#when it was all just a sparkle in the eye of the show

[yelenasbraid]

JOE BURROW — save a horse, ride a quarterback

summary — It’s show season, which means every other weekend she’s competing. It means everyday she’s at the barn. It also means less time with her boyfriend.

warnings — fem!equestrian!reader, angst, fluff, equestrian lingo, third person (she/her), language, SMUT (sub!joe, p in v, MDNI)

requested by — pookie bear arch 🫶🏼 @starsinthesky5

tags — @burrowdarling @joeburrowshaircurl @joeyfranchise @ebsmind @kazsbrckkers @blairsworld22 @iosivb9 @softburrow @joeyburrrow @wickedfun9 (comment/send an ask if you wanna be added!)

note — it’s a long one oops also WEC is the World Equestrian Center in Ocala Florida :)

SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. 5 hours a day. The stables saw more of Y/N than Joe did. During football season, it wasn’t bad. Y/N showed when Joe played. Now that football was over, Joe was starting to notice just how much she was gone.

And how exhausted she was when she got back.

She walked through the door, the soft click of the door echoing through the still walls of her home. Her muscles ached, her brain was fuzzy; she just wanted to shower and sleep. Training for this show, the biggest show of her career, took every ounce of energy out of her. Consistency was key, but it left Y/N exhausted.

She shuffled through the house, running a hand down her face. She needed a shower, desperately. She smelled of sweat and horse, which to her was a comforting scent. It reminded her of home. She didn’t think Joe would appreciate it.

Joe padded down the stairs as he heard the door shut. His eyes sparkled; this is the first time he’s seen his girlfriend since that morning. Her breeches clung to her legs, riding socks stained with the black of her riding boots, and her long-sleeve quarter-zip compression shirt hugged her curves and her muscles. Joe thought it was the sexiest thing he could see her in, but the expression on her face made his desire deflate.

“Hey,” he hummed softly, catching her attention. She slid her tired eyes up to him as he walked further into the kitchen. He looked comfortable, his sweats clung loosely to his hips, his oversized t-shirt hung loose around his shoulders. His skin was golden and flushed, and if she had the energy, she’d grab a taste of him.

“Hey,” Y/N pursed her lips into a thin smile, filling up her water bottle at the fridge. Joe stepped closer, gently wrapping his arms around her middle from behind her. Y/N sucked in a breath, his lips peppering kisses to her neck. She smelled of hay, horses and sweat. He could also point out traces of her perfume she put on that morning.

“How was the barn?”

“Fine,” Y/N sighed, “coach made me do the same course 5 times because Izzy kept getting too excited,” she finished filling up her water bottle with an exasperated sigh, gently tugging herself from Joe’s grasp. He sighed, feeling the cool air of the kitchen return to his skin.

“What was she doing?” Joe asked, leaning against the island as she screwed the top of her water bottle back on. Isabella, or Izzy, was her horse. Joe’s met Izzy loads of times, and the mare was as sweet as can be. Cuddly, stubborn as hell, but cute.

She reminded him of Y/N.

“She kept running at the fences,” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. Izzy had that habit, rushing the fences, making each jump sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Then, she wouldn’t calm down enough to trot, so I had to use all the power in my shoulders and my abs to force her,” Y/N continued. Joe could see she was frustrated, he could also tell she was sore. She leaned over the counter, placing her forehead on the island.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Joe hummed. He genuinely was. He knew what it was like to have frustrating practices, to not be able to do his job effectively before a game.

“It’s fine,” she sighed, running a hand over the messy, sweaty bun she’d thrown her hair into after her lesson. She grabbed her water bottle, taking a hefty sip before she started for the stairs. Every muscle in her body ached, every bone protested every movement.

“Babe-”

“I’m gonna get a shower,” she hummed, not turning to face him as she walked up the stairs. Joe’s eyes rounded, his steps light as he followed her, like a lost puppy.

“Can I join you?” he asked, a spark of hope in his voice. He wasn’t just looking for sex, he just wanted to be close to her. He wanted to help her relax, to embrace her. It’s been a while since the two of them had been intimate, and while sex wasn’t everything in their relationship, he missed her. He missed having her in those sinful, lustful ways. He missed the days just lounging on the couch. He missed laughing with her, playing Mario Kart on the TV.

“Joe,” she sighed, reaching the top of the stairs, “no, not tonight,” she shook her head as she headed towards their shared master bedroom. Joe’s heart sunk, and not just because he wasn’t getting sex, but because he wasn’t spending time with her. He knew that after her shower, she’d go straight to bed. That’s how it’s been for the past few weeks.

“Ok,” Joe nodded. He sounded like a kicked puppy, his bottom lip sticking out as he watched her retreat into the bedroom. He ran a hand through his damp curls, frustration and a twang of sadness tightening his chest.

He missed his girlfriend and she lived under the same roof.

a few days later

Joe’s eyes darted around the street, his eyes covered by the Cartiers that adorned his face. The warm sun of Cincinnati heated his skin, but he barely felt the warmth as he waited for his girlfriend to join him for lunch.

He’d texted her that morning, before she got too busy at the barn, asking if they could do lunch at a cafe downtown. It made his heart clench he even had to ask that, but he was just grateful he got a chance to see her.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, Jen had me working horses this morning,” Y/N sat down, out of breath, snapping Joe out of his stupor. Jen was her coach, and she usually always had Y/N working horses.

“Don’t apologize, I just wanted to spend some time with you,” Joe shrugged. His heart swelled at her smile, the flushed cheeks. She was beautiful, sweaty and all.

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s been crazy trying to get ready for this show in Florida,” Y/N hummed, taking a sip of her water, which Joe had ordered for her already.

“I know it has been,” Joe smiled, grabbing her hand and running his thumb along the back of her knuckles, “but let’s not think about that,”

Y/N smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. She knew that she’d been at the barn every day for hours. She knew that she was neglecting time with Joe, and she felt it too. The small gesture of his hand in hers, the way it sent shivers down her spine, it proved that. Guilt ate at her nerves, her stomach knotting as she thought about all of the times she’s avoided his touches, avoided being with him because of a show or a lesson.

Like she was doing now. Checking her watch for the time.

“Y/N,” Joe called, snapping her from her stupor.

“Hm?”

“You’re not listening,” Joe sighed. He was trying to talk to you about some new video game he saw that he wanted to play with you one evening, but you didn’t seem interested.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was talking about how there’s a new Mario Kart releasing tomorrow,” he hummed, shaking his head, feeling his chest tighten, “just saying that I’d like for you to play it with me,”

“There’s a new one?” Her face lit up, and Joe’s heart soared. She was paying attention. She wasn’t thinking about the show at WEC.

“Yeah, they added some new characters too,”

“No way,”

“Yes way,” he smiled, feeling like this was normal. She checked her watch, again, and she had about 5 minutes until she had to leave. Her leg bounced, and Joe sighed with disappointment. He just wanted to spend time with her, and while he understood the need to practice, it didn’t mean he was ok with it.

“You have to leave,” Joe stated, his voice monotone with threads of disappointment. Y/N looked up at him, her guilt swimming behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby, really,” she hummed as she stood, walking over to him. She pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, the touch sending shivers down his spine. He wanted more of that, more of her touch, more of her.

“I get it,” he sighed, adjusting his seat, “I do, just come home safely,”

“I will,” you promised, grabbing your things.

“I love you,” he called, like it was his last line of defense.

“Love you too, bubs,”

later that evening

Y/N walked in the door that evening, her muscles sore, hay and grime sticking to her skin. She shut the door with her back, an exhale leaving her lips. The house was quiet, for the most part. She heard shifting above her, the soft thuds of her boyfriend’s feet as he made his way down the stairs.

She kicked off her beat up, old sneakers she used only for the barn, and shuffled into the kitchen. Her feet left sweaty imprints on the hardwood floors, but Joe didn’t seem to care.

“Y/N,” his voice was stern, and she flicked her eyes up to meet his. There was a different expression on his face, his eyes were hard, but there was something else that sat behind his cold facade: need.

“Baby, I know it’s late, I’m sorry I-”

“It’s not the time, Y/N,” he stopped her, his voice gentle. Joe thought about it all day, about how to talk to her. Being an equestrian was important to her, and he respected that. He didn’t have a single issue with her commitment to the sport.

“Then what is it?”

“I barely see you,” he started slowly, his hands softly slapping against his thighs, “I know you’re committed, determined, and damn good at what you do, but I wanna see you too,” he sounded desperate, his words dripping with the need he had for her. He stepped closer, observing the way her cheeks were flushed, how her lips were pink. Her muscles strained against the compression shirt she wore, her breeches hugging her thighs.

“I know I know,” she huffed, taking a deep breath. She wasn’t completely unaware of how little she’s seen Joe. She was reminded of that every time she came home, or every time he’d tell her something that happened she didn’t know about.

Joe stepped closer, bringing up his hands to cup her face. Her skin was warm, slick with a thin sheen of sweat. He stared into her eyes, catching the mirrored expression of need. It was fleeting, but it felt like it was the first time he’s seen such an expression from her in days.

“Y/N-”

“I need a shower,” she cut him off, pulling away from his grasp. He sighed, letting her trudge up the stairs. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his chest tightening with further disappointment. He just wanted to spend time with her, to touch her, to feel her, but he felt like she was avoiding him. Why? Why was she avoiding him?

He trudged up the stairs, running a hand through his damp curls. He shuffled into their bedroom, hearing the shower running. He sat down on the bed, scooting his back against the headboard. He picked up the book on his nightstand, attempting to read, but his thoughts kept going back to her. She was his girlfriend and he’s barely seen her. He saw her for maybe a total of an hour that day. Maybe. His nostrils flared, his hands clenched as he put the book down. He would do anything to have her. Anything.

The water stopped, and his eyes were glued to the bathroom door. He waited, his chest rising and falling. He didn’t know what it was about that night, but his need for her flared uncomfortably in his body. He felt an ache down in his cock, and he adjusted his sweats accordingly.

The door opened, and she stepped out. Steam billowed out from the bathroom, enveloping her in warmth. She towel dried the ends of her hair as she stepped into the bedroom, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. Joe’s eyes raked over her body, taking her in. Her thighs glistened with the remaining droplets of water, her muscles contracting with every step she took. His eyes stayed glued to her thighs and the curve of her muscles, feeling his mouth moisten.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. She watched him as she hung the towel back up, observing the hints of desire that swam in his eyes. She knew it had been a while since either of them indulged in each other, but the soreness of her muscles reminded her that she couldn’t take it tonight.

“Don’t give me that look,” she hummed softly as she walked over to her side of the bed. Joe’s eyes followed her, his heart skipping a beat as he watched her shorts ride up as she got into bed. Her damn thighs.

“What look?” He asked innocently, feeling his cheeks warm.

“The one you’re giving me right now,” she hummed, “like you wanna fuck me in my pajamas,”

“You want me to be honest?” His heart slammed in his chest, his body shaking with his next words. He was nervous, and he didn’t know why. Well, he did. Technically.

“Of course,” Y/N sat on top of the covers, crossing her legs under her, watching him. There was something about his body language that was different. His eyes were round, his face flushed, and his pink lips were parted with the small pants leaving his lungs. She tilted her head to the side, slowly putting the puzzle together.

“Practice,” he started, swallowing thickly; he shouldn’t be nervous, “practice on me,” Joe finished. He had a hopeful look in his eyes, and he hoped that Y/N would get it. She did, but she wanted him to spell it out. She adjusted her body, facing him, scooting closer to him.

“Practice?” she hummed, one of her hands slowly grazing across his stomach under his shirt. His breath hitched, the tickle her nails gave him made his cock strain against the fabric of his sweats.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, his skin twitching with her touches. Y/N hummed, feeling rejuvenated. She didn’t know that this is what Joe wanted, that he wanted her to practice on him. To ride him. All of a sudden, the days she’s gone without being touched, without sex, it caught up to her. Her pussy throbbed, her muscles ached for a different reason. Y/N moved to straddle his waist, and Joe’s breath hitched. His mind was racing, his heart slamming against his chest. His hands rested on her thighs, running his hands up and down the taut muscle. She leaned down, hovering her lips above his.

“You want me to ride you, huh,” she hummed, peppering kisses to his jawline. His hands gripped her thighs, pushing the legs of her shorts up, his hands cupping her ass.

“Please,” he whispered. Joe was rarely ever like this, submissive. He was desperate for her, and his desperation built and built until it snapped into utter submission. He’d do anything just to have her.

Y/N hummed against his skin, rolling her hips against his. She could feel his erection against her, and she gasped. Joe’s breaths were strangled as his hands slid down to grasp your hips, his body arching up into hers. As she ground against him, his cock brushing against her pussy through the fabric of her clothes, he couldn’t help but release a strangled moan. White hot electricity cascaded down his body, shocking his every nerve. His hands kept her hips moving, desperately needing to bury himself inside her, to feel her warm walls clench around his cock.

“Y/N,” he moaned. His desperation, his pleas, they were fuel to her ever-building fire. She smirked as she sucked at his neck, scooping her hips against his. One of his hands ventured up her shirt, cupping her breast. Even though she wanted to take this slow, draw this out, the need that's built up for days wouldn’t allow for that. She parted from his neck, stripping off her shirt. His lips immediately latched onto her breast, his tongue rolling over the beads of her nipple. She moaned, the feeling of his lips against her skin electric. She didn’t realize how much she missed this until she had it again.

Joe moved his lips to her other nipple, giving it the same attention, swirling his tongue around her. His hands tugged down the hem of her shorts, and as he pulled away her nipple, his blue eyes round and begging, she lifted her hips. She slid off her shorts, and while she did that, Joe slid off his shirt.

“I’ve missed you,” he groaned as his hands wrapped around her middle, bringing her closer. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing her softly on her skin. His hands roamed her back, moving up and down her skin. His kisses sent aches down her body, increasing her need for him, making her pussy throb with the arousal that oozed out of her.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she panted as she ground against him. Her hands drifted down to the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down. Her fingers against his skin sent bolts of electricity through his body. He shuddered against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin.

“I need to feel you,” he moaned, parting from her neck. He slid his sweats off, and as he did, your eyes met his hard cock. It was red, sensitive with the arousal that ached in his gut. Precum pooled at his tip, slipping down the base of his cock. It made her mouth water. She leaned up, kissing him against his lips, rolling her bare pussy against his cock. Both of them moaned, their lips stuttering as they kissed. Joe’s hands held onto her hips while his tongue dipped into her mouth, inhaling deeply through his mouth. Her slicked pussy ran along his shaft, the friction against her clit making her gasp and moan.

She reached between them, grabbing ahold of his cock and lining him up with her entrance. With her lips still on his, she slowly sank back onto his cock. She shuddered, her whole body tensing as she took more of him, as he stretched her walls. She sat up, her hands bracing against his shoulders. It felt like coming home, warm and filling. She closed her eyes as she slowly swiveled her hips, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Joe forced his eyes to stay open. He wanted to see her, he wanted to watch her ride him. He watched as she swiveled her hips, the feeling of her walls around him making his fingers dig into her hips.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he exhaled, “baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, his hips bucking into hers. It kick-started something, a primal need for her to go faster, to feel him thrust in and out of her. She adjusted her stance, and she started riding him. She scooped her hips, the friction of his cock embedded in her pussy making her moan. Her hands gripped her shoulders as Joe’s hips bucked to meet hers, not being able to hold himself back. His hands slid to her thighs as she quickened her pace, feeling her quads contract with every movement she made. He panted, throwing his head back, his fingers squeezing her muscles.

Groans spilled from his lips, the friction that electrified his muscles from her movements making him see stars. It fulfilled his needs, his ultimate desire for her. He kept his hands on her thighs, his head thrown back in pleasure.

“You look so good baby,” she hummed as she leaned forwards, still scooping her hips and bouncing on his cock, “so good for me,” she whispered as she kissed his neck, barely able to make contact with the pleasure that raked down her muscles.

The room heated, tense with the need that coursed between them. The days without touching each other, without being with each other in the most intimate ways, it caught up to them. Her movements became desperate, chasing the building release deep within her gut. Joe’s hands slid up to her hips, guiding her movements, thrusting his hips up to meet hers.

