#I remember first time playing and being so afraid of everything

[karlachismylife]

*crash in* JUJU

first of all, nyan beam

now the ask thingy

what's your thoughts on SoapGraves

if you could ship Rudy with anyone from BG3, who would it be?

hugs, kisses, banana and more hugs for u :3c *bap*

OH MY GOD IT'S KITTY VED'MA she's gonna purr so obviously and loudly for Raven. With her silly tail... I love them so much 😭 the little mlem 😭

My thoughts on SoapGraves are - can I be the filling for this sandwich? As in, can I fill them both with my-

That aside though, I actually think it's really nice if we ignore the betrayal :/ cuz as much as I am a Graves Fixer, I don't know if the relationship there can be repaired to the point of romance. Well, maybe, idk, if we assume that Graves regrets his actions and is just a lost soul (the only Graves I accept, thank you, I repeat, I don't like bad guys, I like good guys and I will make up a story to make a bad guy good even if it's shallow and OOC. My little tent, my rules).

But that's some severe hurt/comfort or even angst territory. If we roll back tho, before it all, I think Graves and Soap are actually happy together. They get along easily, they're both friendly and charismatic, open for new people. I bet Graves, being not just older, but also a Commander who has personal relationships with his subordinates and cares for them (we're going with Good Guy Graves here, remember?), has this instinct to take over Soap. After all, he's initially there basically to save Soap's ass and keep it safe further down the line, it puts him into a role of protector (a role that Graves always craves imo, I will die on the hill that he was sold on the idea of military as protectors of weak in his youth and it all went downhill from there, but he still longs to be a hero deep down). But at the same time, Soap is more than capable of protecting himself, so it lifts off all the pressure and imbalance and leaves them just as being there to support each other and mean well for each other.

Moreover, they're both very tactile, and I am a firm believer that it plays a big role in pulling them closer. Shoulder pats, handshakes, the Manly Hugs and hair ruffles can turn so easily into arms thrown around each other's shoulders and falling asleep next to each other, and it leads to a hand on another's thigh, maybe it's sexual first and thus feels more forgiving to them; but oh no, it all started not with sexual attraction, it started with them being drawn to each other's personalities. Soap is still believing the Noble Military tales, Graves has long gone past it, disappointed and abandoned, but oh he wants to believe in these tales. They're cooked. They'll realize they're in love too late, and it's probably gonna be Graves who gets hit by the realization first, pulling away from a kiss with a thread of saliva stretching between their lips and staring at Soap with wide eyes, watching him pant, flushed and riled up, as they jerk each other off or something. Soap will confess first though, because he's fearless and impulsive.

I think they admire each other's skills and capabilities; I think they find each other very attractive; I think they honestly might find some unexpected points of connection being both kinda country boys. Reminiscing of playing with lambs when they were little or something. I think Graves gets off on teasing and riling Soap up and Soap isn't afraid to let it out on Graves. I think Graves loves how Soap says his name and always has another song about someone names Johnny to purr in Soap's ear.

I think they get stupidly competitive and then horny in the gym; and I also think Graves loves having mountain vacations with Johnny, snowboard and everything. I think Johnny notices they have very similar smile lines around their eyes and gets attached to this fact, and I think he draws Graves a lot - and Graves loves taking pictures of Johnny and sepatately - of their hands clasped together.

I think they manage long distance relationship pretty well, too, even if Johnny has the ADHD thing where he doesn't even realize how much time passed between their texts. I think Graves loves videochats and is ready to sacrifice his sleep due to time zones to talk to Johnny. I think Johnny doesn't think twice to get up and catch a plane to go visit.

Damn I yapped. But yeah, I think the betrayal would hit really hard and Graves would have to prove himself again really hard. But without it? They are really well together.

About Rudy in bg3 though, hmmmm. I think Astarion would be very attracted to him; I'm not sure if Rudy has some kind of power to entice Astarion to go after him at first, but I think he would charm Astarion and be a little unattainable for him to want to chase. And Rudy definitely would balance out Astarion's drama, playing into it when he's in the mood and calming it down when he's not. He's also just chill and reliable and he would make Astarion feel safe. I think also Rudy having a near death experience in a fire can build some weird unexpected bridge between them. Rudy himself would probably see through Astarion's flirty front rather quickly and he'll fall in love with the imperfect hurt elf underneath it because he knows there is nothing perfect and a clumsy vampire fumbling his first real connection in decades is actually as close to perfection as it can be.

Similarly, I think more or less same traits would also attract Shadowheart and go well with her. Rudy is a bit enigmatic, but charming; he can be romantic and sincere, but won't waver when she's going through hard emotional time so she'll have him to lean on. Rudy also feels really clear headed and rational to me, so with Shadowheart's brains being all kinds of messed up he would pull her out if it. I also have a weird thought that Rudy really has it out for cults so he'll be protecting her very fiercely when it comes to all that in the story. Also I'm sorry but I think Rudy just likes an emo/goth slightly dramatic babe with a few loose screws in the head.

Wyll would probably have a lil' bit of a crush on Rudy just because Rudy makes a really book romance like character. Karlach might be a little too high energy for him, but then again, her being a creature of fire lends to some beautiful metaphors and a very special dynamic. Gale might be intimidated by him >< Lae'zel might think he's too soft because he is preferring to keep it low and working on tactics more than on brute force, but I bet she'd fall for him after a good sparring. Halsin loves everyone, and I actually think that him and Rudy might have the most chill, normal and amazing romance ever. They just acknowledge the attraction, act on it, never get into drama, live happily ever after with ducks following them everywhere because Rudy accidentally got a whole batch of eggs imprinted on himself and Halsin thinks it's adorable.

I will also do an honorable mention and say he would hit it off with Zevlor. And I do think Rudy is freaky enough and has enough of a taste for messed up things to be drawn to Kar'niss, and he might actually be able to give some peace to that poor baby boy.

I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE SHORT THOUGHTS I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH

[vinnybox]

Player progression

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It���s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[kekewrites]

tw. mention of creampie, size kink, wholesome(?), reader is unable to speak human language + limited vocabulary, mention of abuse, abandonment issues

Imagine being a puppy!hybrid who's been saved by your current owner months ago. He found you wandering the streets alone, cold and starving.

It was pouring hard and the wind was extra harsh that day. Oh, how pitiful it is to see a hungry little pup girl rummage through the dirty trash bins, hoping to see scraps and edible food. That sight of you tugged on his tender heart, unable to walk away from such scene, he approached with quiet footsteps, not wanting to scare your cautious figure.

Your sharp senses have been dulled by fatigue and hunger as you didn't even notice his presence behind. Normally, you would've bolted away, afraid of how humans have treated you, but the way his voice sounded to your alert furry ears made your guard down. It was different from the people who abused and abandoned you. So gentle, the way his voice sounded like a lullaby.

That was the last thing you remembered after your first meeting.

***

You really are the best pet or companion he could ever ask for. Such a baby to take care of truly. He found out how you were unable to speak human language, often babbling and butchering words if you do try to talk. You do understand simple phrases and tones, which made it easier to communicate with you. He's not that knowledgeable about hybrids but he do know how to take care of a regular dog. It's hard to compare you to a dog or a human, you're neither closer to the other.

He severely underestimate how much of an attachment you formed with him.

It's not a bad thing.

But it certainly becomes harder for him to leave you for work.

"Come on... Don't look at me like that."

He really didn't want to leave you alone. Truly, he wants to be with you 24/7 but he needs to work, or else he won't be able to spoil you.

Your small pout and cute begging eyes, along with your droopy ears nearly made him stay. Nearly.

"Baby... I need to go. Don’t make that face," he murmurs, his voice soft as he takes in your pouted lips and droopy ears, tugging at his heartstrings. He gently pulls you up, pressing a kiss to your cheek, trailing to your lips, and peppering your face with soft kisses.

Don’t worry, he always thinks of you while he’s typing away at his lonely desk, his mind wandering to what you’re doing without him by your side. Were you playing just fine? Eating the meals he prepped for you? Being a good girl for him? His heart aches at the thought of you waiting by the door, staring at it just as he left it.

He never anticipated how slow time would crawl as he counted the minutes to the end of his shift, refusing to let a single minute become overtime. The moment he could, he raced through the garage and drove home.

"I’m back!" he calls, dropping his case of files and loosening his tie.

Thump, thump, thump.

Oh, how he loved the sound of your footsteps racing across the floor to reach him. It was the kind of sound that melted away the stress of the day, the kind of sound that reminded him why he hurried home in the first place. But this time, he wasn’t prepared for the way you threw yourself at him, arms flung wide as you collided with his chest.

He stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but quickly steadied himself, wrapping his arms around you instinctively. Your warmth, the way you buried your face in his suit—it all made his heart swell.

"Whoa there!" he said, chuckling softly as he ruffled your hair. "I missed you too, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes bright with joy, and his exhaustion melted away completely. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as if he’d never let go. Moments like this made everything worth it, every long hour and every sleepless night. You were his home, his safe haven, and the best part of his day.

"W-Wel... um," you stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly as your little fangs peek out with each syllable. "Wellum... b-back!"

He freezes for a moment, blinking as he stares at you, his head tilting slightly in confusion. Then, it hits him like a soft breeze, the realization dawning across his face.

Were you trying to say welcome back?

His heart squeezes as the thought sinks in, and a wide grin tugs at his lips. Aren’t you just the cutest? He crouches down to your level, his hands gently resting on your shoulders.

"Wellum back, huh?" he teases softly, his voice warm and playful. "Thank you, sweetheart. I feel very welcome now."

You shift nervously, glancing away with a little huff, but your lips twitch as if you’re trying not to smile. He chuckles and taps the tip of your nose affectionately, unable to resist how endearing you look.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" he says, his tone dropping into something softer, almost a whisper, as he pulls you into a hug. "Hearing that from you just made my day, you know that?"

Coming home was the best part of his day, he might quit his work and become a full-time freelancer if it meant spending more time with you.

Then one day came something with you. Your behavior became odd, strange even...

It didn't take too long for him to realize that you were approaching your heat. He read about it while researching about hybrids, the heat suppressants pills already stock in his drawers. The only problem was how uncooperative you were, spitting out the pills, running away when it was time for bathing, and being skittish whenever he was out. You were still his sweet girl, but you'd get moody and have an outburst.

"Come on, it's not that bad... Come here, baby." His voice is soft, coaxing.

Bath time was his least favorite thing to do. Not because he didn’t enjoy the idea of it—cleanliness was important—but because it always turned into a battle of wills. He never liked having to wrestle with you, and yet here you were, backed into the corner of the room like a wary kitten—wait, like a dog your arms wrapped protectively around yourself.

