost made him less intimidating. Almost.

“Yes, Harry.” You addressed him by his first name the way he had just addressed you by yours as you turned to face him. He was already taking long-legged strides toward you, his face set in a serious expression, just as it had been for the duration of the meeting.

You stood in your spot as three teachers left the room and Harry stood over you, “Come to my office.”

That was all he said. And it wasn’t a question, but rather a command, which honestly you were used to with him by that point.

Harry had been at the university for quite some time. His office was one of the nicer and bigger ones. You’d seen it before in passing but had never stepped in until that day.

“You were late today,” Harry spoke as he closed his door behind him and then made his way across his office toward you. He sat at the edge of his desk and crossed his ankles together.

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed. What was he playing at?

“Care to explain to me why you were so late to such an important group meeting?”

You blinked your eyes and began to sit in one of the chairs he had in front of his desk but he stood quickly and grasped your elbow, “I didn’t say you could sit.”

You looked down to where he was touching your arm and back to his face, “What are you doing?”

Harry pulled you to stand facing his desk and brought your arm down so your palm was flat on his desk, “Teaching you a lesson. If you want to survive being a professor at this university you need to learn discipline and respect.”

You turned to watch him as he stood behind you. You honestly were so confused by what was happening but when you looked at his eyes and noticed that he was dragging his gaze down your backside you stood up straight and removed your palm from the desk, “Mr. Styles! You are out of line. I was late, yes, but–“

He stepped in toward you, pressing his chest to your back, grasping your wrists, and making you place your palms back down onto the wood, “Do not move, Y/N. Not until I tell you to.”

He moved away from you and circled his desk to face you, opening a drawer with a key as he spoke, “We both know you have an attitude that needs fixing.”

You were suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed as your breaths deepened. Everything that was happening was straight out of your fantasy. It was as if you were writing this whole scene out from start to finish. You wondered where this was going. You were curious what he would do next.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open as you watched him lay a paddle across his desk in front of you.

“Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. Look at you,” he gestured to your haphazard buttoning job and you realized your bra was exposed as you looked down over yourself. You laughed and looked back up at him but his face was not amused.

“I was in a hurry. I’m sorry if this offends–“

“Please stop talking.” He lifted the paddle up and rounded his desk to stand behind you.

The sudden awareness of what was going on had your skin pimpling with goosebumps. You were wearing a knee-length skirt and realized that all he had to do was lift it to expose your bottom to him. Your white panties covered your bum but it wouldn’t be hard for him to paddle you right through the thin material.

As your thoughts grew lewder about what was coming and what Mr. Styles would do you squished your thighs together and adjusted your palms as you turned to look over your shoulder at the professor.

“I’m going to give you 30 paddles to your bottom. One for every minute you were late. How does that sound for a punishment?”

You inhaled deeply and looked down at the leather-wrapped paddle and back to his eyes. It was wild that he’d even suggest it all. And so casually too? But of course, you understood that he was asking permission. Perhaps this was the beginning of some sort of thing you and he would have in secret.

You nodded slowly, “Yes, professor. I think that’s fair.” You gulped down your saliva. You had never been spanked with a paddle before so you hoped saying yes was the right choice.

Harry grunted as he let his eyes drop to your ass and when you felt him pull at your skirt and lift it up ward you held your breath and closed your eyes, turning to face his desk again.

But the small little groan you heard from behind you had your eyes popping open. It sounded like the groan of a man who was turned on. Frustrated. You sure hoped that was the case.

“Can you keep quiet like a good girl?” His dark tone was pinched as you felt his warm hand brush over your ass before pushing the material of your skirt up to your waist.

“Yes, sir.”

The shuttered breath he let out as he groped your ass, palming at the material of your panties had your heart thumping hard under your ribs. He was enjoying this.

“Good.”

The suddenness of the first hit had you rocking forward quickly and yelping. You hadn’t been prepared for it. You’d been spanked with bare hands before. Not with a paddle.

“Shh… said you could be a good girl for me. One more outburst and I’ll stuff these panties into your mouth.”

You didn’t know why but that idea had you moaning softly and rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

The next strike you were prepared for. You gritted your teeth and panted as he brought it down again on the other side, “That’s three. From now on, I need you to count for me. Keep track so I don’t. have to.”