“Baby,” she moaned, and Joe knew. He knew her like the back of his own hand. The way she tensed, the way her body’s movements stuttered with the heat that pinched her clit.

“I know baby, I know,” he panted, his hands gripping her hips. He groaned, thrusting into her, his movements desperate and needy. His cock twitched inside of her, the ache building and stretching down to his tip. Both of them were impeccably close.

Her moans grew incessant, thick with lust and her building orgasm. She tensed, the frayed coil in her gut snapping. She gasped, her orgasm spilling over her. Joe watched as her orgasm spilled from her, littering his skin, warm and sticky. He moaned, throwing his head back as he thrusted one, two, three times before hit spurts of cum filled and coated her walls. She arched her back, her body on beautiful display. Joe’s eyes caught her body, the way her muscles were defined in the warm lighting of the room. His thumbs massaged her abs, feeling the taut muscles under his skin.

“Holy fucking shit,” she cursed, her muscles trembling, pulling herself off of him with a hiss. Joe’s eyes never left hers as he pulled her down to him, capturing her lips in a hungry, feverish kiss.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled against her mouth, his arm snaking around her waist, flipping them. He hovered over her, slotting his body between hers. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with nothing but love for him.

“I’m sorry,” she hummed, “for being away-” he interrupted her with a kiss, pressing his body into hers. Her hands cupped his face, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“Don’t do that,” he hummed against her lips, “just focus on me, alright? Focus on me,” he whispered, moving his lips down her neck. She did, and for the rest of that evening, they spent their time catching up on all the nights they missed out on.

[prkhaven]

(TEASER) MONEY POWER GLORY -l.hs, p.sh-

pairing— athlete!heeseung x journalist fem!reader x athlete!sunghoon

status: release date TBD (currently working on)

genre: smut minors do not interact, angst, slight fluff, athlete au, hockey player!sunghoon, basketball player!heeseung, athlete rivalry, p with plot, p with feelings

wc: estimated 20k

taglist: open — send in ask or comment to be added

— full warnings and smut warnings within actual release —

“Our star players”

Staring at the large group picture hanging dead center in front of you, you zeroed in on the two distinct males standing side by side. Both showcasing not even a crack of a smile as they looked straight ahead.

Your soul withered as you took in their gaze.

Shifting over to the male on the left, you could see he was sleek, clothing neatly arranged—draping over his body that accented his proportions perfectly. Slender legs that popped out by the strikes of muscles lining up from his calf all the way up to his knee where a peek of his quads showed hiding beneath the rolled up sweatpants.

The long navy blue sleeved shirt pushed back by his arms resting behind his back, his chest pumping out through the fabric. His face relaxed but stoic but his blaring eyes stared right into yours while the few spec of moles scattered around his face that you were thankful the camera managed to pick up on.

“That’s Park Sunghoon, pretty good looking right?” You felt a jab at your side knocking you out of your daze before looking over to your side at your boss smiling at the picture with a sparkle in her eyes, “Doesn’t really talk much but his career is set to only rise up from here on out”

Looking away from here and back to the picture, you observe to the male on right this time. Arms stiff at his side, a clear steer away from the male at his side but he held a sharper yet softer look with his big and round eyes that were filled with a wonder in them that stirred something in you.

His hair messily disheveled, poking out in different directions but still effortless on camera. The captured sweat sliding down from his chin down his neck to trickle down to his flimsy tank top that outlined his body, all while he wore baggy basketball shorts that reached to his knees.

Your finger crumbled against your palm when you noticed the outlining of muscles on his arms tracing from the front of his biceps to the back on his tricep.

“And that’s Lee Heeseung” Your boss’ tone shifted into a heavy sigh with a hint of restriction in it, “More outspoken but keeps to himself most of the time but his career…” She sucked a breath as she stared at the male

“It’s promising. So damn promising” She muttered in a whisper before clearing her throat and patting your back with a firm manner that woke you up from the cold daydream you were in

“Can’t wait to see what you create with those two” Her voice squeakier than normal as she teared her gaze away from the picture and back to you

Seeing her toothy grin settled an unease feeling into the rest of your stomach but you pushed that aside and gave a quick smile.

She retracted her hand away after giving one last pat on your shoulder, “It’s a good thing what you’re doing. Choosing to step up when you know this is out of your paygrade” She hushed just for you to hear before walking away without another glance

Your jaw clenched uncomfortably moving your mouth side to side as a shiver ran up your spine causing a shudder of disbelief.

Holding back a roll of your eyes, your hands balled into a fist to shake yourself out of it. You looked back to the large picture of Lee Heeseung and Park Sunghoon, your publications soon to be biggest achievement and success story come to life that hung for all the office to see it in all it’s pride and glory.

Two proud aspiring rising stars in the making that you now have the luxury and privilege of getting first hand knowledge on them.

——

[ekingston]

also on ao3.

“Would you stop fondling my boobs?” Lena hisses, watching as a man nearly wanders into traffic staring at what looks like Lena Luthor, elbow-deep in her own cleavage. He swerves, promptly face-planting into a lamp post when he sees Supergirl herself slap Lena’s hand away. “We’re in public,” Lena reminds her.

“Ouch,” Kara yelps. “Gentle!”

“Sorry,” Lena says. But she only feels a little bad, because at least Kara is now cradling her arm instead of getting Lena arrested for indecent exposure.

Kara is still squirming when Lena checks them in, the receptionist beaming at her in a way Lena has never been beamed at before. Dr. Sattler’s ready for them. Kara gives Lena a last, panicked look, and then she takes the therapist’s offered hand and introduces herself.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara tells Dr. Sattler with a lopsided grin. “Good to meet you.”

“And Supergirl,” Dr. Sattler says, turning to Lena, her gaze briefly flitting down at the S on Lena’s chest. “How wonderful you managed to finally come in.”

Kara flops down onto the couch with a grateful sigh, the skirt of her dress gapping immodestly as she kicks off Lena’s heels. Lena nudges her legs to close them, annoyed. The injustice of Kara getting to act as if she wants to be here. As if she hasn’t been avoiding this visit for months.

(Do we really need to do this? Kara had asked Lena just this morning. Kara’s gaze had been a cross-eyed, sparkling green as Lena applied her eyeliner with a trembling, freckled hand.

Lena had growled in response, knowing even the barest bit of unintentional pressure could blind her for life. We’re not going to cancel just because we’re wearing each other’s bodies, Kara. Hold still.

I bet you’d look good with an eyepatch, Kara had breathed, after which Lena had given up on the endeavor altogether.)

“Your work must keep you busy,” the therapist says magnanimously.

Lena huffs out a laugh. “You can say that again.” And when the Dr. looks at her, curious, “Being a superhero and all that. Always off saving the world!”

“That goes for both of us,” Kara points out. “You—I—don’t even make it to bed, most nights.” And then, softer, “Even when you tell me you’ll wait up.”

“I wish I wouldn’t.” Lena turns to the therapist and explains, “I eat when I’m bored. She comes home to a bed full of crumbs. Who wants to have sex when the sheets are littered with bits of Captain Crunch?”

Dr. Sattler opens her mouth to answer, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance. “Maybe I could make an effort not to be such a neat freak,” she pouts.

Lena’s eyes flash. “Maybe I could make an effort to wash my hands after I use the bathroom,” she snaps back.

Kara sits up. “You do!” she shouts. “You’re just quick about it!”

Lena sighs. “The laws of nature don’t work that way, darling.”

Kara makes a face Lena vows never to make again if she ever gets her body back. “I leave my hair in the shower.”

Lena snorts. “I wash it down the drain. That’s worse.”

“But you fix it!” Kara looks at her with Lena's own wide, pleading eyes. “That’s how—how you show love. By fixing things.”

“Wrong,” Lena flings back. “I break them, so I can feel needed.”

Kara blinks at her, looking hurt.

“That’s.” Dr. Sattler pauses for a moment. “Some very impressive self-reflection,” she decides.

Lena smiles at her, glad they’re getting somewhere.

Kara looks from the therapist to Lena, her blood red lips—easier than eyeliner—pinching together with uncanny chagrin. “I faked my own kidnapping to get out of her family’s Thanksgiving,” she accuses darkly.

Lena sniffs. “I have a codependent relationship with my sister.”

Kara gasps. Dr. Sattler’s eyes widen. Lena arches an eyebrow with considerable effort.

“Oh yeah?” Kara sputters. “Well,” she flails, her nostrils flaring. “You—" she takes a deep breath. "I have mommy issues.”

Oh, fuck no. That's too far. “You do not,” Lena squawks.

"No?" Kara cocks her jaw in a way that makes Lena feel, for the first time, a little sorry for the men she’s similarly stared down. “Let’s find out,” Kara says with the smallest of smirks, and then she retrieves, horribly, from Lena’s purse, Lena’s phone.

“You wouldn’t,” Lena whispers, her heart stopping.

Kara jumps up with surprising agility, dancing out of Lena’s reach. “This’ll just take a second,” she promises Dr. Sattler. “Hello? Mother?”

Lena scrambles over to the other end of the couch, practically throwing herself across the room in an effort to get to Kara.

“No reason,” Kara croons into the phone, grinning as she maneuvers herself away from Lena’s grasp. An elaborately painted and unfortunately placed vase isn’t so lucky. “Just calling to say hey,” Kara says. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Lena really should have taken Kara up on her offer to help Lena master her power of flight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she yells.

“It is!” Kara sing-songs. “Still going strong, yup. Which is why I called! We were wondering—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lena hisses, clawing for Kara’s shoulder and exploding a couch cushion instead.

“—how would you feel about coming to our wedding?”

Lena freezes, flecks of stuffing falling around them like snow.

“Excellent!” Kara chirps. “We'll see you there.”

Dr. Sattler clears her throat. “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about,” she says. “Your communication style is—unique, but obviously effective.”

Kara beams at her as they're leaving, wearing a deeply pleased expression Lena didn’t even think her face was capable of making. “You really should start wearing more comfortable bras,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Also maybe take up yoga.”

Lena hums. “You’ve never had any complaints before.”

Kara stops and stares at her, aghast. "Is that what I look like when I'm coming on to you?"

Lena grins at her. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"

Kara giggles.

- - -

This was written for the multi fandom (and original!) flash fiction challenge, using the prompts ‘established relationship’, ‘at a therapist’s office’, ‘body swap’ and ‘an eyepatch’. You should give it a whirl!

[cameronsbabydoll]

SINGLE LADIES ? RAFE CAMERON ༉‧₊˚.

Rafe comes home from to see you, his wife dancing to ‘Single Ladies’ ???

WARNINGS — teasing, it gets a bit suggestive towards the end, and there is an implication of sex but nothing is actually written!

Rafe entered Tannyhill, the sound of the heel of his shoe falling on the ground. Rafe came home from a long day at work; all he really wanted was to be embraced by his sweet little wife. He wanted to feel your soft hands around his neck and the sound of your sugary sweet voice in his ear, but instead of that, Rafe walked into an empty house with no embrace from you. 

“Sweetheart! I’m home.” Rafe yelled out as he walked up the staircase to the master bedroom. And all of a sudden he heard the faint sound of the song “Single Ladies.” He stepped into your guys bedroom to come to see you in his shirt dancing around to the lyrics and swaying your hips to the beat of the song. 

Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off of you, the way his shirt hung loosely off your shoulder, seeing you dance, the way your giggles mixed in with the lyrics of the song. It was simply adorable. Rafe leaned against the frame of the door, still taking in the rather charming scene. Rafe watched as your eyes widened when you finally saw him. 

“I see you’ve been having some fun,” Rafe said as he moved closer to you, raising his eyebrows slightly as he took your waist into his arms. He clicked his tongue as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. “While I was at my office, working my ass off so you can spend my money on some pretty little dresses and anything that sparkles, I came home to my wife dancing like she’s a single lady.” 

“Well, you do love those dresses I buy, right?” You ask, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rafe chuckles at your little comment, “I sure do… I even like those cute, overpriced lingerie sets you get.”

You roll your eyes and a slight pout forms on your lips as you cross your arms over your chest, “Me too! But you always tear them apart! And you know how embarrassing it is to walk into the store trying to return it!” You whine, your face burning from embarrassment just from recalling the multiple memories of walking into the mall with torn lingerie asking for a return.

Rafe doesn’t even falter at your whine; instead, a wide grin is coming from his lips. “Is that so? Well, I’m personally not embarrassed about it; it just shows how much I love my wife, no?” Rafe teases, nipping your ear slightly.

You giggle, feeling his teeth nibble on the sensitive skin of your ear, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” as you wave your hand in his face, “Come on, I’m wearing this new set I got from the mall today.” You grin, dragging Rafe onto the soft plush of the king sized bed. 

[scoupsakakitty]

I just read the drunk 14th member drabble you did and it got me thinking 🤭

Can I pretty please request also drunk 14th member but she’s at home and being super honest (bc she’s drunk) so the members take advantage of the situation and ask her questions

Just a funny and fluffy drabble 🫶

Late-Night Secrets | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

Seventeen rarely had a free day where they could just chill together without schedules or obligations. So, when such a day finally came, they made the most of it—lounging in their dorm, playing games, ordering way too much food, and watching old variety show episodes of themselves.

As the night rolled in, Jeonghan clapped his hands together. "Alright, since we're all free tomorrow, how about a little soju party?"

The members cheered in agreement. Even Y/N, the 14th member and the only girl in Seventeen, excitedly nodded along. She had been with them for years and considered them family.

"Are you sure, Y/N?" Joshua teased. "You don't drink that often."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I can handle my alcohol. I’m not a lightweight."

At first, everything was fine. The soju flowed, laughter filled the dorm, and the conversations became louder and more chaotic. They played drinking games, from 'Never Have I Ever' to 'Truth or Dare,' and Y/N was holding up surprisingly well—until she wasn’t.

It happened so gradually that no one noticed at first. But soon, Y/N started giggling at nothing, leaning heavily onto whoever was next to her (which happened to be Vernon), and blinking as if trying to remember how her eyes worked.

"Y/N... are you drunk?" DK asked, biting back a grin.

"Nooo," she slurred, dramatically flipping her hair. "I'm perfectly fine. You, on the other hand, are blurry."

Seungkwan burst out laughing. "Oh, this is going to be good."

Drunk Y/N was a menace. She poked at Woozi’s cheeks, calling them 'mochi-soft,' ruffled Mingyu’s hair until it stuck up in every direction, and stole Hoshi’s phone, only to take 50 blurry selfies before tossing it back at him.

"I feel so powerful," she whispered to Dino, who just stared at her in pure amusement. "No one can stop me."

"I don’t think anyone wants to," Dino replied, laughing.

Then, things took a turn.

"You know what?" Y/N announced, standing up (wobbling dangerously). "I have secrets."

The room went silent.

Hoshi’s eyes sparkled. "Oh, this just got interesting."

Seungcheol leaned forward. "Go on. We’re listening."

She pointed dramatically at them. "You guys always complain that I don’t like cuddling, but deep down—I love it. I love when you guys want to cuddle, but I have to act all cool about it."

Gasps filled the room.

"I KNEW IT!" Woozi exclaimed, pointing at her like he solved a murder case. "She always pretends to hate it, but she never actually moves away!"

"EXPOSED!" Seungkwan yelled, laughing so hard he almost fell off the couch.

Y/N pouted. "I feel attacked."

"Too late, you already exposed yourself," Wonwoo said, smirking. "What else do you have?"

Y/N tapped her chin, as if thinking. "Hmm… Oh! I kind of… borrow your clothes."

"Borrow?" Minghao repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Or steal?"

"Pshh, borrow. Borrow!" she defended. "Like, you know, sometimes your hoodies, or caps, or skincare products... but I always give them back!"

"That explains why I kept running out of toner," Joshua muttered.

"I KNEW my hoodies were disappearing!" Woozi groaned. "I blamed DK!"

"Oh!" she suddenly gasped dramatically. "Mingyu."

Mingyu, who had been innocently sipping his drink, choked. "What about me?!"

Y/N covered her mouth, giggling. "I may or may not have scratched your car."