His gaze softens as he takes in your cowering, guarded figure. The way you look at him, a mix of defiance and uncertainty, makes his resolve waver. But the small trail of dirt smeared across your cheek and the strands of hair sticking to your face remind him there's no way around this.

"Baby, you can't stay like that forever," he says, tilting his head with an amused grin. He takes a cautious step forward, his movements slow, deliberate. "I'll make it quick, I promise. No bubbles this time, okay?"

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, not buying into his negotiations just yet. Inching further into the corner.

He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "This time, no tricks, just a nice, warm soak. You'll feel so much better."

When you don't budge, his grin turns sly. "But if you're going to make me chase you…" He starts rolling up his sleeves, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. "Then don't blame me if I catch you."

Your eyes widen slightly, and he sees the tiniest twitch of a smile forming on your lips, your tail wagging despite your best efforts to hide it. In that split second, he lunges forward, scooping you up effortlessly despite your squeals of protest. "Gotcha!" he declares triumphantly, carrying you toward the tub, half-heartedly squirming in his arms.

His smile softening as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, stubborn little thing."

It was a nice warm bath, you placed on his lap as his arms wrapped around your waist for preventing your escape.

"See? Not that bad, hm?" He murmurs, almost groaning at how blissful he's feeling. The warm and comfortable water around him plus your nice, soft and plush figure on his lap made it ten times better than usual.

You were oddly quiet, your ears flopping. Your temperature higher than normal, he can see how you were breathing heavily.

Oh.

It's starting again hm?

Well, he's here to help... just not with the pill.

***

The scent of your arousal filled the air, sweet and intoxicating, making his own body react in kind. His cock twitched, already starting to harden.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" He asked softly, his voice rough with concern and desire. He tightened his arms around your waist, holding you close as you shifted restlessly on his lap. "You're burning up. Do you need me to cool you down?"

Your tail thumped against the side of the bathtub, betraying your excitement. His hands slid up your sides, tracing the curves of your body through the water. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"I can help you feel better. I know just what you need," He murmured, his voice low and seductive. His hands continued their exploration, cupping your breasts through the water. They were swollen and sensitive, the nipples hardening under his touch. His cock was fully hard now. Pressing his hips up against your ass, letting you feel his cock throb with need. He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he works you, bringing you closer to the edge.

"That's it, let me hear you," he rasps.

His tongue laves over your pulse point, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Marking you, claiming you. His fingers never stop their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you higher and higher until you're trembling on the brink, teetering on the edge of release.

"Come for me," he demands.

And you do, your back arching, a scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. He holds you through it, his fingers still working your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you're boneless and spent in his arms.

But he's not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

He read that hybrid's heat last long for a few weeks, worst case scenario, for months. It could affect your well-being so he won't take any chances for that to happen.

"Hold on tight, baby," He murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. With a smooth motion, he stood up in the bathtub, water sloshing around them as he carried you in his arms. Stepping out of the bathtub, water cascading down his muscular body as he made his way to the bedroom.

He'll do anything for his girl.

Anything.

[thinkinonsense]

Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's bord, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he thought he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask, "ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans in, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

[aquanutart]

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!

[02lvr]

night under the moon — psh

synopsis; hoon that's so in love with you that he doesn't want to ruin what's there, but gets one night to treat you right

best friends au! ice skater hoon x female reader

warnings; slow burn, masturbation (m), unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), breeding kink, whimpering, squirting, munch! hoon that overstimulates, they're both crazy, didn't proofread!

now playing; high - alina baraz

you don't remember the first time you met hoon. probably was when you were younger at 5 when he was too shy to say hi but forced proximity made you two get closer and soon enough he would take you to his tournaments.

days became years, and he'd watch as you sat there while he forced himself to do a trick that his coach forced him to do, but he struggled so much. so he'd walk home in silence, and you'd feel like a bother, but he felt the complete opposite.

he liked you being there next to him and somehow wanted you to always be there.

he turned 21 first, and he'd ask you to join him on his ice skating trip, where he was only allowed to bring one person, and he thought of bringing you. it was also an excuse for you to leave the country, but an excuse for him to finally have alone time with you. hoon that feels so attracted to you in every way possible, was so scared to have a wet dream in the bed next to yours in the hotel.

but he was also afraid of confessing, knowing that you'd start seeing other people, and he's so attached to you. so he'd lie there at night wondering if you'd bring up one of these days that you're actually starting to see someone and fall in love with them.

so he'd feel lovesick. lovesick in the way that you noticed how different he'd look at you or how he'd pay for you more often than not and how you're not sure if you're mistaking his niceness for something else while he touches himself in the shower frustrated thinking that he's so stupid for not doing anything earlier.

the next morning, he'd go to compete, leaving you in the hotel, anxious to see if he would return in a good or bad mood. until he shows up, rushing that he got into the top 3 and now he would get to compete somewhere else before reaching the final tournament. you two hug each other excitedly until he goes in, gently grabbing your face while going in for a passionate kiss, leaving you shocked.

he steps back with scared eyes not knowing what to do and afraid that he ruined everything between you two. silence

"fuck, i'm so fucking sorry-"

you pull him by his jacket into a passionate kiss, reciprocating his emotion, that he wasn't sure if it would only be for tonight. so he'd take his time with you, unclasping your bra with one hand; breathing so hard on your neck that he was so close to cumming inside you.

"fuck, can i?"

you'd nod and he'd go faster cumming inside as he whimpered by how sensitive he got with the warm feeling, and he'd go rounds cumming inside like this was the only night with you. he'd eat you out slowly while teasing a finger inside since you were so sensitive.

"you're so pretty like this baby, i wish you knew how many times i touched myself to you."

he'd go faster, putting almost his entire fist and laughing at how fucked up you looked.

"god, you're so fucking pretty all fucked up for me."

going faster as you whimpered at the speed and cooed at how desperate you got around him, squirting all over his hand. hoon eats you out, taking in everything.

"you taste so fucking good pretty."

he'd lie down next to you, caressing your face while you covered your face, trying to calm down your breathing.

"you know how long I've been so in love with you?"

"I hope you feel the same for me, and it's not just for tonight, pretty."

[charmedreincarnation]

MAYA, I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE!!!!

Okay, I don't know if you remember me, but I participated in a lot of your challenges and the Pink’s challenge, and I found some success! I shifted to my wr and manifested some things, but I could never do it consistently, and it was really fucking annoying.

So, I took three months off and worked hard, using subliminals every day and going on affirmation rampages. I was doing lucid dreaming methods, SATs, meditations, yoga nidra, reading spiritual books literally my whole summer was dedicated to shifting and the void state. I was eat sleeping and breathing it because I could not continue to live the way I was even I can even consider that living …

So What did I do

I just followed your challenge because college was starting, and I couldn't go back to school without my dream life for the fourth time, fearing I might actually harm myself. So played the fields with this rampage (together in two different tabs).

During the Day

https://youtu.be/aLsn6ZK4RZ8?si=Dt_j7ChLjNsQ6tpV

https://youtu.be/gBD4Owz1GC0?si=icOkN1DoFsqP-adT

During the day, I would live in the end. I created albums for my desired realities, re-read my scripts, revised my void list because I genuinely believed I was going to succeed, watched supercell shifting videos on YouTube, and stared at my vision board, realizing it was going to be my life the next day, and more!

Overnight

https://youtu.be/JwV297pP9aw?si=Sxx-xlhE_owInoxH

https://youtu.be/DKB5I9y8SEg?si=PI-UaNw2m_VUWYy1

What I Manifested

- Master shifting abilities

- Master void state abilities

- Having my WR to be a perfect heaven

- Making this current reality a dream: desired looks, desired body, never gaining weight, revised wealth and family, dream friend group, a social media following, being worshipped and respected, being so beautiful by my own standards, dream home (I have a mountain range that goes through my backyard and a farm on my land, it’s enormous), revised city, only attracting wealthy, tall, attractive men, pretty privilege, 145 IQ, going to an Ivy League, getting rid of my anxiety and depression, getting rid of my health issues, no toxic family, so much money, and revised my name to Bella because I love Bella Hadid (my old name was Audrey), and so much more.

I know it sounds nothing too crazy compared to other people who manifest powers and trillions of dollars, but I can shift anytime I want. I’m going to my singing desired reality and high school musical Dr soon and I am so excited I have hundreds of places to explore. My life here finally has stability, and I’m so happy. Not waking up with stress, nausea, and diarrhea is a blessing. My house is clean, my family members aren’t fighting and calling me names, my siblings and I are close. I audibly gasp anytime I see myself in the mirror. My phone is always blowing up with people asking me for plans when it used to be dry as hell, and people forgot I even existed. Everywhere I go, people tell me I should model, want to pay for what I’m buying, are so kind, open doors for me, want to help me for no reason, give me discounts, ask me on dates… I’m so happy and confused. I don’t know how to feel. I am genuinely so loved and respected, and on top of that, I get to explore the universe of my favorite shows and movies.

I’m so glad I never gave up, even though these three months were hard and my life had gotten worse, I am finally free, my hard work paid off, and I hope everyone else will do the same. We truly are God! I was afraid this community was some big joke and big bloggers were creative writers or just laughing at delusional people like me, but I can confirm it’s very, very real.

My love I am so proud of you ! And yes I vaguely remember you and your first shift you messaged me about :)!

I am happy your hard work paid off as well. I remember when everything seemed so meaningless and delusional as well and I also thought shifting was some big joke to target mentally ill teens, but the reality is we truly are all god and no amount of doubt and struggle will ever change that truth. I hope you enjoy your dream life, and I am happy I could help 💖

[deesseshesca]

PAC : First time feeling *that* chemistry with him. (Dual POV)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~2 )

My soul craves some slow love song...

PILE 1

Is actually not going to be the first time you feel this chemistry.

You always felt it but always find a away to resist. Fighting the connection on both side.

His mom died. Maybe one of he challenges you will be facing together before you both commit to surrender to this love after months of playing cat and mouse is the death of his mother.

Both of you have a fear of being vulnerable which dramatically slowed this relationship.

Her POV The air was thick with the scent of roses, heady and intoxicating, blooming wildly around the edges of the garden. Evening had settled, painting the sky in dusky shades of lavender and gold, and the world felt quieter here softer. I stood by the fountain, my fingertips brushing the cool marble edge as I stared at the rippling water. Reflections danced on the surface, fractured and shifting, much like the emotions stirring inside me.