You breathed out heavily and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

4, 5, 6, 7… All within range of you being able to tolerate the pain and keep your little noises in.

But 8? For some reason 8 came down especially hard and stung like a mother fucker so you gasped and cried out loudly.

The paddle was suddenly placed on the desk next to your hand and you tilted your head to look at your colleague as he met your eyes. Blown-out pupils and puffy, bitten lips. He looked like sex. He’d always looked like sex but in that moment…

“Tell me what happens when you can’t keep quiet.” He leaned over you, one palm down on the desk, his other smoothing over the cotton of your panties softly.

You gulped hard and blinked the tiny bit of tears away that had formed in your eyes, “You said you’d stuff my panties into my mouth.”

“S’right. At least you know how to listen. Too bad you don’t know how to keep quiet.”

You nodded, “I’m sorry, sir.” You really didn’t want him to stop. It hurt but you loved the way it felt to have this man standing over you and spanking you. Watching you. Enjoying the view he had of you.

“So what should I do, then?”

You gasped when you felt his thumb push under the elastic of your panties and slip over your bottom, “Take my panties off and put them into my mouth. Like you said.”

Harry’s lips turned up into a sinister grin and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip before he nodded and moved behind you, both hands now in the elastic of your cotton panties as he dragged them down your thighs.

You felt him pause his motions and once your ass was fully bare to him. You were sure with the way you were leaned over his desk that he could see your pussy too.

“Fuck…” his words were whispered into the room before he gently tugged your panties the rest of the way down your legs and you stepped, one foot at a time to have them removed completely.

When his hands found your bottom you felt him massage your cheeks and suck in a sharp breath, “You okay?”

It was the first time he sounded as if he were truly concerned about you. Perhaps he could see the marks he’d given you with the paddle. Or maybe it was just that you were so exposed to him in that moment.

“Yes, sir. I’m fine.” Your voice was a little shaky. You were on edge completely. You’d be thinking about this tonight for sure, and for many nights to come. But you still hadn’t determined if it was even really happening.

Harry leaned over you and you felt the cloth of his pants brush against your ass, “Mrs. Y/L/N, you are absolutely soaked. Did you know that? Had to be careful pulling your wet panties down your legs and now looking between your thighs I can see how much you are enjoying this. Not much of a punishment is it?”

His deep voice traveled down the shell of your ear and to your neck as you softly moaned and shook your head, “No. It’s not much of a punishment. I like it.”

You heard him chuckle before lifting your messy panties up to your face, “Open.”

You complied as he shoved the cotton into your mouth and then returned to his position behind you.

“Since you can’t count for me anymore I’m going to do it for you now.”

The 9th swat came down and the sting of the paddle against your bare bottom made you yelp out, though it was nice and muffled just as Harry had hoped.

The progression of each of his swats only made you drippier and pushed you further away from reality. And as he counted, the higher the numbers rose, you could hear the lust and pain in his voice. He was putting himself on edge by just watching you squirm and get wetter and wetter between your thighs.

At number 21 you didn’t know what you were doing anymore. You needed to end your misery. Without much of a thought in your brain (you were hardly able to connect your thoughts together by that point) you removed one hand from the desk as you leaned forward further over the wood and spread your legs before you began rubbing your clit.

Harry stopped quickly and you heard the clunk of the paddle fall to the floor and then his hand was grasping your wrist, yanking it away from your pussy, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You felt fuzzy and so far beyond caring about anything but coming you moaned in muffled words as you tried to speak through your panties. You could barely open your eyes as you felt his hand on your chin to turn your face toward him.

“You are dirty, aren’t you? Naughty, dirty, disrespectful professor,” Harry pulled the panties from your mouth and you gasped softly, drool falling from your mouth over his hand that remained at your jaw.

“Is there no punishment that will set you right?”

His own face was flushed and his eyelids were heavy with lust.

You thought about his question but you had no answer for him. You couldn’t put your thoughts together to form a sentence even if you wanted to. You moaned and reached a hand for his forearm as you turned your body toward his, causing your skirt to fall and cover your bits.

Harry pulled you in close and pressed your bottom into his desk, spreading your legs and lifting your skirt back up to expose you to him. He kept his eyes on yours as he used his free hand to softly swipe at the damp skin just next to your pussy. You bucked your hips into his hand and he laughed, “And desperate too.”