Silence.

"Excuse me?" Mingyu's eyes widened.

"It was an accident! I was driving, and I miscalculated, and—" she waved her hands wildly. "But you never noticed! You thought it was your fault!"

Mingyu stood up, mouth open in betrayal. "I blamed myself for WEEKS. I thought I was losing my mind!"

"Well, mystery solved!" DK laughed.

By now, the members were having way too much fun with Y/N’s drunken confessions. But then, she dropped the biggest bomb of all.

"Also… I might be talking to an idol," she mumbled, swaying slightly.

Instant silence.

"I’m sorry, WHAT?" Jeonghan nearly shrieked.

"WHO?!" Hoshi demanded, eyes wide.

"Is he from a big group?" Joshua asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Is he older or younger?" Woozi probed.

Y/N groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Ugh, he’s so hot. Like, ridiculously good-looking."

"That’s not an answer!" Minghao whined.

"Y/N, who is it?!" Seungcheol urged.

But it was too late. Y/N, mid-sentence, had passed out.

Right on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

He sighed, looking down at her curled-up form. "Guess we’re not getting any answers tonight."

The members looked at each other.

"Okay, but seriously," Seungkwan started. "Who do we think it is?"

"Mingi from ATEEZ?" Hoshi guessed.

"Nah, I think it's I.N from Stray Kids," DK said thoughtfully.

"No way, it’s definitely Soobin from TXT," Dino chimed in confidently.

After a few more wild speculations, the group finally gave up.

Joshua, being one of the responsible ones, carried Y/N to her bed, tucking her in gently.

"Tomorrow’s going to be fun for her," he chuckled.

"Oh, absolutely," Mingyu muttered, still bitter about his car.

Seungkwan smirked. "The moment she wakes up, we’re making her relive every single thing she said tonight."

The members all grinned, looking forward to Y/N’s reaction when she realized just how much she had spilled.

Tomorrow was going to be very interesting.

[joooooniecore]

Coloring tattoos - a drabble

jungkookxfem!reader, established relationship, tiktok trend, short drabble, pure fluff

PLOT: After seeing a TikTok trend, you wanted to color his tattoos.

WORDS: 1.5K

WARNINGS: no warnings, fluff and kissing

“You want to do what?”, Jungkook looked at you with a shocked expression as you blushed under his intense gaze.

You were watching videos on TikTok and came across this video where the girl was filling in the tattoos of his boyfriend. You have always thought about it but seeing it become a trend actually made you even more interested. You fell down the rabbit hole and watched tons of videos on the exact same trend before deciding to finally ask your boyfriend about it. 

You were actually scared to ask Jungkook about it because he could have easily laughed at you but after mustering a lot of courage, you finally said it.

“I said I want to color your tattoos.”, you nervously repeated, nipping your lips in panic.

The silence was getting too loud as you sighed loudly and said, “It’s fine. You don’t have to-”

Before you could finish the sentence, Jungkook said in a soft voice, “You can.”

His eyes sparkled a bit as he stared at you. He was currently sprawled across the couch as you stood in front of him. He was straining his neck to look at you with eyes that glistened with mischief.

“Don’t tease me for it.”, you grumbled and all he did was giggle.

“I won’t. I was just taken aback a little.”, he softly coaxed as he pulled you beside him.

You were already prepared with sharpies and an eyeshadow palette to finally color his tattoos. Jungkook laughed at how determined and prepared you looked. He allowed you to show the millions of videos where the girlfriends were doing it on their boyfriends arms and body and it seemed endearing.

“Do you want to make a video too?”, he asked after you kept your phone aside.

“No need. I just want to color. Then I might click a picture if that’s okay?”, you asked rather bashfully.

“Hey! Don’t get all shy on me. I am fine with whatever you say darling.”, he smirked as he slowly grazed his calloused fingers up and down the length of your arm.

“Which tattoo do you want to color?”, he finally asked.

“Uhm...the tiger lily one.”, you answered. You were more stressed about this part. That tattoo was Jungkook’s personal favorite as it symbolized his birth flower. The flower also signifies ‘please give me love’ which has an even deeper importance. You were actually sure that Jungkook would ask you to choose another tattoo but before you could deny he spoke.

“Okay sure.”, he looked at you and grinned, his nose scrunching up a bit as he seemed happy to be a part of this deed.

“A...Are you sure?”, you again asked and simply received an enthusiastic nod.

You carefully opened your palette and chose a color to work with. Tiger lilies were orange in color as far as you have researched. The flowers even had a tinge of yellow in the middle, with black spots around it, and you were going to do exactly that.

You got up and sat on his right side before taking his hand on your lap. You grazed the tattoo with your fingers and saw Jungkook visibly shiver. He softly smiled and nudged you to continue. You took out a black sharpie and outlined the tattoo first because of how faded it has become. Then you used some concealer to make the base for the colors.

“What is that?”, Jungkook asked as he curiously peeked.

“This is concealer. It will help stick the colors better.”, you explained without even looking at him.

Jungkook has always been the curious type. He would ask you millions of questions about makeup, clothes and even nail arts. He always had an affinity to learn more and it always endeared you.

You gently took the orange eyeshadow from the palette on your makeup brush and started filling in.

“It tickles!”, Jungkook giggled as you firmly held his hand when he tried to move away.

“Bear with it! Don’t move.”, you scolded him playfully as he pouted.

After filling the petals, you decided to go into the details. You took a little bit of yellow and shaded the centre part of the flower. Then with the sharpie you gave some final details, creating sports wherever you pleased. You were so engrossed in the coloring that you almost forgot about Jungkook.

When you finally looked up to him, you found him smiling at you with a fond expression.

“You know you pucker your lips a little when you are engrossed in something.”, Jungkook commented and you blushed.

“Shut up! It’s done.”, you say as you shove him away.

Jungkook heartily laughed as he examined the tattoo. A small smile played on his lips as he looked at the details and how perfectly you have colored the tattoo. It looked exactly like his birth flower now.

“Click a picture of it.”, he said offering his phone.

You smiled as you clicked few pictures from all angles. The pictures came out great as you forwarded them to your mobile for safe keep.

A few days later, you were at your office working through some files. You worked in a tech company and the new product that your team was working on was showing some sort of issue. The workload was hectic and you never even got time to go back home for rest. It has been almost a week since you have seen Jungkook. The longing was getting out of hand.

A soft knock on your office door brought you out of your thoughts.

“Come in.”, you answered.

“Ma’am, there is someone who wants to meet you.”, your assistant informed.

“Sure.”, you answered with a smile and followed her our of your office.

Your muscles thanked you for getting up as you stretched a little before following her down the lift and into the visitor’s room.

She bowed down and left even before you could enter the room. You looked at her skeptically but soon realized the reason. Inside the room sat Jungkook on one of the couches as he bounced his leg anxiously waiting for you to come.

“What are you doing here?”, you whisper-yelled as you locked the door.

“Can’t I come to meet you?”, he answered nonchalantly.

“Yes, but what if they spread rumors?”, you anxiously asked. You knew about his popularity and he should not have pulled this risky move.

“I had guards with me and my manager is waiting down the hall. He said that it is related to the humidifier I had at home.”, he gave a cheeky grin and you laughed along with him.

“She believed that? Wow.”, you thought loudly.

“Anyways, why are you here?”, you finally asked as you looked at him.

Suddenly Jungkook went all quiet as he started nervously looking anywhere but towards you.

“Uhm, I have something to show you.”, he finally said which made you even more nervous.

Jungkook is not someone who gets nervous. He works on pure instinct and just does what he feels like. You have never seen him this nervous other than that one time when he asked you out for a date. It was within the first few days of you meeting him and you were genuinely taken aback.

“What is it Jungkook?”, you softly asked and tried to calm down your own beating heart.

He got up from where he was seated and gently started opening his jacket. He was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt under the denim jacket. You looked at him anxiously as he finally kept the jacket aside and forwarded his right hand towards you.

At first you thought he wants to hold your hand when he said what was bothering him, but as soon as you placed your palm on his, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. The world stopped as nothing else mattered other than him and you. You felt dizzy as you looked at the plastic sheet that covered the wrist region of his hand.

He had colored his tiger lily tattoo. Not some temporary eyeshadow shit that you did last time. Bright, permanent color. In the same way you colored just a week ago.

“I- What- When?”, you stuttered as you looked at him.

“I did it yesterday.”, he answered as his eyes met yours.

“Jungkook-”, you started but couldn’t say anything else. You were shocked. He seemed so determined to show you this and on top of that it was colored in the exact way you did.

“Did you- Did you copy my coloring?”, you couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes. Remember the picture you took from my phone? I took that to my tattoo artist and asked him to fill this tattoo with color.”, he explained as he pulled you in.

You allowed your palms to lie flat on his chest as you looked up to him with teary eyes.

“I have nothing to say.”, you finally said.

“Do you like it at least?”, he asked as his left hand grazed your cheek.

“Of course! This is beautiful. I am speechless that you love me this much.”, you answered him in a broken voice.

“Obviously I love you, idiot!”, Jungkook chuckled as he dipped his head to kiss you softly.

You smiled against his lips as the world felt a little bit better for you.

Author's note: This was more of a drabble as I have been extremely busy. I am planning to write short drabbles more as I find them cute. I am still working on a Jungkook one-shot which will be a lengthy one. I might post that withing few days. I hope you guys liked this one. Love y'all!<3

[captain-hawks]

i can't stop thinking about oliver who moves in across the street from single mom!reader.

you don't watch sports, so you don't know who he is. just that he's disarmingly handsome, kind in a way that makes your chest hurt. that he won't take no for an answer when it comes to shovelling your driveway on snowy winter mornings or mowing your lawn on hot summer days.

all the little old ladies that go for their morning walk around the neighborhood love him.

you find your cat on his porch half of the time.

and oliver always looks at you like he wants to flirt with you, like one charming thing or another is just waiting on the tip of his tongue. but he keeps his mouth shut like he knows you're not ready for that.

your daughter's got her heart set on the school soccer team. so you do your best to try and help her practice for tryouts, even if you don't know the first thing about the sport.

oliver catches you running some bastardized semblance of drills in your front yard one evening when he gets home from practice (though you just assume the duffle bag slung over his shoulder is from the gym).

"need some help?" he asks, dropping his bag in your driveway as he approaches.

"you play?" you ask him, watching as he quickly stops the ball your daughter nearly launches into the street.

his lips twitch. "i've got some experience."

oliver becomes somewhat of a de facto coach, working with your daughter every night while you watch them from the porch.

(he looks over at you and grins every time she gets past him with the ball.)

she makes the team. you're mortified when she begs him to come to her first game (his eyes sparkle with something you can't quite name as he says to her while he stares right at you, "if it's alright with your mom.")

—it's nine in the morning on an overcast saturday. you're on the sidelines of the school soccer field, with a jacket that certainly doesn't belong to you slung over your shoulders and it's owner sitting beside you on the small set of bleachers with his knee touching yours.

some kid's dad does a double take as he goes to walk by, eyes going wide as he blurts out, "holy shit, are you oliver aiku?!"

and all you can do is stare as the guy unzips his jacket to show off a black and white jersey for a team called ubers, pivoting around to point his thumbs at the last name and number on his back—23, AIKU.

(oliver promises he'll sign it after the game.)

you blink. repeatedly.

"you've got some experience?" you deadpan when the man eventually walks away.

oliver scratches the back of his head and offers you a sheepish smile.

[pinkpastels113]

pop star x bodyguard au

for @writerallie

Adrenaline rushes through her veins as Galinda moves across the stage, the lights overhead brilliant and warm and colorful and she knows she looks dazzling as she dances, singing to her own song with the earpieces that keep her on track. She giggles through the chorus in all the right places, makes that one voice change that makes her fans go wild, and lets her eyes stray to the side, to that dedicated spot to the left near the closest floor seats, to make sure that the sole person in this entire sold out stadium there for her is listening, watching her performance.

Elphaba, as always, stands there, in her pressed black suit and stoic expression. Her clear steady gaze meets Glinda’s, never leaves even as Glinda shoots her a dimpled smile before (satisfied,) focuses on an arbitrary fan in the crowd, winking at them just so they can catch it on their phone cameras. That intense stare burns a trail right to the tips of her toes in their heels, encouraging her to put on a show more so than any of the other tens of thousands of people in that stadium. It makes her excited to (rather than prepared to). It carries her through the rest of the songs, the rest of the setlist. 

The material of her cutout dress glitter, sparkling brighter than the stars in the evening sky that are trying to peek through. Her own voice sounds strange in her head, though louder than the many others singing along, which are vying to bleed into one with the way they are perfectly in sync with her lyrics. Glinda’s hold on her microphone is gentle but firm as she gives everyone what they want, paid for, looked forward to, traded plans with, for that night. 

Glinda loves being a pop star. She has always dreamed of being an artist ever since she first held a karaoke microphone toy at seven, and now, fifteen years later, she’s finally made it. The energy of the crowd brings a flush to her cheeks, their open adoration causing her heart to soar, and their connection to her own feelings making her so validated and seen. Wanted. Perfection. Though it oftentimes can be lonely and suffocating and overwhelming, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. She’s worked too hard to reach that point. Sacrificed so much. 

She finishes off the choreography with her backup dancers, skipping across the stage to the inconspicuous mark identified with a dollop of pink tape. Glinda poses, as rehearsed, her breath tumbling out in soft pants, sweat beading on her forehead, hair slightly damp and dark and returning to their natural waves. 

(She hopes her makeup’s still flawless though.)

Glinda glances, again, to the left.

Elphaba’s smile is small but still decipherable, only there for Glinda to pinpoint due to the amount of time that they’ve spent together. The corner of her lips quirk up the tiniest bit in fondness (and if Glinda allowed herself to dare to hope, with pride, too), and for some reason it makes Glinda’s eyes sting with unshed tears.

Her chest suddenly feels tight, like there is a weight on it, but Glinda ignores it as she turns back to address the audience. She curtsies while everyone else bow deeply to signal the end of the show, grinning widely while the cheers heighten into a deafening roar. The lights flash elegantly into synthetic rainbows, showering across the stadium not unlike shimmering bubbles. Taking a few minutes of reprieve to catch her breath and make sure that the noise isn’t a danger to her poor eardrums, she takes out her IEMs to give her expected speech.

“I had such a fun time with you all here tonight! The Emerald City really holds such a special space in my heart, and well. I hope your memories here in the past couple hours were as beautiful as mine for those years spent at Shiz, if not more. Thank you all for coming to the show and spending the evening with me, and see you in the next! Now I must go,” she finishes with a delicate chuckle, “Before I float away in all the goodness everyone has bestowed upon me.”

When she’s finally off that platform under the pressure of tens of thousands of Ozians, Elphaba is there with her pink converse. Glinda is grateful for the bit of privacy the darkness beneath the stage provides as she’s pretty sure the tabloids would have a field day printing articles about the gripping of her bodyguard’s shoulders as she carefully removes Glinda’s heels for her.

It’s fine, Glinda thinks, as the heat in her cheeks refuses to fade. It’s just a caring gesture. Nothing more to it. Any reasonable person with a heart would understand that she probably requires a change of shoes after two and a half hours of elaborate dancing on the pinches of her feet. Even if she’d never ask for it. 

She shouldn’t read into it much. Couldn’t. It’s not like Elphaba will say anything substantial if she prods.

“Just doing my job, princess,” Elphaba would always reply in that dry tone that Glinda foolishly, determinedly, wishes to crack someday down the line. 

(And princess as in “pop princess.” As the public deems her. Presumably.)

Elphaba ties the laces, accentuating them into double bunny ears. She straightens into her full height, placing a hand on the small of Glinda’s back, right there in that spot where her glittering dress gave way to a slip of skin, guiding her back out into the crowd for the final stretch of public attention. 

She smiles. And waves, as expected. For the cameras, for the eager faces, for the anticipation and the admiration and the happiness that it provides others. 

“Glinda, we love you!”

“You did so amazing, I love you so much!”

“I’m such a huge fan!”

“It was perfect, Glinda! The best show ever!”

“Aah! Glinda!”