<<I didn’t expect to feel this.>>

Not after everything. Not after the walls I built so carefully, protecting the parts of me that once gave too much and received too little. I had walked away from him before more than once not because I didn’t care, but because I needed to know who I was without him. I needed to find the version of myself that wouldn’t settle for half-hearted promises and restless nights filled with questions.

But I wasn’t that woman anymore.

<<I see it now — he’s different.>>

His edges have softened, the fire that once burned too hot, tempered now with something richer, something steadier. His ego no longer fills the space between us, and I know deep in my bones that he’s ready. His family knows it too. I see it in their eyes when they look at me. Acceptance. Warmth. They see me as his future, even before I’ve fully allowed myself to step into that role.

But the truth was I had been fighting this. Fighting us.

<<And I’m so tired of running.>>

The moon hung low in the sky, her quiet light washing over the garden, whispering secrets only I could hear. I wasn’t afraid anymore. The unknown didn’t scare me the way it once had. Because this time, I wasn’t standing on shaky ground. I was standing on the edge of something solid.

And when I turned to look at him, standing a few feet away, watching me with that quiet intensity I had come to know so well…

<<I knew it was time to stop fighting.>>

His Mother’s POV The evening air carried the faintest breeze, enough to rustle the leaves but not disturb the peace that had settled over the garden. I stood near the patio, half-listening to the murmured conversations behind me, but my eyes were fixed on them.

My son. And her.

<<I’ve seen this look before.>>

Not on him. Never on him. But I’ve seen it in the eyes of men who have found something rare something worth holding onto.

He’s watching her like he’s afraid to blink, like she might disappear if he does. But it’s not desperation in his eyes. It’s reverence.

<<My boy learned the hard way.>>

I remember how stubborn he used to be so caught up in his pride, in proving himself. He didn’t know how to bend, and love requires a man who can bend without breaking. But something changed. I see it in the way his shoulders aren’t as rigid, in how he stands beside her, not in front of her.

He’s quiet now. Not because he’s holding back, but because he’s listening.

And her?

<<She’s not running anymore.>>

I’ve watched her for a long time, watched the way her guard would rise and fall depending on his mood. But tonight? I don’t see the woman who once held herself apart, protecting what was left of her heart. I see a woman who’s ready. Her eyes don’t hold doubt anymore. There’s only knowing.

She’s fought this love. I could feel it every time she stepped back, every time she hesitated, weighing her heart against her fears. But now…

<<She’s choosing him.>>

And he knows it.

The way they move unconsciously mirroring each other, as if their souls had already learned the steps to a dance they hadn’t even realized they were performing it’s breathtaking.

He’s ready to give her everything. And for once, he’s not afraid to show it.

<<This is love.>>

Not the easy kind. The kind forged through fire and time. The kind that bends but never breaks.

And as I watched them standing in the glow of a fading sun, their future stretched out before them I knew.

<<They’ve found their way.>>

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PILE 2

Her POV The air smelled of jasmine and warm spice, the kind that lingers long after the sun dips beneath the horizon. The soft hum of conversation filled the courtyard, where fairy lights twisted through ivy-covered trellises, casting a golden glow on the polished stone beneath my heels. I felt the heat of the summer night cling to my skin, a sensual reminder that life was ripe and full of promise.

I stood with ease, spine straight, head high but not from pride. I was light in a way that only comes after shedding burdens I once thought were stitched into my bones. I was whole now, and love no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like home waiting to be built. And as my eyes landed on him, across the crowded space, something shifted.

<<I see him before he notices me a presence that pulses against the noise, commanding without trying.>> He looked unsure, though. A flicker of tension in the line of his jaw, a restless energy in the way his fingers grazed the edge of his glass. I could feel it that uncertainty, that hesitation and it only made me more aware of how steady I had become.

When his eyes finally found mine, I didn’t look away. I let him see. All of it. The woman who had rebuilt herself. The woman who no longer needed to be saved but was ready to be chosen. His gaze sharpened, and I felt the heat coil low in my belly.

<<I know he feels it too.>> The spark. The unspoken question hanging between us, thick and sweet as the summer air. I took a step forward, feeling a quiet power hum through me.

I was ready.

His POV The night was too still. Too perfect. The kind of night where everything feels suspended in time where decisions can’t be undone once made. The courtyard was a masterpiece of intimacy, tucked away from the noise of the city. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, throwing patterns across the stone floor, but my focus was caught elsewhere.

<<I see her.>> And the world narrows.

She moved like certainty, her presence cutting through the crowd like silk through air. I had been restless all night, the weight of everything I carried pressing against my ribs, but when her gaze caught mine I forgot how to breathe.

She was unreadable, and that terrified me. I could feel the space she had carved for herself, the freedom she had fought for. I had laid everything out, no walls, no illusions. Just me. Wanting her.

<<I know she has choices.>> I had seen it in her eyes, the quiet acknowledgment that she wasn’t bound by anyone’s expectations. She could walk away and not look back. But damn, I didn’t want her to.

My heart pounded, each beat a plea I couldn’t voice. The fear gnawed at me, but beneath it was something else. Something stronger.

<<I would give her everything.>> And I wasn’t sure if that would be enough.

But as she stepped toward me, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. She wasn’t walking away. She was walking toward me. And in that moment, I knew...

I was ready to risk it all.

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PILE 3

Her POV The night was alive, pulsing with an undercurrent of something electric. Music drifted through the crowded rooftop bar, a low bass that thrummed beneath my skin. City lights stretched out around us, glittering like promises that never quite delivered. But I wasn’t thinking about promises.

<<I was thinking about him.>>

He stood across the room, effortlessly charming as always, his laughter spilling into the air like a melody I couldn’t escape. My pulse quickened not with nerves, but with something far more dangerous. Obsession.

<<And I wasn’t even trying to hide it.>>

My eyes found him without meaning to, drawn like a magnet, and I knew he felt it. Felt me. Even when he wasn’t looking, he knew. It was in the way his body angled slightly toward mine, like gravity itself was conspiring to pull us together. But beneath all that wanting, there was a quiet war raging in me.

I didn’t trust this feeling.

<<I’ve played this game before.>>

The spark. The pull. The endless chase that left me burned when I finally caught what I thought I wanted. He was different, though. Too different. And that scared me more than anything. Because if I let myself believe he was the one, I’d be giving him a power I swore I’d never hand over again.

But damn…

<<He makes it so easy to forget my own rules.>>

Every glance, every touch, every low murmur of my name lured me deeper into this mess I swore I wouldn’t make. And yet here I was. Caught in the web. The worst part?

<<I didn’t even want to escape.>>

His POV The night stretched out like a canvas, painted with the warm glow of city lights and the buzz of possibility. Laughter echoed around us, but my world had narrowed to one point of focus.

Her.

<<I could feel her eyes on me.>>

Even when she thought she was subtle, her gaze was a weight I carried like a secret. And I liked it. No I loved it. There was no hiding how she felt. The way her lips parted slightly when she looked at me. The way her body leaned in, even when her mind tried to pull her back.

<<She was obsessed, and I knew it.>>

But she was fighting it. Fighting me. And I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t some polished dream I was chaos wrapped in charm, adventure wrapped in uncertainty. And she… she liked control.

But love? Love didn’t play by her rules.

<<I wasn’t here to play it safe.>>

I wasn’t looking for guarantees or carefully laid plans. I wanted the ride the messy, unpredictable, breathtaking ride that came with loving a woman who didn’t know how to surrender. And damn, was she worth the risk.

Her fear didn’t scare me. If anything, it made me want her more. She was standing at the edge, and I could feel her heart pounding just as loudly as mine. She was so close to giving in, to letting go of all the walls she’d built around herself.

<<And I wasn’t going to push her.>>

No. I was going to let her come to me.

Because I knew, deep down, she couldn’t resist this.

<<Not me.>>

I wasn’t a destination. I was the journey. And I could feel her soul even if her mind was fighting it ready to take that leap.

So, I stood there, steady and sure, letting her chase her own thoughts, knowing they’d always lead back to me.

<<This wasn’t about winning.>>

It was about us. About feeling every twist and turn, every high and low. I wasn’t offering her a perfect ending. I was offering her a story worth living.

And when her eyes met mine again wide, hungry, and just a little afraid I knew.

<<She was already falling.>>

And I was ready to catch her.

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[lionlena]

Your scent, my scent, our scent... (HarryCastilloxf!reader)

Summary: The longer you date Harry, the more you discover that you smell like him.

Warnings: None… Risk of starting to have unrealistic expectations of men…

A/N: Inspired by a TikTok about what perfume Pedro uses :D Also, the last time I used a unisex perfume tester in a drugstore, I couldn't get rid of the smell all day long, despite washing my skin

You didn't notice it at first. Until, after another wonderful night with Harry, you discovered you were late for work. You were in such a hurry that you didn't shower or use your perfume. At work, you heard from a colleague:

"Do you have a new perfume? Nice scent."

Too distracted by being late, you only replied:

"Uh, yeah… Thanks."

It wasn't until your lunch break when you had a moment to yourself that you discovered it. You smelled your arm and realized. You smelled like Harry. You smelled his perfume… Cedar and grapefruit mixed with a hint of sage and labdanum. His scent was unisex, so indeed your coworker could think you were wearing a new perfume. But you knew the truth, and it made you feel a pleasant warmth in your chest as well as a slight embarrassment at the same time.

From that day on, you started paying attention to it. You quickly noticed that it didn't take much for you to smell like Harry. Cuddling on the couch was enough, and your skin and clothes would already smell of him. When he covered your shoulders with his jacket during an evening walk, when you slept in his bed… His scent became yours. It clung to your skin, stayed on your clothes, soaked into your hair.

At first, you tried to fight it. When you came back from Harry's home, you would immediately take a shower and throw your clothes in the washing machine. If you spent the night at Harry's place, you would always take extra clean clothes, which you would put on for work in the morning. If you slept with him, you would try to get up earlier in the morning to take a longer shower. You always had your perfume with you, but your much cheaper perfumes had no chance against his scent. But no matter what you did, you still smelled like Harry.

And it wasn't about that you didn't like his scent. Quite the opposite, you loved it. But some part of you, the part that always had doubts, told you that it wasn't right. That you didn't have the right to smell like Harry, that you weren't worthy to be his. But the longer you were with this walking ideal, the fewer doubts you had.

"Sometimes when I'm at your place, I feel like grandma's old armchair pushed into a modern living room." You confessed to Harry one evening as you both lay naked under his satin sheets.

"What?" Harry immediately propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you with those warm, brown eyes.

"Like I don't fit in here." You added.