The hand he had at your jaw smushed your cheeks together harshly, “And because I’ve been so good I think I deserve a treat. Don’t you?”

You moaned again and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

He grunted as he moved his hand from your face and began to unbuckle his pants. You looked down to where his cock was clearly engorged and pushing against the material of his pants, He got his zipper down and found his way back between your thighs, pushing you down flat to your back, “Can I have a treat?” He thumbed at your clit as he looked into your eyes and you nodded, “Yes. Please.”

“You sure? Because I have something very specific in mind. Want to know what it is?”

Nodding your head you reached for the collar of his t-shirt and pleaded with him, “I want to know. Please…” you hoped he’d fuck you. Hoped he’d rail you right on his desk just as you often imagined him doing.

He laughed darkly as he pulled his briefs down and his cock came in your view. He began stroking himself right over you, using his foreskin to pump his cock quickly and upward over his tip, repeatedly yanking and pulling as he looked from your pussy to your face, “This is my treat. Gonna fuck my fist and come all over your pussy.”

You watched in awe. His long cock and his fist jerking himself was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You groaned and bucked your hips upward, “Please, Harry…” you whined.

Harry had one palm flat on the desk as he kept himself angled over you, his cock above your pussy, so close but not close enough for your liking. You wanted him inside of you.

He laughed as he continued pulling at his shaft and he began to pant his next words, “Not gonna fuck you because that would be a nice treat for you too. And you’ve been naughty, Y/n. So you don’t get my cock.”

You scrunched your brows together with a pout and brought your own hand down to your clit and moaned. Harry gasped as he neared his end but slowed his pumping as he slapped your hand away from your pussy, “You don’t get to come. This is your punishment,” he grunted as he got back to fucking himself with his fist.

You watched in awe as he began to slightly tremble and his soft moans got more frequent.

And just as you heard him cough out one loud moan you knew he was coming before you even felt the first drop of come spurt over your pussy. You took the moment to swipe his come up and your arousal and lift your fingers to his mouth, shoving your digits past his lips as he poured his hot sperm all over your wet pussy and down your thighs.

You moaned as he wrapped his mouth around your fingers, his palm still milking his cock, draining everything he had all over your labia. You felt his come drip down past your entrance and to your bum as he licked and sucked your fingers.

You’d never seen anything more erotic in your life. You wanted to come too but to watch him come on your pussy as he sucked on your fingers was worth it.

When he’d finally emptied everything he had he let go of his dick and you pulled your fingers from his mouth with a smirk on your face.

He pulled his pants back up and looked at the mess he’d made, “Guess you’re gonna have to go home and clean that up aren’t you?”

You sat up and watched him as he lifted your panties up and handed them to you, “Was thinking I’d just run to the bathroom first–“ “No. I want my come smeared all over your pussy and those panties full of your spit and your arousal. Want to know you had to sit in traffic all dirty and desperate.”

You scoffed but began to pull the panties up your legs anyway.

When you stood up and turned to look at the professor he was tucking his laptop into his bag, his eyes already on you, “Maybe next time, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come.”

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[artiststarme]

One day Steve notices that the kids have stopped trying to set him up with Robin and takes a sigh of relief. But then it occurs to him that they’ve stopped trying to set him up with any girls period. He expected to be relieved but instead, it just made Steve all the more wary.

The kids all come over for a pool party and spend a good hour and a half trying to convince Eddie to take his shirt off in the water and winking at Steve when their badgering finally succeeds. It occurs to Steve that the kids think he’s into guys, into Eddie in particular, and interested in seeing him with his shirt off. And holy fuck, it turns out he is.

After internally panicking and trying to avoid checking Eddie out for the rest of the pool day, Steve realizes that the kids knew he was interested in him before he did. This prompts an sexuality crisis, rethinking his entire life, and avoiding eye contact with everyone while he tries to sort through everything. It takes a few days but then Steve goes on like nothing happened.

Unfortunately for the kids, their meddling doesn’t seem to move anything along. Steve and Eddie only get together two months later when Eddie wears a tank top with his scars on display and hair in a bun that Steve finally breaks. He asks him out, hardly hears Eddie say yes, before he bolts to tell Robin and the kids that he finally landed Eddie Munson.