“You look so beautiful!”

Elphaba keeps her steps quick, steadily pushing Glinda along even as fans try to reach out, swiftly inserting her body between them to block their line of sight. While Glinda makes it her day’s mission to please the public, Elphaba could not care less. 

(There had been instances where she had to scold Elphaba for being particularly aggressive.)

A young girl cried her name and Glinda turned, pausing to pay her a compliment and genuine smile. She already knew that Elphaba would be upset at her for doing so but she crouched down to hug the girl anyway, answering her questions about some of the theatrics of the performance.

“We have to go, Glinda. The car is waiting.”

Despite herself, Glinda rolled her eyes. “It can wait for a little longer.”

Something shifts in Elphaba’s gaze, and her hand twitches at her side for a split second. A rare moment of deviation of her cool facade but Glinda would gladly take it. It’s a small victory. 

She decides to not push her luck any further than that, though, and reaches the car without additional waylay. Elphaba holds the door open for her, Glinda sliding past with a purposeful brush to her wrist, before ducking in herself. She slams the door shut behind them.

The vehicle begins to move.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Elphaba huffs, tossing Glinda’s heels on the opposite seat. There is a bottle of water tucked into a compartment which Elphaba picks up to shove at Glinda. “You don’t know what could have happened.”

“She was a child!” Glinda protests. She wrenches open the cap to gulp a few mouthfuls to hydrate her throat. Then hums a bit to soothe her voice. “Nothing could have happened.”

“It’s my job to prevent you from anything happening, so I think I should have a say on whether or not it could have. Happened.”

“Like there would not have been plenty of time for you to do something if it had.” Glinda peers up at Elphaba from beneath her lashes, resting her chin on her hand. “Did you have fun, Elphie?”

Elphaba glances past Glinda’s shoulder to the streets cruising out the window. “It’s not-”

“Did you,” Glinda says, punctuating her question, because Lurline, she was so sick of Elphaba skating and avoiding, “Have fun?”

“I don’t see how that would have mattered. It’s not like I had a choice on the matter of attending.”

“Just answer the damn question.” Good thing the privacy screen is up between them and the driver.

Elphaba pursed her lips. Glinda can see her debating with herself on whether or not to indulge her but Glinda had already seen the display of affection after the last song. And she knows that Elphaba knows too. She just hopes for a confirmation, and a quiet extension of something beyond strictly professional in this weirdly tense in between of their relationship.

“Perhaps.”

And that alone brought her more joy than the entirety of the performance that evening.

[aurorasgate]

I adore sephiroth x readers where he thinks he’s lost the reader like he thinks they’re dead for a sec and then they show up and he’s just all clingy and relieved. Or he has a nightmare that they’re dead in his arms and wakes up and they’re alive. I can’t find a lot of those kinds of Sephiroth fics and I think its absolutely criminal.

sephiroth x gn!reader

warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of blood

ooo anon i adore these types of fics too! i hope i was able to provide and help towards this injustice for these type of fics hehe thank you so much for requesting, i really hope you enjoy it<3

“sephiroth..”

he looks around for the two voices calling his name, each one familiar and bringing about very different and distinct feelings, but there’s nothing around him that he recognizes and neither you nor hojo are anywhere to be seen despite both of you sounding so close. something that puts sephiroth on edge as is, never wanting the professor to be anywhere near you if he could help it.

surrounding him lies only walls of dark petrified ice that keeps the world in a frozen stasis, the deepest glacier blues sparkling with the same mako of his eyes. the cold doesn’t bite at his skin but he knows it’s there by the clouds his shallow breaths make. masamune feels light, ready, in his left hand, awaiting her wielder's command. above him is what looks like a starless night sky and is seemingly just as endless in its depth but it feels as though as encased with no way out.

utterly alone he stands in the middle of it all, searching for who he loves and who he loathes.

“sephiroth!”

it’s only you he hears this time and at the sound of your distraught voice crying out for him in a way he’s never heard from you before, full of pain and pleading, he’s quickly on his feet to turn in the direction it came from only to be met with a sight specially crafted for his nightmares and that his own hands would make worse still.

with tears rolling down your cheeks and blood dripping from a cut on your cheek, you’re on your knees an arms length away from him, struggling through every breath, but not taking your gaze off of him. the way you draw your brows together and the deep frown to your lips might have made anyone think you were angry, and perhaps you are, but the anguish behind your eyes is undeniable. deep enough he feels it in his own chest.

“you have to stop this! please! ” you beg of him, your beautiful eyes trembling with more tears than before.

he wants to sooth you, take you into his arms and promise you that everything is okay, that you’re safe when he’s here to protect you, but he can’t move. it's as though his body isn’t his own, every command he tries to give it to bring him closer to you or say anything unwilling to obey.

sephiroth can only watch as crystalline tears freeze upon touching the icy ground at your knees and when droplets of your blood join them, his head starts to hurt, an aching pressure behind his eyes that he’s felt many times before and conjures images of raging flames and a pool of blood he knows is yours. 

when he’s able to open his eyes again, there’s a split second of relief that he feels when he sees you still in front of him before it’s replaced with an emotion he couldn’t put a single name to. he only knows that his very soul is being ripped in two and set a blaze at the sight of blood dripping from your mouth and masamune sinking into your chest, his bare hands driving the blade deeper into you. your pleas quickly turning into a cry of pain that rings in his ears, unrelenting and heart breaking. through masamunes hilt he can feel the way it breaks through your bones and cuts the soft petaled flesh he’s kissed countless times. deeper his blade goes, effectively skewering through you all while his muscles scream out in agony as they’re pulled each way in his attempt to stop himself. 

he has to stop - he can’t - he won’t - but inevitably it means nothing.

you’re so close he can taste the metaliciness of your blood in the air, can feel your fleeting warmth kissing his chilled skin and the weight of your body growing heavier on his sword. sephiroth can only stare helplessly at the way you bleed and grasp onto your life. behind him, echoing along the icy crystals, is hojos amused laugh. the same one he often used watching sephiroth hurt just as the professor had warned him he would if he didn’t his warnings.

“i told you,” hojo says, his prideful smile painted in his words telling of just how much he’s enjoying being right. “there was never any chance of saving them from you.”

hojo says more but sephiroth can’t hear him through the rapid drumming of his heartbeat in his ears as your trembling hand reaches out for him, your other being used as leverage to help bring you further down masamunes long blade, closer to him.

at the touch of your fingers grazing along his cheek, covered in blood and losing heat so quickly, whatever had hold over his body gives enough way that he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of in order to reach for you in return but as soon as his hand is on your arm, trying to pull you into him, the aching in his head surges tenfold.

without letting go of you, his vision blurs, the entire world vibrates violently, but rather than seeing any of the mirage of images he had before, it’s only you that distorts between how you had looked mere moments ago to your skin turning different shades of splotched gray and deep purple veins spread everywhere; your head hung lower as you fight for life viruses the tender expression that’s worn by your visage but isn’t truly yours. not like he knows it to be. 

each shot of pressure behind his eyes makes you blur back and forth but your words ring clear and soft, kinder than he ever deserved and with all the love you hold for him. “it’s okay seph. as long as you’ll get to be with j -”

the touch of your forehead to his chest feels more like the entire planet of gaia is crashing into his rib cage and makes him take in an unsteady gasp for air that burns his lungs as though it was his first breath ever -

sephiroth is forced awake, the discomfort in his chest mirroring how it was in what he knows was a nightmare. he’s had so many before, for as long as he can remember, but it had not made it easier to swallow the effects they had on him; the way it could blur reality and dreams even after waking.

surely that was why he could still feel the cold of that frozen place and the thickness of blood on his hands despite being half covered by the duvet and the pale skin of his hands looking completely clean as he sits up and stares down at them like they had truly taken the life of the person he cherishes the most. he could still feel it all, down to the way he felt masamune - a very extension of himself -  cutting through you without mercy and the ringing in his ears that mingled with your resounding sobs. 

everything only seems to grow worse when, like a child afraid to wake their mother in the middle of the night, he wordlessly reaches out for you and is met with a cold, empty, place where your body should have been curled up next to him. and when sephiroth sees he is utterly alone, the world seems to move painfully slow. gravity growing heavier and making it more difficult to shift onto his knees and for his hands to clutch at the sheets on your side of the bed as if searching for an ounce of your warmth, any reminder of your presence, within the threads.

but there's nothing. no warmth, no comfort, no you and the longer he tries to find you there, the more it feels as though the entire planet is devoid of your love and light. all because of him and before he knows it, he’s dragged further into darkness.

his hands are shaking, his breathing painfully ragged and his chest aching with a crushing pressure. he’s endured much discomfort before but nothing like this. nothing like the agony of being without you after finally letting himself have you. not after swearing to protect you with his very life.

silver strands of hair stick to his sweat beaded skin and catch in his blurry vision with every heavy blink of his eyes that sephiroth swears are deceiving him. they must be when he can feel your blood on him despite not being able to see it. it’s there, he knows it is, staining his soul, flooding his lungs, sitting heavy on his heart. ready to break him.

he finds comfort in the sweet cruelness of his own mind when it betrays him further and makes him see your hands reaching for him in the dark. he expects them to go right through him before they’re gone once more, nothing more than a ghost of a touch he hadn’t deserved in the first place, that his own hands had snuffed out, but no - he feels the warmth of your fingers, the unreal softness of your skin, that travel down his palms, the benevolence of your touch that always seemed accompany the way you handled him, washing away the sticky feeling of blood he thought might never leave, and sees them wrap around his wrists as if to tether him to this world. to you.

“sephiroth..” 

it’s not the only time you’ve called out to him since reentering the bedroom and finding him on his knees, hunched over, the broad expanse of his back rising and falling with quick, uneven, breaths and clinging to the sheets on your side of the bed like they were a life line but with the way he looks up at you now, mako eyes seemingly glowing in the dark, pulsing with a mix of torment and realization, you think he’s finally heard your voice.

“love, what’s wr-” you don’t get the chance to finish before his arms are around you and you’re being pulled onto the bed, into his embrace, in a dizzying display of his strength and gentleness. but it’s easy to find your bearings when you’re quickly pressed flushed to his chest and your legs settle on either side of his like this is exactly where you belonged. 

he’s burning up, hotter than he normally runs, barely breathing and trembling all over. the parts of his skin that touch your own damp with cold sweat but you don’t let it stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck, maneuvering under his hair, and pulling him as close to you as possible. 

sephiroth whispers your name, broken and wavering and followed by his arms around you growing tighter, nearly crushing but it doesn’t hurt and you only encourage it more when you return it in kind, bringing one of your hands to hold the back of his head and keep him pressed, hidden from the world, in the crook of your neck. 

“i’m here,” you promise and wonder if perhaps it’s exactly what he needed to hear when his hands bunch up the fabric of your shirt - one of his old training shirts you’ve confiscated as your own. 

the thundering of his heartbeat can be felt throughout your whole body and you hold him like he’s something precious. as gentle as thin glass and as close to your heart as a cherished locket. your voice is a mirror of your emotions and meant to sooth him, remind him that he’s as safe in your arms as you are in his. “it’s okay seph. i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t speak or say anything but he doesn’t need to. you know by the way he holds you like you may slip through his grasp, like maybe this isn’t real, that he’s had a nightmare. one of so many you’ve been around to see him have, but this is also different than anytime before. he must have seen something truly horrible and it breaks your heart, brings unshed tears to your eyes. 

your body had picked the wrong night to be so restless. you thought you were doing him a favor by slipping out of bed and waiting for tiredness to wash over you in the living room before returning to where you normally slept curled against him. he’d fallen asleep so quickly, needed the rest, and the last thing you wanted was to disrupt that but you’d have stayed if you knew what was going on behind his closed eyes. 

he’d be vehemently against it, you know he would, but you’d have happily taken all of his bad dreams and dreamt them yourself if you could.

wordlessly you hold each other for an amount of time you don’t care to count. you’d stay here till the sun rose and fell again so long as he needed it. as time ticks by, slowly but surely, his heartbeat steadies, falls in line with your own, and each deep breath he takes that’s so full of you helps to relax the muscles of his body. your fingers run through his silken hair, careful in the way they untangle little knots that are proof of his fitful sleep and provide a comfort he isn’t sure he deserves. sephiroth has never been sure he’s deserved you but that would never make him let you go. especially tonight when his mind continues to echo hojos words, ‘there was never any chance of saving them from you.’ 

despite the calmness that has washed over him in lulling waves, his hold is unrelenting, unwilling to let you go, a silent vow that he’d never let anything happen to you. nothing and no one, not even himself, could harm you. he’d use every single ounce of his power and strength to ensure that. anything could happen to him so long as you were safe. 

you’d never be as strong as he is, never know the other worldly power he holds and is forced to use for the sake of those who use him, but that would never stop you from feeling and doing everything to keep him safe too. many times it has made you wish you were stronger but at times so little do you understand that all you do for him, the way you protect him, has nothing to do with strength. the love and care you have for him, that you show him every day, is more powerful than any physical prowess. and right now, as you continue to hold him, love him, he thinks it to be more true than ever.  

when he finally moves, neither of you being able to bear letting the other go far, it’s just enough so he can look into your eyes, remind himself that what he saw in his dreams was truly only a dream. 

just a dream. he repeats to himself as he stares at you and brings a hand up to cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. as you lean into his palm, the smile you give him is both calming and radiant and proof that there’s no trace of how you were in his nightmare. no blood, no tears, no pain, no discolor of greys and purple to your skin. you’re beautiful. very much alive. his. 

“everything’s okay,” you whisper, as if you could read on his face what was running through his mind. “what you saw in your dream wasn’t real, i promise.”

“you’re okay,” he says aloud, reassuring himself, his vocal cords crackling with the remnants of being unable to speak or have control over his body, even in his dream. 

“i’m okay,” you echo without missing a beat, not needing him to elaborate. “safe and sound with you.” the last of his discomfort vanishes at the weight of your forehead on his, a distance you close, and the way you rub the nip of your noses together. “just like you’re safe and sound with me, my love.”

with a sigh of relief that you feel the heat of on your mouth, his fingers tangle into your hair and pull you closer till your lips meet in a long, soft kiss that seals your promise into his heart and soul. 

i know i already wrote a nightmare fic for him but idgaf. poor baby has too many nightmares

[cosmowgyral]

"Lover's Contract: A night of immoral deeds"

▪︎ Nica Schwartz

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken.

Since Nica is not yet out in the EN server, there might be terms that will turn out different than what I have used here when he is finally released. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Nica: Lover’s club has three rules.

Nica: One, never tell each other’s secrets.

Nica: Two, actively consider any proposal for an affair, even if it’s abnormal.

Nica: Three, if either of you gets a new lover, end the relationship.

Nica: What do you think? It sounds fun.

I lowered my eyes and sighed, unlike Nica, who had the corners of his mouth curled in laughter.

(Why did it have to come to this….)

A few hours back-----

As I crouched down in front of the flower bed and looked at the flowers, a shadow obstructed my field of vision.

Nica: What are you doing here?

Kate: Nica?

He was looking down at me, and didn’t somehow seem like his usual carefree self.

(He seems a bit grumpy…..)

He pursed his lips and looked at me with a dissatisfied expression.

Kate: Did something happen?

Nica: Oh yes, listen Robin.

Nica: I had the worst day today; a bird pooped on my clothes and then I stepped on fallen food.

Nica: On top of that, I was accused by a stranger and almost got punched.

Nica, who has been plagued by continuous misfortunes, tried to remove the bird poop from his clothes.

Wait a second, did he just say he was about to be punched by a stranger?

Nica: The misunderstanding was cleared but…..

The man who was about to hit him had mistakenly thought that Nica was his wife’s lover.

Nica had stopped in front of the house where his wife's lover resided.

Nica: So, when he was waiting to ambush the guy, I happened to stop there and he mistook me for him.   

It seems the man’s wife hadn’t been home for almost a week---.

(That’s actually a bit sad…..)

Seeing him with his arms crossed, looking thoroughly displeased made me feel sorry for him.  

Kate: How about doing something fun to relax?

Kate: I can go out with you if you’re okay with it.