Harry snorted at the thought. He didn't understand how you could talk about yourself like that. From his point of view, you were a masterpiece.

"That's bullshit and you know it. You're not out of place here… You're exactly where you belong. You're my beautiful girl… don't you know that?"

You smiled shyly and stroked his cheek.

"You know you're amazing… and I'm afraid I'll ruin everything…"

He leaned into your touch, his own warm, larger hand gently encompassing yours and pressing it closer to his skin. Harry wanted more… more of your touch… He couldn't even remember the last time someone had touched him so gently.

"You can never mess anything up. I don't know how you got your beautiful brain to think you could do anything wrong…"

His facial expression was gentle and so… adoring.

You looked at him fondly and combed his dark hair.

"So, what? Should I close my eyes and enjoy this luxury?"

"Do you have something against luxury, honey?"

Harry smirked, his eyes closing for a moment as he enjoyed the feel of your hands on his skin, his fingers continuing to play with your hair.

"Because I would gladly spend all my money on you. Keep you in nothing but… luxury…" He mumbled the last words, lowering his head to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Mmm… my charming prince…" You closed your eyes and snuggled into his body. "You smell nice…"

The words slipped out of your mouth without thinking. Harry chuckled in satisfaction and wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even closer to his body.

"I like that. I'd love to be your charming prince who smells nice."

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to hide your blush.

From that moment on, you stopped 'fighting' his scent. You decided that it was pointless, since no matter what you did, his perfume stuck to you. You even started secretly using his perfume. You felt a bit stupid, like a child stealing cookies, but you wanted his scent to be even more intense, to be with you when Harry was away.

One day, when you came to Harry's apartment, there was a surprise waiting for you. A table decorated with candles and rose petals, and expensive wine. The one you liked, and Harry, of course, remembered it.

And of course HIM. Smiling in a white shirt and with a bouquet of roses.

"Are we celebrating something?" You asked, surprised as he walked up to you and kissed you on the cheek.

Harry chuckled and nodded.

"We've been dating for half a year."

"Oh…" You felt yourself blush with embarrassment. "I… I didn't know… I didn't remember… I'm so sorry…"

He immediately wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"Hey… I wanted to share my joy with you, not make you feel indebted." He kissed the top of your head. "This is for you. For putting up with me for half a year."

You rolled your eyes and snuggled into his body.

"Being with you is the most enjoyable thing in the world."

Harry smiled contentedly and led you to the table. Of course, he pulled out a chair for you and put a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Then he knelt next to you and handed you a beautifully wrapped box.

"A gift? Harry…"

"No 'buts'. I don't want to hear that this is too much."

You knew there was no point in arguing any further. Just because other men set their bar so low, didn't mean Harry was going to. So you nodded and slowly opened the pretty wrapped present. When you saw the perfume, his perfume, you giggled.

"Really?"

He frowned.

"You don't like it… I thought you liked the smell, and you started using it and…"

You leaned down and kissed him on the lips to calm his anxiety. When you pulled away, you looked at him with adoration.

"Of course you noticed. Nothing escapes your attention."

Harry visibly sighed with relief.

"Now you'll always have my scent with you… Well… Our scent."

You giggled happily. God, how much you loved this man. You put the perfume on the table and leaned down, wrapping your arms around his neck. Harry sighed contentedly and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your breasts. You didn't mind. You wanted to hold him like that and never let go, and inhale his scent.

Permanentny tag list: @harriedandharassed @cornerofacry

[theplotdemandsit]

When Five finally makes it back home with his siblings, finally makes it back to the right timeline, he finds he’s still holding his breath. 

“Is it really over?” He thinks out loud. 

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” comes Luther’s response. 

So they do. And everything seems…normal?

But as much as Five wants to sleep for ten days straight, he can’t help but feel on edge. He spends his time visiting each sibling, popping in for dinners or briefly making sure they haven’t felt anything out of the ordinary. One day Allison asks him if he actually wants there to be an approaching apocalypse. His eyes fall onto Claire who’s catching him up on High School Musical the Musical the Series.

“No,” he answers. “I really don’t.” 

They make time for family dinners every Sunday. They still bicker and maybe swing some fists every now and then, but everyone is fast to apologize and laugh again. With room to breathe again without high stakes, the hurt finally begins to heal. They had been family before, but it slowly begins to feel like a real family. 

And for the first time, they really get to know each other. For all the crap they gave Luther about the moon, they listen as he shares the misery and loneliness and betrayal he felt. Allison describes her time as a Black woman in the 60s without her voice. Literally. Viktor tells them about what it was like growing up powerless only to end the world twice. How he lost his memory and found the one he loved only to lose that too. 

Klaus manifests Ben (who is still a ghost but as alive as he could get) and together they tell of their adventures growing up and the cult Klaus accidentally created. In between laughs, they also learn about Klaus’s harrowing experiences with drugs and death.

And Five? He has over 40 years of stories, and at first he doesn’t want to share any of it. His time in the Apocalypse, his time in the Commission, murdering for the sole purpose of survival in order to get back to his family—it’s not a side to him he wants his family to know about. 

But at the same time for reasons he can’t explain, he does want them to know. For the first time, he wants to talk to his family, the family he worked tirelessly to save. 

Little by little, he does just that. Every now and then he will start a sentence with, “Back in the Apocalypse…,” during dinner or his visits with them. Silly ones at first, like the time he had the nasty Twinkie. The time he sang all the Beatles songs he could remember and pretended he was having a concert. The time he found Umbrella Academy action figures and reenacted missions with them. 

When it’s just him and another sibling, he starts sharing some of the hard stuff too.

He tells Allison how he starved during his first winter alone and hallucinated that she had helped him find food. When he woke up he found himself in a storage house full of canned goods and bawled his eyes out.

He tells Diego about the first time he killed someone. How the scariest thing was that he wasn’t shaking. 

He tells Viktor how he sometimes still wonders if he deserves everything he got for messing with time in the first place. How he’s afraid that one of these days he’ll wake up and be alone again.

He tells Klaus about the time he thought about giving up and ending it all. 

He tells Luther about Dolores. About how even though he knew he was crazy for talking to a mannequin, Dolores was the better part of him that salvaged his sanity.

He tells Ben (and Klaus, by default) that his biggest regret is not being there. That he tries not to think about how things might have been different if he’d stayed.

Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, the tension eases from his shoulders. He stops worrying so much about the world ending and how to keep everyone alive. Instead, he spends his time going to the park with Claire, helping Diego and Lila with the babies, having midnight food outings with Klaus, and listening to Viktor play his music.

At their weekly family dinner, Luther tells Five he has a present for him and pulls out a box of Twinkies, saying, “I know you want to try one.”

Five gives him a practiced glare and says, “I would rather swim in a pot of boiling oil.”

Before, his family might have stared at him like he grew two heads, but now they laugh and think his retort is hilarious. Luther opens the box and pulls out a bag of marshmallows instead, and Five can’t help but crack a smile. 

One day they ask him what his plans are—what’s next for the oldest sibling.

Five warms his hands on a hot mug of coffee. “I’m tired of thinking about the future,” he tells them. “Right now, I just want to spend time with my family.”

That earns him plenty of “aww”s and “You’re such a softie, Five.” He waves them away and tries to duck out of their hugs, but they get him in the end. And even if he could teleport, he doesn’t want to.

He hadn’t been looking for happy, but he found it anyway.

Now cross-posted on Ao3 under the same handle!

[rhaeverie]

was not, were not, is (pt. 2) — ldh

      alt title: anything, everything, always

pairing. haechan x reader  genre. best friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, angst if you squint, he fell first and harder wc. 4.8k summary. Donghyuck's stuck dwelling on your drunken confession from the night of the wedding. That is, until he finally puts his foot down and decides that he needs to do something about it (or else he'll go crazy); alternatively, a glimpse into Donghyuck’s feelings for you over the past few years warnings. nothing horrible, just hyuck yearning for 4.8k words if i'm being honest, a drawn out (!!) confession scene (but it's cute), winter cameo, hyuck’s love language is still very much acts of service, ?excessive use of italics and long sentences an. HAPPY EARLY HAECHAN DAY!! aint no way I just wrote a part 2 that’s longer than the first part LMAO—some people asked for part 2 so i said why not (this was so self-indulgent too),,, wrote this all while listening to yearning music (aka laufey and OPM) bc i needed to channel tht mindset ykwim? i think it worked ^‿^—pls enjoy!

read part one!

Donghyuck thinks that it’s utterly ridiculous that he’s losing sleep over this.

But he’s already replayed it a shameful number of times in his head, and he still isn’t sure how he’s supposed to approach it. 

He can’t just act like you didn’t confess what could possibly be the confession he’s been waiting his whole life for. 

But he can’t just bring it up to you so carelessly either. 

Donghyuck’s afraid that if he casually pulls up to your house, drops that bomb that you drunkenly spilled your (maybe) feelings for him, that he’d be putting you in a vulnerable position that would harm your friendship (or worse, you). 

And that’s the last thing he’d want to do. 

But let’s say your feelings were real, and he doesn’t confront you about this? Then, what will happen? What if nothing else happens between the two of you and a game of waiting continues until you’d have to end up with a love you wouldn’t want and you both end up old and die of old age and—

Donghyuck gasps out loud, shooting upright in his bed as he shakes the overthinking out of his head. 

No, he can’t let that happen. Not when he’s in the position to change something.

Donghyuck glances at the clock—3:28am—and he curses under his breath. It’s late, and he remembers you have work later this morning, but there’s no way he’s going to let another night pass without acting on this.

He has already fucked up letting a week pass so, no, another night can’t wait. 

Pulling on the nearest sweater he could find, Donghyuck slips his glasses on, grabs his car keys and leaves the house in his house slippers without a second thought. There’s a little bug in his ear that’s telling him that if he were to pause for even a second, he’d change his mind and turn back.

Should he be warning you that he’s on the way to your place at fuckass o’clock to get things straight? Yes. But in Donghyuck’s mind, his priority is to get to you first and figure it out from there. 

Besides, he knows you. 

You’ll let him in, no questions asked. 

A tune on the radio causes Donghyuck’s head to pulse, and he’s quick to push the button to turn it off. He refrains from playing music on the way there. And instead, his thoughts are plagued by the words you had confessed the night of the wedding.

      “It’d be weird if it wasn’t your hand I was holding…”

Donghyuck is sure that his lip was bleeding. 

He could taste it, something metallic mixing with the aftertaste of the fruit punch. But he couldn’t care any less when he’s busy watching you and what’s-his-face sway slowly to the cheesy Ed Sheeran song. 

His eyes twitch at the way he’s gripping your hips, as if you’d run away if given the chance. But judging by the look on your face, you were far from uncomfortable, a pretty smile gracing your face. 

Donghyuck wants to hate the sight with every single living cell of his being, but how could he hate a sight if you were a part of it?

“So, do you regret it?” 

Minjeong’s voice cuts through the music, catching Donghyuck’s attention almost instantly. He feels grateful that his friend has come to distract him from his current fixation. He needed it, especially when he could feel that green monster fighting to break out of his chest.

“Regret what?” Donghyuck falls back to chewing his bottom lip, letting his gaze settle to the floor between his and Minjeong’s feet. He already knows where the conversation was going, but Donghyuck feels that choosing to avoid the topic as long as possible would save his heart from harm.

Minjeong turns to look at you and the other guy, “Oh, I don’t know… not asking her to the dance? Not asking her to dance?”

It’s funny because Minjeong doesn’t even feel the need to even ask Donghyuck. Though knowing him, having Donghyuck talk through the problem was the only way for him to process the situation.

“I’m scared to say that I do regret it,” Donghyuck almost winces, frowning.

Regret was the ugliest feeling that a person could feel—a close tie with frustration and nostalgia. They all remind you that time was a bitch and there was absolutely nothing you could do to go back and change the past.

Minjeong sighs, using her thumb and index fingers to pinch Donghyuck’s hand, “Then, why didn’t you?” 

And although Donghyuck truly, genuinely wants to answer Minjeong’s question, understanding that she was just here to help him out, he couldn’t—there’s that frustration. He couldn’t answer even if he was held at gunpoint, not accurately, at least. He could chuck words at Minjeong and hope they’d make sense. 

He figured you’d have more fun like this, anyway, going to prom with someone who wasn’t afraid to cross boundaries. He wanted you to live the night to the fullest, something you were droning on and on about for the past few weeks. 

The way he pieced his thoughts together was odd, but it made sense in the moment. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, and in return, he could keep his own heart safe from jumping out of his chest throughout the entire night, which then means he wasn’t at risk of ruining your friendship.

It was a win-win. 

Well, at least that’s how he wished he could confidently interpret it.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck whispers, “But it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay if you look like you’ve been dragged through dirt, not once, but twice,” Minjeong points out, letting out a short snort. “You need to consider your own feelings, Hyuck. Be selfish for once. I say this for the sake of you and Y/N.” 

Donghyuck takes one more glance at you, your hands now linked with this other boy. Then he blinks down at his own hands, Minjeong having taken the lead because Donghyuck had initially refused to even step foot on the dance floor. 

He wonders how it feels to hold your hands like this. He was sure that it wasn’t the same as you taking his hand and dragging him through the halls, or him taking yours and guiding you through a busy street. 

He wonders how it feels to hold your hands like this. When it feels like it’s just the two of you and the music nudging at you both to dance to its tune.

He wonders how it’d feel to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

He wonders if they’d fit like puzzle pieces. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, “If she’s okay, then I am too.”

      “If it wasn’t you I was waking up to…”

The first thing that plagues Donghyuck’s head the second he wakes up is the memories of last night’s sleepover and you. 

Just you. 

He hasn’t even opened his eyes, and all he could think about was you. 

He quickly concludes that he’s certainly gone crazy. 

Well, maybe not mentally crazy, but crazy over you. 

He remembers falling asleep, missing your guys’ nightly sleepovers during the summer as kids. The games you’d play in an attempt to go to sleep, only failing because it’d lead you both to tears from trying to hold in your laughs. Midnight snacks tucked under his bed despite his mom’s disapproval. Parents sticking to check up on both, only to find you both wide awake…

He compares it to you guys now and how it’s been rare because of life and how busy it's gotten. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Donghyuck hears you giggle quietly, sun bleeding through the blinds soon covered by the shadow of your figure. He feels a tap on his nose. “I know you’re awake, sleepyhead.”

He draws his eyes open, though slowly, just so it isn’t too obvious that he was already awake. He suppresses a smile at your hyperfixation on his nose, the tip of it burning from making contact with your finger. 

“Good morning, Hyuck,” you squat next to him at his bedside, bringing your face down to his level, “Well, it’s more like late-morning, but still.” 

Donghyuck’s eyes flicker to his clock and reads that it was nearing noon. Then he settles his gaze back on you. You’re smiling down at him, eyes still a bit droopy and a bit puffy from waking up not too long before he did. He watches as they light up at a thought, and you settle comfortably on the floor. “I had a crazy dream last night…”  

And that’s all Donghyuck manages to hear because soon he’s distracted by your messy hair, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, your chapped lips, the sleeve of your shirt hanging loosely off your shoulder, your exposed collarbone, the way you’re somehow so talkative just minutes after you’ve woken up…

How could you be so perfect after waking up? 

Donghyuck doesn’t notice the way his eyes soften, brows relaxing and sinking to a neutral state. His jaw lies slack, but the pillow underneath his cheek holds it closed. And then there’s a familiar flutter in his chest, one that he’s grown accustomed to every time he looks at you.

His mind leaps to a new thought: what would it be like to be able to wake up and see you? You being the first sight he sees when he’s just woken up from a dream or a nightmare or a dreamless sleep? 

God, he would never get tired of that. 

And Donghyuck was a lover of sleep. Knowing he could wake up and see you the second he did? He’d look forward to waking up if that was the case.

But that’s likely something he could only imagine.

“And it’s funny because Renjun… Hyuck?” 

Donghyuck lies there, taking in your appearance. 

One day, he’ll gather up the courage to tell you how beautiful you were—are—a genuine compliment that wasn’t followed by an affectionate insult. 

“Hyuck? You okay?” You question. Holding a hand up, you wave it in front of his face and watch the way he blinks and shakes his head, almost as if you’ve taken him out of a trance. You frown, “Was it that boring?” 

“No, sorry, Princess,” Donghyuck replies, the rarely used nickname slipping out, “I was just… processing everything.” 

“Yeah… shouldn’t have bombarded you like that, huh?” You say sheepishly.

“You didn’t—you never bombard me. I like hearing your crazy dreams,” Donghyuck shakes his head, reassuring you, “I’ll cook us brunch and you tell me what happened? I’m hungry.”

      “If the kisses I was getting weren't from your lips…”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

The entire room chants, some wedding-goers use the nearest utensil to tap lightly on the wine glasses. The room was buzzing, and it was difficult not to get caught up in the excitement. 

Donghyuck, himself, was cheering along, throwing a fist up as if he were protesting. He feels like it was appropriate at a time like this, the two newlyweds having just shared a heartfelt speech to sum up the day, and ending it with a kiss would tie it together. 

You’re seated at his side, all danced out and far past tipsy. You’ve mentioned to him around once or twice that your head was spinning, your feet were hurting, and that you were thirsty. So he’s dragged you off the dance floor to let you rest and get you hydrated. 

Now you’re clinging onto his arm so you don’t topple over, still aware enough of the situation to chant along with everyone else. You’re giggling, watching as your cousin and her now husband shyly turn to each other before leaning in. 

Donghyuck’s heart swells. He’s known your cousin for so long, and has only been familiar with her partner for a fraction of that time, but he knows how long they’ve been together. He can’t help but admire the idea that two people can still be so in love after so long—he wonders if he can find love like that, too. 

You squeal when the couple shares a kiss, the room erupting in whoops and cheers. They smile into the kiss, eyes lulling shut out of instinct. It was a cute kiss, not one you’d cringe and want to look away at, but one that could shake jealousy out of you. 

Donghyuck turns to look at you amidst all that was happening, eyes melting when he sees you resting your head against his shoulder. You’re unaware that his attention has shifted to you, completely distracted by the stars of the day. The softest look occupies your face, as if you were in a dream state. 

Out of curiosity, his attention stumbles down onto your lips, which look just as plush as he’s imagined. 

Sure, Donghyck’s stolen glances of your lips before, and sometimes he lets his mind wander about what it would be like to press his own against yours. Then he lets his thoughts drift even further, knowing that it’s been long established that he could not for the life of him imagine himself kissing anyone else.

He’s a terrible friend for thinking this about you—at least that’s what he believes. But he can’t help it. Tonight, they look so tempting to just bring his head down and just… 

“Donghyuck?” 

Donghyuck turns to find your mom, “Hi, Auntie.” He fixes a smile on his face and gestures to you, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her from drinking too much.” His cheeks heat up, slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t fulfilled his promise to your mom.

Your mom shakes her head and laughs, “Sometimes it’s okay to let go like that. Besides, I trust you watching her. Thank you, by the way.”

Donghyuck nods his head before your mom takes his hand, “Can you please take her home? Knowing her, she'll pass out soon. I need to stay here and help the hosts clean up a bit.”  

He doesn’t hesitate to say yes, gathering all your things before he carefully guides you out of the venue.

      “I just feel like it’ll all be wrong if it wasn’t with you…”

“Hyuck? What the hell?!”

You tug Donghyuck into your apartment, brows furrowed because it was just shy of 4 AM and your best friend is standing in your living room, out of breath. Questions are racing through your mind, having absolutely no idea what could be happening. 

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” 

Donghyuck cursed under his breath. He hadn’t gone that far into saying what he had to say. He’s still hung up on your confession, playing in his head like a broken record. 

“Y/N…” There’s a lump in his throat and he feels as though he wants to cry, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe he was overwhelmed, or maybe because he’s scared that his spontaneous decision to show up here could ruin your friendship, and it’d be his fault. “Y/N I…”

Say words goddamnit. 

Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut, scouring the depths of his mind for the perfect thing to say, something that would work in his favour. His lips part, but only air comes out.

Then you yawn, simply because you’re tired. But you fight fatigue and wait patiently for Donghyuck to say something. The man has always been like this. His actions were always greater than his words. “Do you want tea, Hyuck? I’ll make us so—“

“No,” Donghyuck hastily refuses, “I mean, thank you… but I’m okay…” 

Regret scratches at the nape of Donghyuck’s neck. How could he play out this scenario in his head millions of times but not run through what he was supposed to say to you? How could he bring the problem up without putting you on the spot about what you had said? 

“You know what? I’m sorry for barging in like this, you’re tired and you need sleep and—“ 

“Lee Donghyuck, if you need help with something, then literally fuck sleep,” you scoff, smoothing your bed head out. 