Fortunately, he smiled at me.

Nica: Well, there is a place I want to go with you.

Kate: Where is it?

Perhaps he is feeling a little better now because there was a shift in his expression.

Nica’s lips slowly curved into a smile.

Nica: Love. People. Club. Fun.

He uttered some strange words.

The lover’s club is a club where you can spend time with your lover in secret.

It is apparently held only at night in a certain mansion as a place for people to spend an immoral night indulging in pleasure.

The man who attempted to hit Nica is now at his wit's end because it appears that his wife also frequents the club----.

Nica: So I thought I’d step in and lend a hand.

He leaned closer to me, his eyes sparkling.

Nica: Hey Robin, let’s sneak in together and find the man’s wife.

Kate: Umm….

Seeing that I was not showing any enthusiasm, his shoulders visibly slumped.

Nica: You were the one who said you’d join me for a change of pace.

Nica: I was really happy….but it seems like you don’t want to go with me…

(Oh cmon!)

Kate: Okay, but I’ll come back as soon as we’re done finding his wife!

Nica: As expected of the Robin, you get things done quickly.

And then, Nica gave me a broad smile----.

Nica: So from now on, you are my lover.

(back to the present)

(When I asked him to relax a bit, I never imagined that I would become his lover and sneak into a club with him.…)

Nica took out a photo from his pocket.

Nica: This is his wife. Her lover is a young man about the same age as us.

Nica: Apparently they’re known as the Queen and the Prince in the club. How funny.

This woman known as ‘Queen’ possessed an alluring aura, although it was unclear how old she was.

 Nica: Once we get hold of the woman, we hand her over to her husband. That’s our mission.

Kate: Okay, I understand…but why did you decide to cooperate with the man, Nica?

I asked him the question because I couldn't figure out why he would cooperate with a man who had nearly punched him.

Nica: Robin, we forged a bond of friendship between us men.

Nica: We were two unfortunate men, so we decided to help each other out.

He didn’t give me a proper reason.

(Knowing Nica, I doubt he’ll want to help out with only good intentions….)

I look at him suspiciously, unable to believe that a man who loved money so much, would cooperate without a compensation.

Nica: While we’re on the topic, let’s decide on a setting.

Nica: Wouldn’t it be okay if you were the wife of a company’s president and I was an employee working at your husband’s company?

Kate: But you look like the one with more money.

He appears much wealthier than I do because of all those pricey accessories he is wearing.

Suddenly, he sat down next to me, and began running his fingers through my hair.

Nica: I would want you to dress me up as your lover.

The lips that were resting on the ends of my hair make a soft sound.

Nica: Because I want to prove that I belong to you.

My heart started racing as I was stunned by the sudden kiss.

Then, my eyes met Nica’s.

Nica: Don’t be surprised by something like this, we’re lovers.

His captivating smile enthralled me, but then I gasped when the carriage came to a quick stop.

Nica: Looks like we arrived, Robin. Are you ready?

He held out his arm in front of me, and gave me a look that suggested I accept it.

I nodded slightly and wrapped my arm around his as instructed.

Nica: Well then, shall we indulge in a one night’s forbidden affair?

That endearing voice marked the beginning of a nightlong love affair.

[Masterlist] [Chapter2]

[kinascum]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ PICKUP pt2

SingleDad!Matt Sturniolo x DaycareTeacher!Reader

wc ! 1.3k | summary ! maybe we can take it slow?. | pinned ♡ taglist

PURE FLUFF. NO MAJOR WARNINGS romance between a teacher and a student's parent, slow-burn romantic tension, and mild emotional conflict.

HI! I wanted to show you guys kinda what tiny Tommy looks like in my head, so mhm that's it! hope you love it:)))

The day was winding down, and you could almost hear the whispers of the approaching evening in the rustle of leaves outside the daycare window. You, the dedicated teacher, had spent the last few hours coaxing laughter from little ones with finger paint and stories. Your eyes kept straying to the clock, not because you were eager to leave, but because you knew who would soon walk through the door. Matt, with his son Tommy in tow, was a part of the daily routine that had become a secret delight.

Matt was nothing like the other parents—his smile was broader, his eyes sparkled more, and there was a gentle way he had with the children that made you feel like you were watching a master at work. When he arrived, the room seemed to brighten, and you found yourself looking forward to the brief interactions you had with him. It was a simple exchange of pleasantries and updates about Tommy's day, but it was the most anticipated part of your job.

As the final bell chimed, the children scurried out like a flock of colorful birds, eager to be reunited with their parents. You took a deep breath and straightened your apron, bracing yourself for the rush of goodbye hugs and kisses. Then, there was a knock on the door, and there they were: Matt with his disarming grin, and Tommy, his tiny hand nestled in his father's. Tommy looked up at you, his eyes shining with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey," Matt said, his voice warm and comforting. "How was Tommy's day?"

You launched into a recount of Tommy's artistic achievements and social conquests, all the while acutely aware of the man standing in front of you. You felt a strange warmth in your chest, a feeling that had nothing to do with the end-of-day fatigue. The conversation was easy, filled with the mundane yet charming details of a child's day, but the air was charged with something more. You handed over Tommy's backpack, and your hands brushed against Matt's for a fleeting second. The electricity of the touch sent a shiver down your spine, making you question the boundaries of your professionalism.

Matt's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a glimmer of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that had been weaving between you. "Thank you," he said, his voice a little softer than usual. "You know, these little chats are the best part of my day."

Tommy looked up at both of you, his eyes wide with innocent curiosity. "Why do you guys talk so much?" he asked.

Matt ruffled his hair. "We just like talking about you, buddy," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, and you turned to busy yourself with tidying the art corner, hoping it wasn't too obvious.

As the days turned into weeks, the bond between you and Matt grew stronger, despite your best efforts to maintain a professional façade. Your interactions grew more personal, the smiles more genuine, and the glances that lingered just a bit longer. It was as if the universe itself was conspiring to bring you closer, and the tension was palpable, like the anticipation before a storm.

One evening, as the last rays of sunlight painted the classroom in a warm glow, Matt lingered after the usual goodbye. "I know this isn't easy," he began, his voice low and earnest. "But I can't ignore what's happening here."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Matt, I—"

He raised a hand to stop you. "I get it. I do. But maybe we can just...see where this goes? Take it slow?"

You felt your heart race, torn between the comfort of the status quo and the allure of the unknown. "I don't want to make things complicated," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matt nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know. Me neither. But... you're worth the risk."

The words hung in the air, thick with possibility and unspoken promise. You watched as he and Tommy left the room, the door clicking shut behind them. The silence was deafening, yet somehow filled with the echoes of a future you hadn't allowed yourself to dream of.

The next week, a school event—a parents' night in—was announced. You felt a mix of excitement and dread. It was the perfect opportunity to see Matt outside of the confines of the schoolyard, but it also meant navigating uncharted waters. You weren't just Tommy's teacher anymore; you were becoming a part of his life in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

The night of the event arrived, and the school was transformed into a whirlwind of laughter and chatter. You moved through the crowd, trying to keep your cool amidst the parents you knew so well. And then, there he was. Matt, standing by the refreshments table, looking more handsome than you had ever seen him. His eyes met yours, and the room seemed to shrink around you.

As you approached, he handed you a cup of coffee, the heat of his hand searing into yours as you took it. "I didn't know if you liked it with milk or sugar," he said, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You took a sip, the sweetness of the drink mirroring the sweetness of the moment. "It's perfect," you replied, your eyes locked on his.

The evening was a blur of small talk and shared laughs, but every interaction felt like a dance, a delicate balance between the lines of friendship and something more. And as the night grew late, and the children grew tired, the tension grew stronger.

Matt leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Could I walk you to your car?" he asked.

You nodded, your heart racing. As you stepped outside into the cool night air, you couldn't ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You weren't just walking to your car; you were walking towards a crossroads, where the path of your life was about to branch into two very different directions.

You reached your car, and the moment of truth was upon you. Would you keep resisting the pull between you, or would you dare to take the risk and see where it led? You turned to face him, the stars above twinkling in silent encouragement.

"Okay," you said, taking a step closer. "Let's take it slow."

tags ! @christophersgf @rainuhhhh @mattandchrismakemewett @gxldenlush @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @secretagentspy @chrisspussygang

[justivik]

A LITTLE DEATH.

; yandere! twins x fem! reader

tw: ENGLISH ISN’T MY FIRST LANGUAGE. smut, cnc content, abuse, p in v, a lot of kinks if u want idk and not a lot of yandere stuff

You left your books in the locker, already old and worn out, and sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the fatigue accumulated from school. The teachers, with their endless homework, and the projects they left only added more stress, offering no respite.

Your school days used to be normal and relatively uneventful, until you met them...

They were twins, strange twins. They maintained a questionable reputation but were attractive enough to distract from your personality; the older one was outgoing with an obsession with bladed weapons, and the younger one was introverted but with a fascination for the warmth of fire.

They were both fascinated and obsessed with you.

You still didn't know the reason, but you hated the position you had found yourself in. Every day you saw them coming towards you, like two Siamese cats, and they tormented you like a little mouse. It all started from the time you talked to the first twin; you helped him with a chemistry assignment and showed interest in his knife collection. Soon after, the second twin came into the picture, as you became concerned when his arm was burned.

The familiar figures appeared in your field of vision and panic set in. You shoved all your notebooks in at once, leaving a mess in the locker, and ran out into the crowd. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the bright light of the campus, anxiously searching for the parking lot. The crowd around you didn't help calm your mind, but at least it kept you distracted. Before you could get away from the bustling area, however, you felt a sudden tug on the sleeve of your backpack, something that made you take a step back and stare in surprise at those eyes that, though they sparkled with a flirtatious sparkle, also reflected a darkness that unnerved you.

“Who are you looking for in such a hurry?” The voice of the older of the twins came through clearly, echoing in the air, as if it could make everything around you stop.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat instantly growing larger. You tried not to look directly into those piercing eyes, but you couldn't help it.

“Answer him, don't be rude” the other twin insisted, lightly slapping your back, you turned to see him with a dirty look but he just smirked at you mockingly.

“I'm not waiting for anyone, leave me alone”

You struggled some more to free yourself, but the older man held you even more firmly, as if he didn't plan to let you escape so easily. His hands were strong, his presence commanding. Something inside you stirred, you knew he was playing a game you didn't fully understand.

“Why are you like this with us? We just want to be with you, and this is how you treat us?” His voice sounded almost plaintive, though the frown and crossed arms gave him an air of defiance. The tone of his voice, that intertwining of frustration and desire, made you feel more uncomfortable than you had imagined.

You felt trapped, as if his every word was just another noose tightening your breath. You took a deep breath, seeking a moment of calm to collect your thoughts. Why did they keep insisting?

“I don't want to make you feel bad, but I just don't feel like I fit in with you” you finally managed to say, the words coming out with some regret, but also certainty. The feeling of being out of place, of not understanding why they were watching you like this, was even more uncomfortable for you than any other.

“Of course you fit in. If we're inviting you to spend the afternoon with us, it's for a reason. Do you know how many girls have tried to get into our plans? And you...you're just wasting the opportunity.”

The older twin's tone was becoming more persuasive, almost accusatory, as his eyes kept watching you with a mixture of frustration and a strange hopefulness. You could feel the tension in the air, as if every word out of his mouth was a challenge.

You felt caught between the desire to make them understand that it wasn't that easy for you and the growing discomfort of being under their constant observation. What did they really want from you? Why were they so insistent that you become part of their world?

“Do you really think it's that simple?” you asked, though the insecurity in your voice betrayed your thoughts. You knew their invitation wasn't as harmless as they were trying to make it seem. They were playing with your hair as you chose your words.

The oldest one let out a low chuckle, but his gaze was still fixed on you.

“You just don't get it, do you? We're not asking you for anything weird. We just want you to stop running away.” His voice, though warm, carried an urgency you couldn't ignore.

Silence settled between the two of you, and you could feel the weight of his presence, a warm sensation began to be felt on your arm, a noble but possessive caress. The younger one prostrated himself behind you letting his breath tickle you while the older one played with your hands.

“Come on, hang out with us for a while.”

You thought about it so much that you didn't have time to realize that they were already directing you to their carpool, maybe spending an afternoon with them might change your mind.

“Let me go, this isn't funny!” you moaned at the boys' warm touch against your button. The firm contact against your sensitive skin covered by your panties made a wet patch form.

They both started laughing excitedly, whispering various sick ideas of how to make you come or even the desire to take you by force and use you as their own living sex doll. They had such macabre ideas that they sounded sadistic and of course they were.

“Stop moving, love. You're going to have to take it whether you want to or not.” The younger one began to loosen his belt while the older one held your arms behind your back with one hand and the other painfully massaged your clitoris. You noticed the great length the youngest twin was carrying.

“God, I'm getting so hard”

He threatened as he smiled.

You protested uncontrollably but your nose was already touching the boy's hard abdomen.

“Open.”

Forcefully you opened your mouth as your hair was pulled hard to perform such an action, his member slowly entered to get used to the warmth of your mouth, lewd sounds rang throughout the room.

The older one complimented you and stroked your hair while the younger one grabbed your jaw and generated perverted comments. Your head was spinning as the tip of the cock hit your uvula, allowing you to breathe for four seconds before taking it again until your face became a mess of cum and saliva.

Now it was the other guy's turn, your head was crushed against the bed by the young man while the boy took off his boxer shorts and then lubricated his member with your liquid, he played with your entrance while you moaned with disgust but at the same time excitement.

You liked being held like this, you even liked them liking you and having them obsessed with you, being your stalkers and acting like an innocent lamb every time they came near you. Now they are taking you by force and without permission.

“Ah! f-fuck” you moaned highly when you felt his member open your entrance.

You felt so full having him inside you, you bit your lip as you looked at the boy who a few minutes ago abused your mouth and of course he would do it again. They were both moving their hips and their mouths were leaving sounds so high pitched they were driving you crazy, they were moaning your name and kinky nicknames like it was a love song.

“N-ngh, so fucking...g-good” heaving breaths only pronounced pleasure.

“I'm going to cum” pronounced both boys then moaned at length as their faces contorted in pleasure and your eyes turned white from so much pleasure too.

Your body collapsed at the end of that act, your breathing was up and down and you could only feel the long fingers of one of the twins playing with the dripping semen and reinserting it into your entrance.

It was going to be a long night.

hi guys 😔😔

[aoioozora]

Being Kieran's Darling: Headcanons

Divider by @bunnysrph , image by COPPERCORPSE (Pinterest)

Fluff hcs, fem reader :)

Shy, shy boy. How are you going to flirt with him without getting him so flustered? You decide to just settle with talking to him and initiating conversation for now. He speaks normally, but whenever you meet his eye, you find him looking away and blushing a bit.

Not a single theoretical clue on how to handle a lady, and yet he seems like a natural in practice. He holds your hand very tenderly, like you're made of glass. And he'll look between you and your hand in awe, as if he can't believe someone likes him back at all. He'll tell you how soft it is, even if you have callouses.

If he's feeling very brave, he might even venture to kiss the back of your hand or your wrist. And when you smile and blush at him, he feels encouraged to do it more often.

He likes to hear you talk, likes to hear you sing. And he always looks like he wants an encore.

Sometimes you'll invite him to lay his head on your lap. While his horse Branwen obliges as soon as you're sitting down, Kieran takes a bit of time to get over his shyness before he's ready. And when he finally does, you run your fingers through his hair and Branwen's mane and sing to them. Both feel like they're in heaven, especially Kieran.

You usually help out in mending clothes, and when he asks you to mend his, you always make sure to embroider a tiny heart in red thread where the mend was made. He is too shy to mention it, but he loves this gesture to death.

Sometimes both of you ride out of camp and find a quiet spot afar off to set up a little camp of your own. There, he starts a fire and cooks some rabbit he caught. Both of you share the fine meal and watch the stars, talking in quiet whispers. And when it's time to tuck yourselves in, you ask to cozy up next to him. He hesitates, but opens his arms for you.

He kisses a little too feebly because he's afraid of hurting you. You then ask him to put a little more pressure in his kisses. When he tries to, he accidentally puts a little too much. And when you pull away, you can't help but laugh at him for failing twice. He can't help it, he's never gotten a chance to kiss before. And so you show him the right pressure for a kiss.

There's a certain sparkle in his eyes if you talk to him about wanting to get married one day. Even the singular mention of it will have him dreaming of it all day; of your dress, his suit, the church and the vows, the rings, the party, the first night, a lifetime of happiness.

[writingsfromhome]

That’s so True

A/N: this one’s sort of from a request in my inbox but coincidentally I came across a reel where this song was from the guy’s pov and it + the comments obviously got me inspired (IG: itschloeduvall—recommend!). It’s not my best but here’s a mash of your and Harry’s POVs based somewhat on Gracie’s TST <3

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The stuffy room buzzed with the attendees of both schools that bordered our borough. There’s laughter and music flowing through the rooms and a laid-back atmosphere.

When our uniforms were on the school rivalry was always thick but at these sorts of house parties everyone was friendly. Yet despite it all I’m not as laid back as I want to be.

I lean against the kitchen island, and listen to my friends banter. From where I stand I can see the beer pong played on the table to my right but also all the way down the hall rammed with bodies to the front door.

“Bet you didn’t notice why I wore blue shadow,” Zoe bats her eyelashes up at me. She was a year younger than me and just as into me as all the other girls I’ve been with. She knew exactly how to handle herself and how to be fun. But that’s what made girls like Zoe cool. They adored you until they didn’t, and I would have fun with them before that expiry came around.

“I noticed,” I press a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Really?” She laughs and pulls away. “You didn’t say!”

“Not right now,” I look down at her. I remember the first time she approached me leaning against my car in the parking lot. It was just days after I ghosted my last fling and I didn’t think I was going to have a new one so soon but when life gives you lemons...

“Why?”

“I was going to save the admiring for later.”

“Oh?” She puts her hands on her hips but there’s a tipsy sparkle to her eye. “Harry I don’t need to just be admired in private!”

“I’m here with you tonight aren’t I?” I brush her cheek, kiss her neck. “This is me admiring you publicly.”

“Really?” She murmurs.

I kiss her long and lingering in response.

“Well I don’t mind—public or private.” Zoe says when we part. The look in her eyes undresses me right there.

I don’t know why I look up just then but my line of sight to the door shows me exactly who walked in.

YN’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and I nearly remember the feeling of my burning lips against them.

The memory comes flooding back in a rush—the night we sat in my car by the chilly beach. We’d been hooking up for a couple weeks by then. And she had been crying and trying not to, and for the first time in my life I’d wanted to take all the pain away from someone. And it terrified me.

It got too close; I hated how it made me feel. I hated how it lingered. I had no choice but to quit her cold turkey after that. I try to push all of that out of my mind when I feel Zoe's hand on my arm.

“Would you be mad if I wanted to leave early with you? I bummed some stuff off my friend we could hang out in your car…”

“We can leave early,” I promise her. She was hard to resist. “Let’s just act like we’re interested in being here first though.”

Zoe gives me a peck and leans into me, her cheek resting on my chest. My gaze drifts back to YN, just in time for her to look my way. I force my eyes to slide off of her, she didn’t mean anything special. She wasn’t any more special than the girl in my arms.

But I can’t deny the physical jolt that goes through me, how the blood roars in my ears in the split second we locked eyes.

Fuck that. I don’t care. She should know I don’t. I imagine her watching me with Zoe, knowing she and I would only ever be another discarded fling.

“Your heart’s racing,” Zoe comments, cheek still glued to my chest.

“Feeling restless. I’m grabbing a drink.” I leave her a lingering kiss before I head to the beer pong part of the kitchen. But a sensation creeps up my neck I can’t shake.

I end chatting with some of the guys watching a football match—knowing them from the team when I played last season.

Zoe eventually joins me after making eyes at me across the room from the kitchen where she was caught in conversation. And even though there’s a few inches of space beside me and Marty on the couch she wriggles her way in, most of her body draped over me.

I don’t mind it, she was miniature sized. I tell her that.

“I could fit you in my pocket,” I muse.

She presses her palms into my chest, her eyes dark with want. “If I’m in your trousers I don’t want to be in your pockets.”

She laughs into the next kiss.

She really didn’t hold back.

“Watch watch watch,” Marty shoves my knee, jostling both Zoe and I as he leans forward on the couch beside us. “He’s gonna make thaaat—aw bollocks!”

We all laugh at Marty’s favourite player messes up a perfectly set-up goal.

“Y’sure he’s not getting paid on the side?” I joke.

“You shut your mouth,” he barely spares a glance to me, his eyes glued to the telly. “He’s a genuinely good guy.”

I glance at Zoe and amusement colours her face. I’m about to tell her something about the game when I feel a prick on the back of my neck. I glance around and there she is as real as the last time I saw her, her presence burning into my skin.

Zoe mirrors me, glancing around but clearly YN didn’t draw her in like she did me.

I distract her, tuck her hair behind her ear. If YN was watching I want her to see it all. I undo the clip in Zoe’s hair and it falls around her face. And just like she usually does, she cranes her face towards mine and I kiss her. She’s soft and smells like vanilla and vodka. She was confident and sexy but I’m bottomed out with a hollow feeling.

I fill it by kissing her again, desperate to get rid of it. Or maybe I just needed to get more drunk.

But my eyes betray me, flicking up briefly to YN. Her poker face betrays her with the clench of her jaw. I could hear her voice in my head accusing me of using Zoe, of being a coward. My heart picks up speed but I push it all down and focus on Zoe’s touch.

Maybe I was just feeling guilty because I knew she was going through a tough time personally. But it wasn’t my responsibility. I was a good person for feeling bad. I didn’t actually care about her.

-Your POV-

I only know time is passing because the muffled beats of the songs start and end like clockwork. Otherwise, I stay sitting on the garage steps in the dark. I’ve stopped noticing the dusty oil smell that clings to the air—it's all blended into the dark.

The party was getting too much as soon as I stepped in but I forced myself to stay because of my friends. But then an hour ago I was forced to stand there and watch Harry and his new girl slobber all over each other. I bided my time until my friends stopped watching me like a dog waiting to bolt—not that I could blame them. Because I bolted as soon as they stopped watching.

I wish I could get over it. All of it. Everything felt so heavy all the time.

Grams was moving to be closer to her sister now that she lived alone ever since Grandpa……left.

I couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t I do the same? I was so selfishly thinking in the short-term when we both knew I’d be out of this damn town in a few months. And, I already booked my ticket to visit her this summer. It was supposed to be fine, right?

But why couldn’t I just move on?

And Harry. Fucking Harry. Why the hell did he get to me? He was taunting me and I was letting him.

But only in the dark here, slightly tipsy, a small part of me admits the hurt. It hurt.

But why? He was just some guy I had a short thing with. I wanted to lose myself to a fun casual fling. He was the type of guy who just liked to have fun, nothing serious. I knew it going in.

But he saw me so vulnerable. And the thing that gets me is how much he actually seemed like he cared that night. How his eyes drank in everything I was feeling and in that it felt like I wasn’t alone.

He surprised me by being sweet—which my rational brain knows is just a honey trap for girls. But it felt so genuine, like he truly was being sweet for me. How could I get over something like that!

Move on. He obviously has.

I let my eyes flick over to my phone, just for a second. I’m tempted to look at the stories from the party, from everyone inside. The party that I’m separated from by a single door—FOMO.

That’s a new low.

I pull my gaze away and try to ignore the impulse.

He had noticed me when I walked in. Even though he looked away I know he saw me because I saw him.

I’d heard he moved on—it’s crazy that this time last week we were in his car together. I was ready to trickle off after that heavy night but not before having a talk with him. It’s not like I was expecting him to be waiting around for me but I also didn’t expect him to be so cruel showing off and being obnoxious right in front of me with this new chick.

"Nah, I got it!" A voice near the door says. My heart skips a beat for a second. The voice—his voice. But it fades as quickly as it came.

I'm about to let out a sigh when the door swings open and a flood of light spills into the garage. It's blinding at first.

“Where the—ahh!” I whip my head up, but of course, I don’t need to see him to know it’s him.

He stands there, wide-eyed, caught off guard for a split second. Then he recovers, straightens his shoulders.

"What the fuck, YN?"

I don’t even answer him. I just turn away, chin on my knees, staring back into the dark.

In my silence he goes down leaving the door open a sliver to let the light in so he can see. I hold my breath when he passes, knowing breathing him in would engulf me in the exact same way it used to.

Not that I was nostalgic for it but I didn't want my brain playing tricks on me when I was a sitting duck here.

I track him as he heads to a small pile in the corner of the confined garage and pulls out a few six-packs. He stacks a couple and comes back my way.

There’s just enough space on the stairs for him to sit beside me without crowding me, and I can feel him hovering. I can feel him deciding whether to stay or leave.

Damnit. The step creaks softly as he chooses to sit, the door still cracked open behind him, casting a slice of light across his face.

I breathe in, catching the familiar scent of him. It floods my senses, sharp and heady like it used to. Shit.

I hate that a part of me wants to tell him to screw whatever game he was playing with me and just meet me upstairs. Somewhere dark and tucked away. But my dignity and the reminder of an unanswered text makes me pretend he didn’t affect me.

I hear the shift of cans in his hands. "Are you sulking out here?"

His voice is casual. Like us. Casual. He’s playing this like we can just go back to being nobody-classmates with each other.

I glare in the dark. "What’s it to you?"

"Didn’t take you for the sulking type," he says, leaning back a little like he’s amused by me.

"Well, that’s reassuring."

"What is?"

"How you don’t know me."

Our eyes meet for a beat, and it feels too much like everything between us again. But then his eyes crinkle with a cocky amusement and it pisses me off. Like he knows how annoying he is right now and it’s entertainment.

He adjusts the beer in his hands, then tilts his head toward the door, like I’m the weird one for not being inside with the rest of the people at the party.

"Why are you out here when the party's in there?"

I don’t answer right away. I can feel my pulse thrumming too loudly in my neck. I feel awashed in shame, hot waves down my neck; he knew exactly why I might be out here when the party’s in there. Is he playing dumb to show me how much he never cared, how unimportant my story was? Or is he trying to get me vulnerable again?

"None of your business," I snap, turning away.

The silence lingers a moment, but then—"s’it because of me?"

I blink. Did he just ask me that? He can’t possibly be that bold. And yet, the question is spoken like a secret.

I feel a sharp rush of irritation flood my chest. How dare he pity me. "Because of you?" I ask. "Do you really think the small blip of time we spent together affected me enough to isolate myself out here just because you brought some new shiny toy to the party? Get over yourself, Harry. I’ve got bigger things going on in my life."

For a moment, his face falls, the amusement fading, but it’s gone in a flash. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but the shout of someone inside calls his name. "Hurry up, man!"

I glance at him, his face had hardened into the cocky fuckboy we all know him to be. A complete contrast to the face that watched me that night.

He never existed.

"The eyes don’t lie," he says, leaning in just a little, his usual cocky smirk crawling back into place. "I see the way you’ve been watching me all night, YN. Say what you want to say—"

"Why are you here?” I interrupt. My skin prickles, my pulse quickening. I had something to say but he was making me too angry to say it. My words were for a gentler Harry, not this fucker. “Is it just to bother me because you can leave.”

He pauses, just for a second, his eyes darkening, but then he shrugs and gets up to go. "Well, sorry you’re missing out."

"I’m not missing out," I turn to say, my voice hoarse. "I’m just taking a breather."

But even as I say it, the words feel like a lie.

I stare at him, standing in the doorway. He pauses, half-turning. The smirk’s still there, but it’s thinner, like he’s pushing something down.

"Sad, sad girl," he murmurs, shaking his head, as if he's disappointed in me.

I scramble to get up--to cuss him out, to launch myself at him, I really don't know what; his condescending cocky tone sets something off in me.

But he knows exactly what that would do to me. By the time l've untwisted myself the door is slamming shut behind him and I'm left in the dark.

I swear loudly, the sound echoing off the walls like a threat. My fists clench. "Fuck him," I mutter.

All that responds is the silence and it feels suffocating.

-Harry’s POV-

She’s won’t give me the satisfaction of following me up but I know it gets to her—the way she stiffened when I said she was "missing out." And I know I’m a dick but it’s because for a moment there I almost fucked it all up and asked if she was okay.

I pull a new beer out, pop the cap, and take a long drink.

Your ego’s bruised, you’re trying to be cruel to hurt her.

I drink more.

I liked having fun. It’s part of being young—before I get old and have to settle down and get serious like all the adults in my life. I want to meet all kinds of girls and just have fun. I want to live without looking back with regrets—so no strings attached and no consequences.

Then she had to come along. With that sharp wit and broody eyes. She just approached me at a party like this one one day and by the end of the night we were hooking up.

My parents had been away for the weekend so the only thing to do was invite everyone over. But what started out as inviting my group, their dates, and some other girls led to nearly the entire class in my home.

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” my sister had said before she left the house. “You better clean it all up before she gets back and I’m not helping.”

“Duh,” I say. But it’s overwhelming this many people in my house.

After a few beers the overwhelm shies down to a forgotten thought in the back of my mind. I’m the man of the hour because I was throwing the party. Usually I was just attending them. This was different. Good-different.

Some of the guys are playing video games and I settle with one of the controllers but my loss is so painful I have to leave to get another drink and stay a few feet from any of the controllers.

After fucking around in the den and flirting with a couple girls younger than me I can’t remember the names of, I go back to where the game is being played.

My spot’s been occupied by YN—I’ve been in school with her for years but we’d only spoken a handful of times. We ran in different circles and she didn’t always show up to parties. But tonight she has a controller in her hand and her face is scrunched in concentration. It’s cute.

YN was cute, she was really smart and everyone knew she was going to graduate and do things that made the rest of us say we knew her when…

But in that way she was out of my league. Girls like her never bothered to hook up. They were always studying or in committed relationships. Last I heard she was dating someone in the year above us but they broke up before he graduated.

So that’s why I’m taken aback when she comes in second place and cheers with first. She knocks back her drink in celebration and somehow her eyes find mine.

I raise my brows and lift my beer to her. She grins and her face lights up—she’s really cute. I laugh and she mocks a bow while sitting. I shake my head at her before her attention’s stolen by first place asking her to play again.

My heart is pounding and I can’t stop looking her way. She agrees to playing again and even though I miss the round when I have to find more drinks, by the time I come back she’s just leaning into the couch, arms crossed and drink resting against her. She watches the screen but she glances when I walk back in.

She looks away. Then she looks back.

There’s a challenge in her eyes but I don’t know what she playing at. Girls like her simply didn’t hook up with guys like me so I didn’t want to read the signs wrong. She was probably being friendly and she was drunk.

But the stars must have been misaligned because after making eyes she stands confidently and walks over to me.

Her shoulders are bare in a sweater that wraps around them and when she comes closer it’s in a wave of a sharp clean scent. Her skin looks tantalizing like she’s put something glittery on it and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her face and listen close above the music and my heart beating in my ears.

“You’re not jealous are you?” She asks.

“Of what?”

“Well I saw you playing earlier and it was…” she bites her lip.

“What?” I shake my head seriously. “You didn’t see that absolute loss happening from me.”

“I didn’t?” She raises her brow. “So that wasn’t you?”

“No! No it wasn’t. I uh, have a twin. Total loser. Didn’t you know?”

“A twin?” She asks with humour in her eyes. And I can’t believe her as she moves closer to me. The magnetism emanates from this new confidence she talks to me with. “What’s his name?”

“Why? Are you interested?” I ask.

“Well,” she blinks. “Clearly he needs some tips from a pro. I thought you could introduce me and I can show him how to win.”

Now she’s inches from me. I’ve done this dance a million times and yet I feel like I’m in unchartered territory. I always had the upper hand but she was catching me off guard. I had to flip this.

“Show him how to win?” I ask. I decide to make the first move, touch her. I take the hair that’s spilled over her shoulder and brush it back. Her eyes flicker down to my lips. “Why would a pretty girl like you waste your time doing that?”