You begin moving to the kitchen, the idea of tea now sounding appealing, but Donghyuck is quick to stop you. “No, Y/N, I’m actually fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you counter, “It’s obviously bothering you if you came here at this hour.” You lean forward and squint at your best friend through the dim lighting of your apartment. It’s easy to make out his eye bags and his beaten-up bottom lip from all the chewing. You know damn well… “And it even looks like you’ve been going through it. You can tell me, you know that, right?”

Donghyuck nods, still at a loss for words. He’s afraid to make eye contact with you for too long, letting his eyes flicker between you and the floor.

“But,” you follow up, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, too. I’ll still be here to listen then.” 

Silence dances in the air while you wait for Donghyuck to say something. He doesn’t know that you can see the way his eyes shift back and forth in deep thought, or the way his teeth cling onto his lip for comfort. 

Then Donghyuck says, “Can I stay over?” 

A tired smile rises onto your lips, “I wasn’t letting you out at this hour, anyway.” 

“Are there blankets and pillows in the extra closet? I’ll grab them—“ 

“Hyuck, you can sleep in my bed like always.” 

Shit. 

Donghyuck nearly panics, eyes growing wide. Sure, it wasn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, but sleeping with you in the same bed with his current state? When the only secret he’s kept from you was waiting to be hacked out after years of lingering in his chest? 

“You have no choice,” you protest, reading his mind. Huffing out a loud sigh, you reach for Donghyuck’s hand, instinctively slipping your fingers in between his before you yank his taller figure to your room. Donghyuck can’t find it in him to protest, words stuffed down and trapped in his throat. 

When you let go, Donghyuck almost reaches back out to keep your hand in his. 

You’re quick to settle back into your bed, letting out another yawn as you watch Donghyuck expectantly. Almost like you were going to start throwing a fit if he didn’t fill the spot next to you.

And that’s how Donghyuck finds him laying right next to you, heart damn near breaking his ribcage and defeaning his ears. He’s thankful that you have your back turned to him, completely oblivious to his state. It feels like he’s going to implode if he doesn’t say anything. 

It was kind of funny—maybe to an audience, but not to him. 

“What would it take for you to stop being my friend?” Donghyuck blurts out. The mattress shifts underneath him, and he feels your body turn to face him, peering at him through the darkness. 

You raise a brow, but it’s hidden in the darkness. You scoff, “What kind of question is that?” 

Donghyuck sighs, “Please, just answer it.” 

Sensing the tone in Donghyuck’s voice, you press your lips together and think, what would it take to stop being friends with Donghyuck?

“Everything,” you say simply, “But even then, I think I’d still forgive you.”

“I call bullshit,” he murmurs, “What if I killed someone and pinned the blame on you? What if I broke something special and irreplaceable to you? What if I purposely broke your leg or… or…”

“Those are all so stupidly unbelievable, Hyuck. You’d do none of that,” you chuckle, “At least make it believable.” 

Donghyuck almost chokes, his heart fighting to escape his chest. It’s like it was pushing up his throat as if he were ready to throw it up. “Or what if… my feelings for you changed and yours didn’t change in the way mine did?”

“Hyuck… you’re scaring me… Did I do something wrong?” you frown, heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “Fuck, it was when I was drunk wasn’t it? Did I say or do something wrong?”

      “I want you to love me.”

Donghyuck panics. Now he wishes he had worded his last question differently, one that didn’t have you misinterpreting it. 

“N-no!” He hurriedly answers, “No, never. I could never hate you.” Never. 

He nervously swallows the spit pooling in his mouth because now he’s sure that he needs to be upfront about his feelings. There’s no other way he could go now. He’s taken the final path down whatever road this was. 

“What if… I fell in love with you and you didn’t love me back?” He exhales a shaky breath, both out of relief and anxiousness, afraid that he’s ruined everything. There’s silence, and it scares Donghyuck. There really was no telling what you were thinking, whether you were thinking of ways to reject him or dodge the question. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t like it.

Then, through the darkness, he hears you laugh nervously, “Hyuck… Hyuck, I said you have to make it believable.” A pause. “You can’t love me… not like that at least.” 

You finally sit up and go to turn the lamp on. Donghyuck finally sees your expression clearly in the yellow glow. Your brows are furrowed, a look of confusion stuck on your face. It looked as though you were processing what he had just said.  

Donghyuck immediately sits up, almost mirroring you. He’s ready to reach out to you, but he holds back for now. He can’t take anything back now. 

“But I do, Y/N.” His tone is sprinkled with desperation, hoping you’d hear it and understand that he’s being dead serious. 

And when it’s your turn to lack words, Donghyuck quickly musters up what he can, piecing things together under pressure in his head. He doesn’t have much time before you overthink, and he knows it. “Do you remember what you told me the night of the wedding? When I was taking you home?”

You shake your head and your heart skips a beat. Your mind tries to reel back to that night, but all you remember is Donghyuck urging you onto his back. Everything after that was a mess, like a fever dream you’re trying so hard to grasp but can’t for the life of you remember. 

“Well… I do.” Donghyuck isn’t sure if he feels dejected or relieved that you don’t remember your confession. Because if you did forget it, did it mean anything? 

Still, he continues, keeping his head down to avoid your gaze, “You said that…” He’s unsure if he should tell you everything you said, or if he should be straight to the point. He doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it feels like finally bringing this up will help him get to his point. That he really, truly, loves you. 

“You said a bunch of things, and I was reflecting on them and… and even though I’ve known my feelings for you this whole time.” Exhale. “I realized that I was pretty much thinking the same thing.” 

Donghyuck lifts his view in the slightest, enough to put your fidgeting hands in view, before he gently grabs them. He takes them in his, rubbing his finger along the bumps of your knuckles. And though he feels like he’s mainly doing this for himself, he knows that he’s comforting you, too. 

“I can’t imagine myself being with anyone but you,” Donghyuck says carefully, as if the words were fragile on his tongue, “In fact, I think I hate the idea of being with anyone but you.” He squeezes your fingers, chewing his bottom lip out of habit. 

“You told me a bunch of things,” he repeats, “But you ended it all with how you wanted me to love you. How you feel like it’s too much to ask for me to love you back every day…” Donghyuck shakes his head, frustrated when he recalls that last part, “And I hate thinking that I’ve been making you feel like that this whole time.”

“And I’m cringing at what I’m about to say… it’s pretty fucking cheesy… but… you don’t even have to ask me to love you, Y/N,” Donghyuck concludes, nodding his head, “I love you so much and… I’d do anything just to make sure you know it.” 

Donghyuck had not noticed that he was crying until a tear fell right onto his thigh. He looks up to keep more from dripping, but that’s when his eyes finally catch sight of you, eyes drowning in your own tears. 

“Shit,” he’s quick to catch them before they fall off your face, letting your hands go and wiping your cheeks with the heels of his hands, “Shit, Princess, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I—” 

“It’s okay, Hyuck,” you interrupt, shaking your head. Donghyuck continues to frantically wipe your cheeks, frowning. You can’t help but laugh, reaching for his hands and bringing them to your lap, “I’m okay.” 

“Then, why are you crying?” Donghyuck is taken back to your conversation on the night of the wedding. If this wasn’t deja vu, he wonders if there’s another word for it. 

“You’re so annoying,” you sniffle, dropping one hand and lightly hitting his knee, “You say all that and expect me not to cry?” You slip your hand back into his. 

Donghyuck’s gaze drops to your hands, thumbs tracing over his knuckles, “I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I didn’t know if your confession was real, but after I heard what you said, I couldn’t not do anything about it.” 

There’s a brief pause as you process his response. Then, just above a whisper, cutting through the thick, but comfortable, air in the room, he hears you say, “I love you, too, you know.” 

He feels his heart stutter, almost leaping right out of his chest and straight into your hands, where it belonged. But of course, now, he’d let it if it chose to do so. 

“Hyuck, I—” You let go of his hands, and this time, Donghyuck lets himself reach out back for them, a subtle flash of panic in his eyes. 

And as soon as it came, that frantic feeling dissipates when he feels your hands cup his face. You nudge his head up to look at you.

He’s confused, lips parting to say something in objection, but then he reads a look in your eyes that he’s never seen before. You’re peering at him through your lashes, and Donghyuck swears he sees the glow of your lamp dancing in swirls right in your irises. They grow big, melting into his own, and despite being unfamiliar with the emotion, he immediately understands what you’re trying to say. 

Or, better yet, what you’re trying to do.

Donghyuck’s doe eyes, as red and puffy as yours, flicker to your lips and back to your eyes. A flutter in his chest confirms what he’s feeling. He wants this—he really does. 

So he nods carefully, thoughts of finally kissing you making him dizzy as his hands instinctively travel up to your arms to draw you in… closer and closer and…

Donghyuck’s hands found their way up to cup your face, using his pinkies to angle your head so he could easily press his lips against yours. And then your arms instinctively slide up and around his neck before they fall limp and hang loosely around him. 

The kiss wasn’t passionate. 

But it was tender, and it was perfect. 

It was a kiss that perfectly suited your relationship with Donghyuck, a love that’s gentle and comforting, one that didn’t hit you both like a truck. 

Donghyuck’s head was spinning, lips moving against yours as if he wanted to memorize how they felt on his. And though he’s imagined—dreamed—about how it would be like to kiss you countless times, the raw feeling of having your lips pressed against his was nothing compared to all of that. 

He nudges his nose against yours for one final push before you both finally come up for air. Your foreheads stay connected, eyes still drawn closed and basking in the feeling of finally getting what you wanted. Donghyuck’s hands have slipped down to your waist, forearms resting against your crossed legs. You both were out of breath. You could feel Donghyuck’s air tickling the skin under your nose. 

“You don’t…” Donghyuck sighs, catching his breath, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that.” 

You giggle, eyes fluttering open before you steal a peck from his lips and pull away, “Was it worth the wait?”

Donghyuck quickly catches your wrists, tugging you back to repeat your actions. You can’t bite back a smile. 

Of course it was, he thinks. It would have been worth it no matter how long he had to wait. 

It was you, after all. 

And as far as he knew, anything and everything that had to do with you would always be worth it. 

But Donghyuck knows that he’s been cheesy enough for one night. And after noticing your tired, half-lidded eyes, though his mind floods with so many things he wants to tell you, for now, he settles for a simple answer. 

“Always.”

an: ngl i think this was one of my fav fics tht ive written ever :(( i loved writing these two so much,, likes and reblogs and comments are soso appreciated, i wanna know if u guys found this as cute as i did! thank you for reading!

[missqhughes]

HATE TO WANT YOU | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x fem!reader

-> includes: smut with plot, dom!quinn, fingering, unprotected sex, sexual themes, use of y/n, intended lowercase, platonic fem!reader x luke & jack

-> IN WHICH: y/n loves her best friend luke with all her heart, but there’s one person she can’t stand; his brother. she can’t take it anymore; in a confrontation with quinn, he can’t help but drop his facade and give her everything he’s always wanted to.

-> sexxxxyyyy request anon thank you! i too want quinn to hate me and then fuck me senseless. drooling. love it as much as i do! mwah

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

this wasn’t y/n’s first summer with the hughes brothers.

and it wasn’t her first at the lake house.

ever since they bought it, she’d been there every summer since.

she loved the hughes family, especially her best friend luke. all of them treating her like their own, all except quinn.

and now she stood in the living room, leisurely on her phone, when a rough shoulder shoves past her,

“can you not stand in the middle of hallway? always in the fucking way…” quinn mumbled, ruffling his hair whilst disappearing into the pool room.

y/n scoffed, trying to appear unphased by quinn’s attitude.

quinn had it out for her for so long she couldn’t even remember a time he didn’t act like he hated her. shoving her roughly whenever they all would play together, putting spiders on her body in the summer when he knew she was afraid, and god, all his rude comments galore.

she shook out of her thoughts, making her way to luke’s room, knocking five times to signal to the other that it was them.

“come in!”

she didn’t bother creaking open the door, luke was sitting on his computer playing video games, her flinging herself onto his bed. y/n sighed, causing him to pause his focus and face her,

“what’s wrong? you never just dramatic sigh for nothing.”

she sat up, scrunching her nose before answering, “have you ever noticed… that like… do you think quinn hates me?”

luke gave her a look, “hates you? like genuinely?”

“yes.”

for some corrupt reason in her mind, he started laughing at her question,

“luke! it’s not funny! i’m being serious.”

luke held is stomach, his laughter dying down a bit, “he just treats you like a little sibling that’s all. plus why do you care what quinn thinks? you’ve never brought it up before.”

his words stirred in her brain. sure, she had never mentioned it, but deep down it bothered her and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

because it was just plain rude?

because she couldn’t stand up for herself?

because she found quinn attractive?

thinking about it all made her chest feel weird.

“i don’t care. i mean, i guess i do, i don’t want my best friends brother to hate me for the rest of our lives,” y/n sighs, laying back down on luke’s messy sheets.

he removed his headset and sat next to her, patting her leg affectionately,

“dude you’re fine, i promise he doesn’t hate you, lighten up okay? you’re freaking me out,”

the two giggled softly at his comment, y/n feeling better with luke’s reassurance but not quite. nonetheless, she decided to ignore it.

“sorry, sorry, can’t be mopey here. let’s go down to the dock yeah?”

luke’s smile grew, “race you down there?” he lightly shoved her off his bed, out of his bedroom,

“i’ll beat you to it lukey!”

——————————————————————————

y/n did beat luke down to the dock, only to be met with quinn.

and only quinn.

not even picking up his head to look at her, quinn continued to scroll on his phone as y/n laid her towel down.

“y/n.”

“hello quinn.”

the awkward silence sat between them per usual when this sort of thing happened, when they were finally in a weird position of being alone together. y/n put her sunglasses on, feeling quinn’s glare branding her skin every time he looked at her.

in time to save her, luke ran down, towel and speaker in hand.

“damn it!” he huffed, completely out of breath and throwing his things down next to hers in defeat. she giggled, and saw quinn rolling his eyes out of the corner of hers.

quinn cleared his throat, getting up off the chair, “well now that the peace and quiet is gone, i’m going up. see you guys for dinner.” and with that, he disappeared up to the house.

luke waved off his brother, focused on his phone picking a song. y/n watched until she knew quinn was out of sight, then shoved luke hard in the shoulder,

“shit y/n, what the hell was that for?”

“i told you he hates me. he literally just went up as soon as i came down!”

“dude, he went up because he knew we’re gonna play music and you know how he is. seriously what’s up with you? you’re way too bothered by this.”

she rolled her eyes at him, not really being able to exactly articulate why she felt the way she did. at least not to him.

“i told you already i just don’t want him hating me for the rest of our lives,”

“want me to ask?”

y/n’s eyes widened, shoving luke once more, “no! that’s so embarrassing luke don’t,”

he shoved her back, “then YOU ask him, jesus! ask him after dinner or something,”

she laid on her side, facing him with contemplation in her eyes, he shrugged in response, “doesn’t hurt to say somethin,”

“okay fine, but if i’m totally right then i’m blaming you.”

after soaking up the hot summer sun, y/n and luke retreated back into the house. both exhausted, they parted their ways until dinner.

not another body was sighted in the house, and thinking quinn and jack went to the store, she went down to the kitchen to get a drink, restoring the energy the sun brought out of her.

she grabbed a coke from the fridge, hearing footsteps behind her she turned her head around, and there was quinn.

she all of a sudden felt very exposed in front of him her small bikini, especially alone in the kitchen. it’s different on the dock, you’re not supposed to be wearing barely nothing inside.

she turned her head back, hearing quinn let out a long exhale as he slipped past her, likely annoyed by just her simply being in his vicinity. the tension still stood thick between them, and in the discomfort y/n made a break for her room, not looking back.

——————————————————————————

she tried to get through dinner as normal, but y/n couldn’t control the bouncing in her leg, the anxiety of asking quinn the dreaded question manifesting through the rest of her body.

after everyone was done, her and luke stood beside each other doing dishes, him giving her a slight nudge when quinn left and settled with jack in the living room.

“so are you gonna say something?” he whispered, barely loud enough for her own ears to pick up,

“yeah i will, just not right now. not when there’s an audience,” she said wiping her hands, waiting for luke to finish up.

“you guys wanna watch a movie?” jack’s voice echoed,

“yeah we’re coming!” luke replied, waving her over to walk with him. they sat on the two available chairs, while jack and quinn occupied the couch.

jack had already picked something out, and even though it had just started, she felt eyes peering at her. y/n continued to look over at luke, who was focused on the screen, thinking it was him. she looked over at jack, who was in the same boat as his younger brother, then eventually landing at quinn.

his jaw ever so slightly squeezed tighter when her eyes met his, wandering his piercing eyes to the tv. she shuffled in the chair, attempting to mend the discomfort she felt.

——————————————————————————

with about an hour left of the movie, jack stretched, yawning as he sat up from the couch, “i’m gonna go to bed, i’m exhausted, night everyone,”

everyone said goodnight back as he left, leaving just the three of them behind.

this time, luke was looking over at y/n, and when her glance met his, she saw him looking at the situation in front of him, seeing the idea formulate in his head.

y/n looked at him with a pleading face, begging for him not to put the pressure on her right then and there, but he ignored,

“you guys can finish the movie without me, i’m lowkey really tired too.”

“luke,” y/n began, slightly weary,

“goodnight,” he said quickly, jogging to his bedroom, as fast and as least suspicious as possible. she fell back in the plush chair gently, avoiding even looking in quinn’s direction.

they sat there, she was sure neither of them were even watching, and decided that it was enough,

“can i ask you something?” she breathed out, feeling like the air from her lungs came with her words.

quinn turned his head to look at her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, not expecting her to say anything,

“what?”

“why do you not like me?”

the questioned lingered in the air for far longer than she felt okay with. feeling frustrated, she got up, cursing at herself internally for even asking him such a question,

“wait,”

she doesn’t, instead marches straight to her room, not stopping when she hears footsteps behind her.

she gets halfway down the hallway just at the staircase before a gasp leaves y/n’s breath when she feels herself be spun around and pinned onto the wall.

quinn pins her by the hips, eyes staring deep into her own, an unreadable expression on his face.

“you didn’t let me finish.”

“then finish.” she spat back, done with his antics and still embarrassed about leaving her hanging in the living room.

“i was going to say i don’t hate you, before you ran away like a scared little kid.”

she scoffed, not believing a word he said when he just had to throw in an insult in.

“you really expect me to believe that? you’ve done nothing but torn into me since the day we’ve met. i don’t get it, i’ve done nothing to you quinn. nothing.”

he let her words soak into him, taking in all of herself in front of him, admiring it internally.

“it’s not you as a person i hate.” he said, the placement on her hips unwavering,

“so you do hate me,” she kissed her teeth, “then what is it quinn? what do you hate about me that isn’t just me?”

his breathing was hard yet steady, thinking over his next words,

“for one,”

his grip tightened,

“i hate that you’re talking back to me right now,”

y/n’s heart rate picked up,

“i hate how fucking hot you look when you dance around in practically nothing all day,”

his hands moved up slightly,

“i hate how much lukey loves you, how you’re all his and-”

“-luke and i will never be that,” she stopped him, not wanting him, or anyone for that matter, to think her and luke were anything more than friends.

“not what i meant. he gets to spend all this time with you, here there everywhere, and it makes me hate you.”

she felt her heartbeat everywhere in her body, ears hot and arousal seeping through her with his words.

y/n swallowed, “why does that make you hate me?” she whispered, falling into this version of quinn right before her eyes.

“because i hate that i want you, you of all people,” he said lowly, face moving close enough to where their breaths could mingle, crossing territories neither of them have dared to even look at with each other.

“if you don’t like this, tell me. if it’s too much, tell me to stop,” his hands felt around her waist, a different kind of tensions between them now, with only air and opportunity separating them.

“don’t, don’t stop,” she let out, closing her eyes in anticipation for him. and boy, did it come.

quinn’s lips hooked on to hers, primal and eager to explore her mouth. his lips spoke louder than his voice ever could.

y/n’s hands worked their way up from his shirt covered abs to his face, holding it in her hands while he kissed her in a way that told her it wasn’t just her lips he was going to be tasting.

he savored every time his teeth sunk into her plump bottom lip, gently tugging and feeling himself grow harder with the soft noises she let out whenever he did so.

quinn walked them to the couch, and he pulled away to push her down softly, y/n looking at up at him, needy and wanting more. he wasted no time in diving down to kiss her again, his hand finding its way down her shorts.

he smiled devilishly when he was met with a damp spot in her underwear, knowing she was fully soaked underneath,

“already fucking dripping for me huh? m’sure you’ve wanted this,” he mumbled against her lips, feeling her moan on his when he started rubbing her clit through her clothed core.

he pulled away, wanting to see how she looked withering under his teases. y/n’s bottom lip was between her teeth, one of her hands gripping onto quinn’s tshirt,

“mm, quinn, need your hands inside me,”

he knew it too, craving for his fingers to fuck her pussy and make a mess on his hand.

he peeled off her shorts, mouth almost watering seeing her pussy drip through her panties. he moved them to the side, running his ring and middle fingers between her folds before plunging them into her.

y/n covered her mouth, knowing the guttural moan that was going to escape her lips was uncontrollable. her back arched as he curled his fingers, using his thumb to circle her clit at a pace soon to send her over the edge.

her grip on his shirt caused her knuckles to turn white, and he felt her clench around his fingers, close to her release,

“yeah that’s it… cum for me, y/n,”

she panted, legs shaking slightly as the tightness in her stomach loosed, her juices glistening all over his hand as he pumped into her through her high.

quinn brought his hands up to lick his fingers, cleaning her off of them,

“you taste so fucking good, god i need you,”

y/n grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, drunken off quinn making her cum so quick.