“I’m more than a pretty girl.”

“Yeah I know. You’re smart as shit and a total killer over there.”

“Mhm,” she says. The sound shoots straight into my chest. “So? You won’t even introduce us? Tell me his name?”

“My brother…isn’t really your type.”

My hand slides down her back to her waist. Her hand comes up to my chest, up to my shoulders. I want to kiss her. Bad. Know what she felt like.

“You sound jealous. Won’t even give me his info.”

“Uh well,” do I kiss her—does she know I’m not into serious dating. “He’s…Gary….Styles.”

We lock eyes and then spring apart as laughter spills between us.

“Oh my god,” I choke. “I can’t believe that just-“

“Gary?!” She cries. “Was that-was that the best you could…”

She’s laughing too hard to finish, crouching down to contain herself.

“I was trying to think of a rhyming name!”

“Sure!” She tries to breath through her laugh. “Name him the most unsexiest thing ever!”

I laugh again. “I told you he wasn’t your type!”

That sets her off again and there’s a warm pride filling my chest at making her laugh this hard. Most people found me funny but seeing smart and pretty YN crouching down on my living room floor from laughing so hard, standing and brushing the tears out of her eyes—I could float on this feeling for a while.

“Fine.” She’s still smiling and I’m grinning just being around her. YN was cool—who knew. “Forget Gary.”

I slap my hand over my face and she laughs as she says it.

“C’mon,” she peels my hand off and instead of letting go she places it back on her waist. “You’ll do if he’s not around.”

“I-I’ll do?” I’m once again caught off guard. And if my ego wasn’t so inflated by her attention and laughter I would be fighting for dominance but she takes the lead once more. Like she was cool and confident and she knows what she’s doing.

“Yeah? Have you never hooked up Harry? I thought that’s what you did? Or was that your brother all along?”

“No!” I tug her waist. “That’s definitely me. Gary has no game.”

“Naturally,” she nods. “This is your place right? I’m guessing you have a room?”

She’s bold. Direct about what she wants from me. It’s different.

“I have to sleep in the room under the stairs. Gary has a bedroom upstairs though.”

“So all Harry’s sleep under the stairs then?” She grins. I laugh. She was cool. And funny. And cute, and flirty, and I wanted to kiss her.

“Most of them.” I look at her lips, they’ve got that glossy stuff on them and I imagine they taste like strawberries.

She quiets and leans in and when our eyes meet again I know she's thinking about kissing me too. We’re caught in limbo and when she tips forward it’s all the confirmation I need.

I grab the back of her head and bring our mouths together. She didn’t taste like strawberries. It was minty instead and the coolness prickles my lips as she trails her fingers up my neck.

My hands slide to her waist as we kiss and she moans when I slide my tongue into her mouth. She was so soft, and real. Her hands were on my chest, sliding over the fabric of my shirt. Holy fuck I was kissing YN. The feel of her lips was like a drug and I needed to get my fix.

I wanted to get closer. Know what her skin felt like under my palm. The idea made my heart beat faster. My hands travel there before I could think, my thumbs rubbing circles into her lower back.

“Maybe,” she breaks the kiss. Her eyes as dark as mine and her chest heaves against me. “Not here? We can find that bedroom.”

“Just what I was gonna say,” I can’t take my eyes off her. I don’t care how many people were here I wanted my lips back on her.

“So!?” She tugs me out of my daze and I apologize.

With a hand on the small of her back I guide her upstairs to my bedroom. Nobody’s here just like I told them not to be and by the time I close the door her gaze is flitting around my room.

“You like music?” She asks, pointing to the guitar and CDs in the corner of my room.

“I live and breathe it. Sorry for-“ I point to my clothes laying on my chair and the bed. I toss the ones on the bed onto the chair. I didn’t think I was hooking up with anyone like this tonight, too occupied with cleaning up later.

“You should see mine,” she shakes her head.

“Really? You seem like your room would be perfect.”

“Perfect?” Something flits across her face. “No. Definitely not. ”These days my room looks like a storm’s swept through.”

I walk back to her and brush her hair back again. Here, away from everyone else, she’s a little less bold. She’s softer. That overwhelming need to kiss her is still there but it’s enveloped by a need to hold her too. To savour her.

“My mum always says your room’s a reflection of your mind.” I say. “She’s always disappointed in mine.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Ha! That must be true.”

The look on her face again. I want to ask but I sense she doesn’t want to be asked. She looks behind us to my music instead.

“Yours must have a lot of music in it.”

“Yeah. Every moment.” I go with the change in subject. It wasn’t my business.

“Even this one?”

“Mhm,” I hum. I pull her in from her waist and press a kiss to her throat. I whisper against her skin, “Even this ones.”

Her body shudders and her voice is barely audible when she asks, “And what’s playing?”

I smile against her.

"You.” I tell her. “Your breath, your laugh, your heartbeat. It's a tune unique to you. Your song.”

“You’re good,” she laughs quietly before tilting her head towards me and our lips find each other again. This time we're alone and I don't feel bad for exploring. She was the most beautiful and surprising person I'd met and I didn’t want her to slip through my fingers.

She makes quick work of her sweater, pulling it over her head. It takes my breath away.

"Y’okay?" she asks.

I don’t know what to tell her with all the feelings rushing through me pumping with every racing heartbeat. So I go with, "You're beautiful."

Her face softens, I want her even more.

Her hands cup my face and I lean into her touch as she kisses me again. I let her have control for a bit, but her control is measured and soft and exploring. It feels careful.

She begins to take my shirt off and I do the rest, tossing it to the side. I nudge her gently towards the bed and she scoots up, taking down her hair. I never in a million years thought I would have her in my bed. That I would get to see this side of her. I feel lucky in a way. Luckier than anyone downstairs.

"So goddamn perfect," I say again. I climb onto the bed and kiss her lips. I work my way to her neck. It's the best thing I've had in a while. I reach her shoulder and suck at the skin there, the sound that escapes her lips is intoxicating. I want to hear it again.

I reach her collarbone, trailing wet kisses; she’s so much more perfect than I'd imagined. As we move and explore each other, she feels amazing but I pause when she slows down.

"What?" she asks.

"Are you…it’s just...you’re…" her eyes flash and I can tell she’s embarrassed that I’m pointing it out.

"I'm sorry," she blinks a bunch. “It’s sorta been a while?”

“That’s okay. That’s alright. We can take it slow.”

She nods and doesn’t speak.

“Is this okay? What do you want?"

"I want you." She's staring up at me and I see the want clear as day. “Not slow.”

The words go straight to my core."Then you have me."

Her hand trails down as I kiss her and it’s tentative as it reaches lower and lower. Warmth cascades down my body and I feel like I’m in a dream.

“You’re amazing YN,” I tell her. “You feel amazing.”

I tilt her head back for the taste of her, bite the skin of her shoulder. Her sounds alone drive me crazy. But I’m priming her, making sure she’d ready. When she buckles her hips into mine I tug at the elastic of her panties.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"Say it."

"Yes," she breathes. “God, you’re bossy. S’okay.”

I pull the dainty fabric off with a smile and throw them to the floor. She nods when I look at her, her eyes are hooded and dark . “Protection?"

"I have some." I lean over and dig through my nightstand. When I sit back she’s quiet but I’m focused with the task at hand so she catches my by surprise with her question.

“H-how many girls do you hook up with?"

I look up at her and she's watching me with those dark broody eyes. They're so wide and so deep and I’m drowning.

"Some."

"That's…not an answer."

"It is. You’re not getting posessive are you? We’re still haven’t finished getting to know each other.”

She flushes furiously.

"So a lot then," she continues.

I laugh. "Do you usually do this? Is this some sort of foreplay?"

"I-i just-I want to be sure you’re-“

“I’m clean.” I promise her when I realize why she’s asking. Idiot Harry. “Plus we’re using protection.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Okay. Good. Now come back here.”

She gasps when I sink into her and I can't help the curse that escapes.

She responds with her own impatient expletives. There’s a desperation in her voice that sets me off as her nails dig into me, like she wanted to lose herself here.

She’s present as we flow in my bed but I know when I’ve lost her, as her grip loosens and her eyelids flutter shut.

We collapse onto the bed, chests rising and falling as we finished one after the other. Her hair is splayed out on my pillow, her head resting on my arm and she looks angelic. I kiss her neck slowly, peppering kisses onto her shoulder, stroking her back. Slowly bringing her back. Gently.

"Harry,” she says my name. Breathes it. It makes my stomach drop. Something about her was stirring something within me and it was exhilarating but scary. I splay my hand on her abdomen and bend to kiss her, she’s more pliable than before, clearly spent.

"Stay here," I whisper. It’s the wrong thing to say but I don’t care about the party anymore. I just want to stay here and continue exploring this perfect woman here. Before she goes back to being the YN I knew from school. The one who I previously thought would never crawl into my bed willingly.

She blinks. "But the party-“

“Party’s fine without us for a bit.”

She smiles. "Okay. Fine."

I hold her against my chest and we stay like that. Neither of us speaking. Yet I can tell there's something on her mind. Has been most of the time we were together.

I almost ask if she wants to talk but remember she wasn’t my girlfriend, my anything. She was here to hook up not spill her feelings. I didn’t do feelings—I wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend for a reason.

Her fingers trace shapes into my chest and it feels nice. The softness is new so is the cuddling—if I stayed in bed like this with a girl it was usually to gear up for round two. But this is different, we’re simply just catching our breath and existing in this space together.

"I think I should go," she whispers, sitting up after a while.

"What?"

"Your party, won’t they notice you’re missing."

"And?”

“You should get back. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah," I sit up, I didn’t think I could convince her to stay. “Through there."

She nods and walks away with a few of her items. When the door closes, I can hear her sniffling. I want to go in but it would feel like an invasion of her privacy and our boundaries. I lay back and wait.

When she comes out, her hair is brushed and her makeup is fixed. She looks like she did when she came into the party. Except she’s only got a bra on.

“You missed a spot.” I tease. She blushes, self-conscious and so different to before.

“I did,” she plays it off. “D’you see my top?”

I spot it on the floor beside me and pick it up. She waits for me to get to her and reaches for it but I hold it tight.

“Are you holding my sweater hostage now?” She asks.

“No,” I don’t know what comes over me but I scrunch it and hold it over her head. She blushes again as I pull it over which isn’t very hard with how wide the neckhole is. It drapes back down below her shoulders. I usually undressed girls, I think this was the first time I helped one get dressed.

“You’re sweeter than you look.” She says once her arms are through.

“This is just so I can undress you again,” I tease.

I kiss her sweet and slow and it takes her by surprise. She leans back a bit but then meets me again, melting into me.

“We should get you a drink.” I tell her. She needed to relax more. She was suddenly tense after what we did.

“Ok. Yeah. A drink sounds nice.”

And so I spent the rest of the night with her, and she stayed tucked beside me with a quiet strength and a whisper of a smile the whole time.

Now she’s wriggled through every fucking belief I had and got too deep into my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. About the last time we were together. About how different she was. How the girl I saw in school and the girl she was in the dark with me were like night and day.

I want her and I hate that I do.

“Where’d you go?” Zoe asks, her voice tugging me back into the moment. Her fingers brush against my arm as I zone out.

“Huh?”

“The garage isn’t that big,” she says, eyebrows raised, clearly confused by my distance.

I offer a quick grin, leaning in a little too close. “No, but you know what is?”

It’s enough to get her laughing, pulling me closer. It works—just like it always does. But even as her hands trail down my chest, I’m somewhere else.

Zoe pulls me back into the present, tugging me to the dining room packed with friends now that beer pong is over. She sits on my lap, head resting on my shoulder as one of my friends tells some story about a haunted house down the street and we’ve all drunk enough to listen aptly.

Even in the middle of this, I find my eyes drifting across the room. YN, back from her garage break. She’s talking to somebody, a friend. Her friend touches her shoulder, tucks her hair behind her ear. I remember doing that too.

My stomach sinks as I remember the way her hair felt in my hands, how I could pull it into a knot, bury my face in the warmth of her neck. Her scent was sharp and clean, like fresh laundry and something else—an addictive kind of feminine softness that I couldn’t put into words but got into my bones.

Her gaze shifts, and I catch her eyes. It’s like a punch to the chest. I can’t look away. Not now, not when I see the flicker of something in her expression—something that was there that last night together in the car.

I found out later her grandfather passed a few weeks before. He had been sick for a while and she’d practically been raised by her grandparents so she’d been so broken after it; I told myself I wasn’t going to get too involved, that it wasn’t my job to fix her, but of course I couldn’t help it. Not when her eyes grew teary and doe-like. That night I did things I swore I never would. I comforted her feelings and held her, I let my guard down.

But then I ran once I realized I was in too deep, once I felt her pulling away. I left her alone with her grief.

I feel self-loathing creeping in, sharp and insistent. What the hell am I doing? I can’t shake this feeling, this pull toward YN, it’s not supposed to be this way.

It’s her fault. I keep telling myself that, over and over, like a mantra. If she really wanted something with me, she wouldn’t have stopped replying to my texts the day after.

And when I was down there in the garage with her, it was just us. There was no one else. It was a test—she could’ve been honest. But she wasn’t. She chose to shut me out. So now I have to be cruel. I have to push aside all this stupid, complicated shit in my head and make sure she knows I’m not going to chase her down.

I shove the thoughts of YN aside, convincing myself it’s not a big deal and tighten my arm around Zoe. I tune back into the story being swapped,the groups laugh about all the pranks and fights the schools have gotten into.

They pull me in, accusing me of skipping out on the last prank.

I laugh. "Nah, mate, you should’ve seriously seen it! Last time I went down there, I almost got my ass kicked!"

"Don’t tell me you were actually scared Styles?" one of the guys pipes in.

"Scared? Nah. I call it being smart," I say, but the words come out louder, more exaggerated than I mean. I can feel YN’s eyes on me from across the room. I want her to see me having fun, see me living my life like I don’t give a shit. I want her to think this could have been her.

A small part of me knows I’m being shitty but the drunk part of me shuts it up.

I take another swig, making a point of not looking over at her, even though I can feel the weight of her gaze on the back of my neck. But my eyes betray me when she walks out of the room altogether.

-Your POV-

We make eyes from across the room. The look is so intense, it feels like he’s reaching across the space between us, pulling me in like gravity.

Why the fuck are you still looking at him, I think.

I turn back to my best friend, trying to focus on anything other than him.

“…you should spend as much time as you can with her before she moves,” she continues what she was saying. “Be mad later.”

"I’m trying to be mad later," I insist. “I’m trying to savor the time now, but…” I let out a frustrated sigh. "When I’m not there—like tonight, I’m thinking about how I’m not with her. And when I’m with her, I’m just mad and want to get away.”

“That’s so fucking complicated,” she says, staring at me like she can’t quite make sense of my mess either.

I want to explain, really I do, but it’s too much. And right now all I can hear is Harry’s laugh cutting through the noise of the room. It feels like nails on a chalkboard. But then, a beat later, I can’t stop myself from looking.

And there he is, tugging at some girl with that stupid cocky grin of his. Josie or Zoey or something, I don’t even know her name, pretty sure she was younger than us, but she was in poster club with me and even though we didn’t really talk she was cool. Part of me feels bad for her, wants to warn her.

But I wasn’t over it enough, I wasn’t that evolved as hard as I wished I was. And it didn’t matter, because it’s not about her. It’s about me. The way his hands are so familiar as they slip through her hair, and my stomach turns at the memory of how we did that once or twice.

I don’t even know what I want from him at this point.

“He’s such a dick,” my friend says, clearly reading me like a book. “He’s obviously doing that to make you jealous.”

“No, he’s not," I snap, but my voice cracks just slightly. "He doesn’t care. He’s just a player."

“Then why else would he be so damn obnoxious?” she presses, but I don’t have an answer.

At first I was hurt and confused when he straight up ghosted me when I tried to communicate with him after. Then it made me angry. And now seeing him with her—I knew who he was as a player, I didn’t expect anything different. But that night he was so different. And the callous way he’s being tonight makes my heart chip a little.

“He’s just like that,” I reply stiffly. “That’s Harry. I don’t know what I saw in that.”

She shrugs. “He was just some fun for you. You deserved to have some fun after everything at home—sorry.”

“It’s true,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb along the rim of my cup.

She didn’t have to apologize. I had been looking for a distraction, looking for something to take me away from the heaviness at home. Grandpa’s sickness. The waiting. The slow, aching loss of him. The aftermath.

“Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head at Harry’s antics across the room, “he’s usually loud, but not like this. He’s putting on a show. Dickhead. It’s his loss for ghosting you.”

I nod, but it feels hollow. Because, in a way, I ghosted him first. After that night, when he was too kind and I didn’t know how to handle it, I shut down. I avoided him the next day. But when I wanted to talk he avoided me right back. I thought he just wanted space but a few days later I see him flirting with her. He’d just ignored me and moved on.

“Guys like him end up fat or bald by the time they’re thirty,” she jokes, dragging me out of my head. “He’s just another dude—don’t waste any more time on him. Let’s go somewhere else.”

I let her pull me away, though it takes everything in me not to glance back. But as we pass, I feel his eyes on me. I know, because I feel the heat of them burning through my skin, even without turning around. I fight the urge to look. Fuck him, I think, holding my head high as we walk towards another part of the house.

-Harry’s POV-

...What the hell am I doing?

The thought has been a constant echo in my for the last week no matter how much I distract it or smother it with alcohol. I feel like I’m being haunted.

All week I see YN in the regular spots at school but it’s always a reminder of not only our time together and how different things felt with her, but also how she was going through a hard time. How I was being cruel.

Jeez is this what it was to be sensitive. I fucking hated it.

It’s after school and I’m late to leave, walking down a mostly empty hallway. And of course I catch a glimpse of her in the computer room. Probably working on yearbook or whatever other club she was in.

That’s part of why it was so surprising when she approached me that night. When she willingly became a notch in my bedpost. It only took a couple weeks to find out she had been looking for a distraction. Usually that was my forte.

I linger, my heart wanting me to go in but my head screaming at me to go. I finally choose head and start walking away. But my squeaking shoe catches her attention and she looks up.

We have an awkward stare off. She swallows and looks away.

“Do you need something?”

I don’t expect her to ask.

I walk forward and lean against the doorframe. She can pretend she’s over it all she wants, but her cheeks are pink.

"I was just helping coach with something. I saw you and…"

I don’t mean for it to come out. God why did she have to make me feel awkward. I was never awkward. I didn’t feel awkward.

“Are you doing your nerdy shit?” I try to switch gears, slip into cocky jock but she’s too real. She doesn’t let me.

“Seriously? Are you trying to make casual conversation with me again?”

“Why not?”

“Why not.” She scoffs.

“No seriously YN why the fuck not?” I demand. None of the other girls I hooked up with did this! Once we were over they either treated me like it never happened and continued being friendly, or they just moved on themselves to someone else. None of them looked at me the way she did. Bit at me like she.

You also didn’t want them like you did her.

“You’re really playing the stupid angle. Or maybe it’s not playing.” She mumbles the last part but I still catch it.

I move a few steps into the room.

She sighs. “I don’t want this cocky…jocky Harry okay?”

“Okay.” I put my hands up; I also couldn’t give her the Harry from that night if that’s what she wanted. But I let my defences down a little. “Why can’t I make conversation with you?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s an unanswered text in your phone from weeks ago? Asking to talk?”

I don’t respond. Of course there was.

She gets fed up when I don’t reply, “So if you want to talk then I’m okay to talk about that. Otherwise I’m not interested.”

“You want to talk about that?!” I go for the humiliating angle and hate myself for it. “We weren’t a couple you know that right? We were just sleeping together and then we weren’t. There’s no us to talk about.”

Her eyes are rimmed red when she looks at me, anger burning in her eyes. A part of me acknowledges the hurt.

“I. Know.” She says slowly. “I’m the one that approached you to hook up. I know we weren’t dating or something. But I dumped a bunch of baggage on you when I didn’t mean to. A-all I wanted to do was apologize like a decent person. But you’re obviously too much of a dick to understand that. You thought I was like, hung up over you and your new fling!?”

I’m dumbstruck. My pride is shot to space. She wanted to apologize? For opening up? I was a dick.

I can hear voices coming down the hall. I don’t want anyone to hear this, to tarnish my image with whatever softness was here. I push the door closed and walk to where she sits, perching on the chair next to her.

"What are you doing?" she snaps, glaring at me.

"You wanted to talk" I shoot back.

“Don’t insult me and act like you care what else I have to say Harry. I’m sure you can find some other girl around this late if you’re killing time or something.”

“I want to listen.”

“No you don’t. I got that hint pretty clearly when you ghosted me.”

"I was ghosted first," I retort, like a petulant child.

"I had a good reas—actually that wasn’t even ghosting I was just taking some space to-" her words are clipped. "I wanted to collect myself before I spoke to you. Make sure I was in the right headspace. You on the other hand had no reason to cut me off."

"Cut you off?” I challenge.

"What's your excuse?" she rolls her eyes.

"I wasn’t ghosting you I-it-it's just wasn’t that deep," I say, trying to sound casual. Way to go you stuttering idiot.

She stares at me, a million emotions flickering on her face. I can almost hear her say it that night was deep to me. Or maybe it’s my own voice saying it.

But then her face blanks, like she’s given up.

"Well, whatever. I'm sorry," she replies even though I expect her to continue arguing with me.

I stare; her hair was pulled away from her face today into a half bun thing and her lips are glossed. I know what they taste like and that thought makes my stomach dip and lose focus.

She must think I’m confused because she sighs, “for dumping my baggage on you and for making you uncomfortable? M’sorry for asking you to handle me with care when we were just hooking up. I don’t-“

“Stop.” I can’t handle it anymore. “That’s enough already.”

How was she still somehow decent. Why did she make me feel like I wanted to protect her, tuck her away and save her. It scared me. I never felt this way—girls were just fun.

"I'm not mad," I say, the words tumbling out of me. "I just didn't know how to respond, okay?"

"That's why people say things," she snaps, exasperated. "Discuss things so you can sort out what to say.”

“Look,” I snap. “You’re obviously the most…I don’t fucking know. I don’t normally do this. You’re the most serious or…mature person I’ve ever…hooked up with? Nobody…I don’t know what I’m doing ok? I’m out of my fucking depth here.”

“And I know.” She emphasizes. “That’s why I said I was sorry!”

“No! Not like that I’m not trying to make you feel bad-“

We quiet as a group of people walk past the door, in the silence I realize how loud we’d gotten. She must too.

She leans forward, her tone serious. "Do you actually want to talk about it?"

I swallow, trying to collect myself. Trying not to get lost in her eyes. Trying to ignore the tugging in my stomach, the desire to touch her.

“Obviously not. But I’m trying to not be a dick or whatever.”

"Can we start with the text first?" She crosses her arms.

"Ok," I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. "I'm sorry for ignoring you. It's just easier for me if I'm an asshole.”

It’s easier to apologize now that she has. Easier to want to be decent and not cruel. For a second I glimpse us reconciling, her allowing me to touch her with a tenderness I’ve never felt before.

So I backtrack. I couldn’t do this open honest shite. I had to wrap it up tell her I couldn’t do feelings. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t me around her.

“I didn’t mind that you wanted someone to talk to. Like it was a lot but…I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m used to hooking up and no messy feelings okay? And you didn’t text me back the next day so I moved on. But didn’t realize you wanted to apologize.”

“Okay…”

“No hard feelings seeing me with other people though—like, I’m chill if you wanted to hang out some time but-

“That’s alright.” Her jaw clenches, I get the sense that I’m saying all the wrong things. And yet I feel so desperate and clingy inside.

“Not that-I get why you were uhm…” I freeze. I’ve never had a reaction like this—I’m just frozen.

She studies me and I try not to squirm. I’m afraid of what the results of her study show her.

“Right.”

We sit in an awkward silence until I can find my voice. “It was a lot. And I wanted to ignore it.”

“Yeah. Yep. I got that. Thanks.”

She was done. I wrack my brain. She was just apologizing and now she’s trying to end the conversation.

“Is that it?” I ask when her eyes flick back to her screen, now a screensaver.

“I guess so.” She says. And I’m stumbling over my thoughts to think of something else to say. All this time she really was just mad that I didn’t reply? She just wanted to apologize and go back like nothing ever happened. All those biting words and hurtful glares weren’t because I was with another girl?

Was I imagining all that fucking chemistry?

“You got…it out of your system?”

“Yeah!?” She glances at me. “I’m fine. I know what I know—I’m just a girl and you’re just another dude right? I got to say what I wanted. Two ships passing in the night and all that.”

“Yeah. Oh yeah okay. Alright.”

I’m dumbstruck yet again as my feet move me away from her. Out of the classroom. I stand there for a few just thinking of this feeling. Of tables turned.

She didn’t actually like me like…more?

The questions carry me home. My sister takes one look at me and laughs.

“Girl problems?”

“No.” I bite.

“Really? Because this looks like girl problems. L-o-v-e problems.”

“Shut up.” I want her to stop poking at the soft place.

“Fine,” she shrugs.

“I’m fine.”

“Hmph,” she eyes me. “I can say it’s nice to see you getting a taste of your medicine Har. Girls aren’t just playthings.”

I ignore her and she heads to her room, calling out “Pass me her details later I’m gonna write her a thank you card.”

…a taste of your own medicine. Girl’s aren’t just playthings.

“Hey I don’t think-“ I try to argue but she’s already in her room, door closed.

I didn’t think girls were playthings. But the girls I hooked up with we just had fun. They knew it.

What if some of them walked away from it like you are now, a voice in my head whispers. I want to shut it up. Shut it out.

I grab my phone, hit up Zoe and when she says she’s busy I find someone else in my phone. I needed to get this feeling out of my system.

But still, when I crawl into bed at 2 in the morning after being out all night, I’m wide awake thinking about her so hard I swear I see her in the brushstrokes of my ceiling.

All along I had just been punishing myself; that was the only prize I had to show for all this.

It all comes crashing down on me. I feel like a part of me was hollowed out, thinking I was fine but it was coming from a coffin. Because everything my sister said, everything YN said—every single thing was all so true.

[midnightshindig]

hiii!! 🩷 may i request cecil x angel! reader dating hcs? ^_^ (i am obsessed with cecil 💔💔) sorry if this is worded weirdly i suck at requesting 😞

Cecil X Angel!Reader

I thought this was a very cute request!

hcs below the cut!

You're not sure why you were went to Earth

all you know is that you crashed down from Heaven into the GDA

scaring the SHIT out of Cecil

"Who are you, where are you from and what do you want?"

You batted your eyelashes from your curled spot on the floor "what?"

Cecil raised an eyebrow, his features softening when he realized you weren't a threat.

He held a hand out to you, pulling you to your feet

My god, you looked angelic

your halo is shining, the white silk gown draped over you sparkling in the sunlight

Cecil blinks a few times before he starts to get the memo

"So... you're... an angel? Like... from heaven?"

this doesn't surprise him nearly as much as it should

He knows hell is real, why wouldn't heaven be?

Regardless, he's left with this powerless angel with no concept of money or lying or sin, in his care

He can't very well turn you onto the street, who knows what might happen to you?

So Cecil ends up volunteering to house you for the time being, not trusting you with a hotel of your own.

You're sincerely grateful and offer to help out wherever you can.

Cecil ensures you this is not necessary, he's very on top of his dishes and laundry

Mostly because he wears one suit and eats takeout

but when he wakes up and you've made a full breakfast, he can't help but be grateful

"So-" he starts, taking a forkful of egg in his mouth "How'd you do all this?"

"Miracles!" You say casually, cutting your pancake into pieces clumsily, knives and cutlery and hunger are new to you

Cecil chokes on his eggs, coughing up a long and slamming his hands on the table "What-" he coughs again, leaning over the table "you do miracles? Like biblical- real ass miracles?"

You smiled candidly "Sometimes."

"Can you do another one, right now?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest

"Well if I did miracles all the time, humans would lose the ability to be good and experience hardship, and they would never overcome it." You grabbed his empty plate, stacking it atop your own, and moving to wash them in the sink

Cecil is dumbfounded

The next few months go well, with Cecil asking you to perform some cursory exams and experiments

What the hell are you?

Why are you here?

You don't know....

Cecil is frustrated at the lack of answers, but your company is pleasant

You make him breakfast and remind him to fix his lapels, and are generally just such a great person to be around

After another set of rigorous testing on your angelic properties and miracle capabilities, Cecil offers to take you somewhere fun

He figures you've been so kind and sweet to him, and so cooperative with the GDA, he sort of owes you.

You respond with a pleased grin and a small clap of the hands, poised and cute as always

Your hair has a pleasant shine to it, and your teeth are bright, with rosy cheeks

have you always been this endearing?

"Oh, yes please! I've never experienced human entertainment. What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno, whatever sounds good to you, Y/n."

After some deliberation, you end up going to the ballet together

Cecil figures ballet is like.... probably the most angelic art form? it's just fancy dancing, right?

So you're sat next to each other, your hands folded in your lap politely as the show starts

But during the performance, Cecil starts to doze off.

Until he feels a soft, well-manicured hand slip into his own

No words are exchanged, except when he looks over at you, your face is bright red

This goes wordlessly throughout the duration of the ballet

Afterwards, when the two of you are walking back to the car, your hand still hasn't left his

He breaks the hold when he's going to drive the car

until you're both in the car, then he holds out his right hand, palm to the air

You smile gently, his eyes avoiding yours

The two of you hold hands the entire drive home.

[nilla03]

𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑫𝑨𝑫 𝑵𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰 დ

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓏: 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒹𝒶𝒹 𝓃𝒶𝓃𝓂𝒾 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇

Nanami never thought he’d be the type of man to show up to work with tiny, colorful hearts and stars painted onto his nails. But here he was, sitting at his desk, flipping through paperwork, while his nails—each a different pastel shade—stood out against the stark office lighting.

It all started that morning when your daughter, a giggly three-year-old with chubby cheeks and a determined spirit, decided that her papa needed a “makeover.” You were reclining on the couch, one hand resting on your round belly, watching the scene unfold with amused eyes.

“Papa, hold still!” she huffed, furrowing her tiny brows as she gripped his hand.

Nanami, ever the patient father, allowed himself to be subjected to her artistic whims, his large hands completely at her mercy. You knew he could’ve easily declined, but he never did when it came to her.

You bit back a laugh as she carefully painted his nails, her tongue sticking out in concentration. The polish was uneven, the tiny stickers of hearts and sparkles placed haphazardly, but the look of pride on her face made it all worth it.

“There!” she beamed, holding up his hand like a prized masterpiece. “Now Papa is pretty too, just like Mama!”

Nanami glanced at you then, his gaze softening as he took in the way your hand rested on your growing belly. He reached out, brushing his painted fingers over your knuckles.

“I suppose I am,” he murmured, kissing the back of your hand before standing up.

You thought he would wipe the polish off before leaving for work, but to your surprise, he merely adjusted his tie.

“Wait,” you called out, sitting up slightly. “You’re going like that?”

“Of course.” He looked down at his nails and then at your daughter, who was grinning ear to ear. “It would be a shame to remove such fine work.”

Now, as he sat in his office, Gojo sauntered in, eyes immediately landing on Nanami’s hands.

“Oh. My. God,” Gojo gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “Kento Nanami, the picture of professionalism, showing up to work with—are those sparkly unicorn stickers?”

Nanami didn’t even glance up. “They are.”

Gojo blinked. “And you’re just… owning it?”

Nanami finally looked up, leveling Gojo with a blank stare. “My daughter did them. Do you have a problem with that?”

Gojo opened his mouth, then closed it, then smirked. “Nope. Actually, I think they suit you. Maybe I should get a manicure too—think she’d be interested?”

At the end of the day, he came home to find you curled up on the couch, half-asleep, while your daughter played beside you. She gasped when she saw him.

“Papa! You kept them!”

“Of course I did,” he said, kneeling beside her. “How could I wash away something so special?”

Maybe sparkly nails weren’t so bad after all.