“fuck me, quinn hughes. fuck me like you hate me.”

those words were enough for him, effortlessly he threw her over his shoulder, grabbing her shorts and carrying her up towards his room, the one place in the house she had never been.

he put her down on his bed, y/n taking in every part of quinn’s room, a sight she had yet to look at.

he was sure as hell neater than luke, little canucks things here and there as well as small things he’s collected over the years. it was cute to her to see the difference in how he acted vs his safe space, even a small teddy bear resting on his dresser.

her mind went back to reality when she heard the door click, quinn turning back to crawl on top of her on his bed.

he slightly pushed her legs apart, y/n hooking them around his waist instinctively, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her jaw and neck.

y/n felt her core growing burning hot, squeezing her legs tight around his waist, desperate for friction on her core.

“you needy huh? turn around.”

y/n obliged, but not before taking off her shirt, whilst facing quinn, seeing his adam’s apple shift when she was left in just a bra and underwear.

she turned around, sticking her ass high in the air for him, quinn admiring her arch pulled her panties down her legs, a bead of arousal following with.

he couldn’t wait any longer, he stripped off all his layers of clothing, pumping his stiff dick leaking with precum before aligning himself with her.

at first he pumped slowly, just to get himself fully inside, but after that he slammed into her, erotic noises emitting from the muffled sheets whilst he fucked her senseless.

quinn groaned at the feeling of y/n around his dick, squeezing it perfectly every time he pounded her in just the right spot.

she gripped his sheets hard, feeling herself come undone underneath him, whimpering into the bed with pleasure.

quinn snaked his around her neck, pulling her up by it and fucking her harder,

“you like it— shit, when i fuck you like this?”

“fuck oh my god, yes quinn, mm,”

he pushed her back into the bed, his thrusts become sloppy and untamed, dick twitching as he let go inside of her, warm release coating the inside of her pussy.

quinn flipped her back over, kissing her cheek before collapsing next to her on the bed, both still buzzing from sex.

“quinn?”

“yeah?” he replied, still trying to catch the rhythm in his lungs,

“i don’t think you hate me anymore,” y/n said, breathlessly laughing as she closed her eyes, also trying to regain herself.

he chuckled softly, handing her clothes back to her before putting on his own.

“as much as i’d like you to stay,” he said, running a hand through his now messed up hair, “you should go back to your room, wouldn’t want lukey having a heart attack seeing you come out of my room in the morning huh?”

she shuddered at just the thought of it, “absolutely not,” she stood up, shaky legs carrying her to his door, quinn right behind,

“but between us, you’ll be back in here tomorrow night.”

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[currrentfixations]

piece by piece — ahn suho

pairing: ahn suho x fem!reader

genre: sorta angsty but not really? idk tbh

word count: 1.7k words

note: i know suho’s in a private room but let's pretend he got shifted to a shared room after he woke up for the sake of the fic 🫡

masterlist!

you were still able to recall the day you were admitted to the hospital. it felt as though you were floating outside of your body, watching the doctors wheel you into the surgery room.

you vividly remembered when the words, "i'm afraid you won't be able to play volleyball anymore" were spoken to you. you were heartbroken. volleyball had been your life, a core part of your identity — it basically was your identity.

at the age of 12 — with a pair of braces, a lisp, and an awful haircut — you ran to your mother. you had a dream, you had become an olympic volleyball player and won a gold medal.

after that day, you began attending volleyball club, you joined your schools team, and whenever you had free time you'd always be seen with a volleyball in your hand. you did anything and everything you could to improve your skills. and you had, you'd become one of the top players in your area and captain of haedong high's volleyball team.

6 years, 6 whole years you had devoted to the sport. and one wrong move during a game made it all go down the drain.

now you were here, at sungang university hospital. you sat on the edge of your bed, facing the window. the sun was gleaming through, hurting your already tear-ridden eyes.

your brain kept replaying flashbacks of your injury. the dive. the moment. the pain. you couldn't do this, you had to get out of here. you felt confined.

you were pulled out of your spiral suddenly when you heard the curtain surrounding your bed being pulled. turning around you saw a boy. a boy with jet black hair and bangs that were almost too long, threatening to poke his eyes.

wiping away your tears, you spoke up.

"can i help you?" the boy stared back at you with wide eyes, still processing what was happening. he looked your age — he was probably your age, if not a year older.

"oh. sorry." he smiled, lifting his hand up, continuing to stare at you.

"it's okay. can you please close the curtain?" it was embarrassing that he'd seen you crying so you quickly accepted his apology. you turned back around, expecting him to close the curtain and leave.

"i'm suho." he introduced himself. any other time, you would have gotten angry and screamed to be left alone. but this could be good, this could be a distraction.

"hi suho. i'm ___." you spoke quietly.

"sorry about disturbing you. i was moved into this room and i wasn't told that there was someone else here."

you were glad that you were sharing the room with someone else after being alone for almost a week. the silence had been suffocating, and the emptiness made it feel like there was no end to your isolation. but now, with someone else's presence — even if they were a stranger — the room felt livelier. hearing suho's voice, the rustling of his hospital gown, made you feel like you weren't completely trapped in your head anymore.

"that's okay." you offered him a polite smile, hoping it didn't look forced.

you didn't know how to continue, how were you supposed to make small talk in a place like this. it wasn't like you could just ask what he was in the hospital for. it would be too awkward. you had already tried it during your first week, in the courtyard.

it was like an unspoken rule, you'd exchange reasons with people, then apologise to one another even though your injury had nothing to do with them and their injury had nothing to do with you. you'd bond over the pain and hurt for a moment and then that's where it would end. you didn't expect anything more, after all a hospital wasn't exactly the place to make friends.

"so... why are you here?" suho ripped off the bandaid and just asked. his eyes curious but calm, like he wasn't afraid to get uncomfortable.

the question hung in the air, the silence and his eyes on you made you feel like you had to answer. sensing your discomfort, suho broke the silence.

"you don't have to answer if you don't want to." he gave you an understanding smile, recognising you probably wouldn't want to tell someone you met five minutes the reason you were in the hospital.

you cleared your throat. this had been the most conversation you'd had in the past few days.

"um. i tore my right rotator cuff and had to get surgery." as the words exited your mouth, the flashbacks began again. the dive, the split-second you reached out, the loud thud as your shoulder hit the floor, and the searing pain that shot through you.

"what about you?" you asked, trying to distract yourself. your eyes wandered down to his wheelchair. maybe a leg injury?

suho racked his brain, trying to find something similar to say. he knew if he brought up that he was in a coma for the past two years, you'd feel guilty. the last thing he wanted was to make you feel like your injury wasn't enough to be sad about.

it was a common theme amongst other patients. he would tell them he recently woke up from a two-year coma and they would awkwardly laugh, brushing off their injury and joking about how they shouldn't feel bad about the reason they were in hospital.

it made him feel guilty. suho understood that they were just trying to lighten the mood but he could see through it. he didn't want their sympathy, not like this. it made him feel like he was the reason they couldn't be honest about their struggles.

"suho?"

snapping his eyes back up at you, suho watched as you intently waited for his answer. something about the way you looked at him made him feel seen, like you would understand him, like you wouldn't brush off your own injury by making a joke of it. like you wouldn't remind him of how much had slipped away while he was unconscious.

"i woke up from a coma two weeks ago."

you stared at suho for a few moments, unsure what you should say. comforting people wasn't exactly your strongest suit.

"why are you in a wheelchair?" your mouth moved before your brain could think about what to say. great. you could've said literally anything else but that's what you went with.

suho blinked at you, slightly shocked and slightly relieved. he began to laugh as you hurriedly apologised, trying to explain that wasn't what you had meant.

"it's okay. i can walk if that's what you're curious about. but i'm still pretty weak so until i get my muscle strength back i need the wheelchair."

"oh. how long.. were you in... a coma for?" you asked, your voice soft. you hoped it didn't come off as if you were prying.

"two years. it felt like two minutes, isn't that crazy?" suho tried to be humorous to uplift the mood.

"that must've been hard." you reciprocated the understanding smile he had given you earlier.

you were giving suho the same sympathy he'd received from other patients but something felt different. you weren't awkward, you were relaxed. like this topic, genuinely, wasn't making you uncomfortable.

"but hey at least i'm alive." suho shrugged, giving you a half-smile. but you could see the sadness behind his eyes.

"sorry if i made it weird. i didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable. this is the most social interaction i've had in the past week."

"it's okay." suho assured you. it'd felt nice for him to talk about it without feeling guilty. "if you don't mind me asking, you had been crying when i came in, are you okay?"

"oh, yeah —" suho's presence had made you forget all about that.

"— my injury has been a bit tough on my mental health because i had to give up something i've loved for a long time." you grimaced, just because this was the most social interaction you'd had in a while doesn't mean you had to overshare.

"that sounds... rough." suho didn't press for more details, and you were glad he didn't. you weren't ready to get into the details, not yet.

"i didn't think my injury was bad enough that i would have to give up volleyball but that's why i'm not a doctor —" you winced at your poor attempt to crack a joke. "i thought i'd be okay, but i guess i hadn't realised how much volleyball was a part of me."

"i get that. it's normal to feel like you lost a part of yourself." you looked at suho, shocked at how much his words resonated with you.

"i feel like i'm me but i'm not." those words hit suho hard. he knew all too well what that felt like. he was 18 now but he still felt like his 16-year-old self. he felt stuck, like he had been left behind while everyone moved forward.

"i get that too. i feel like the 16-year-old version of me, but that's not me anymore. and i think it'll take time for me, for us to learn and figure out who we are now."

your heart broke for him. he'd been so young. two years, gone just like that. you hadn't realised you were crying until you felt teardrops land on your hospital pants, darkening the fabric in uneven patches.

"hey. why are you crying?"

you shook your head, wiping away your tears. clearing your throat, you apologised. every emotion was hitting you at once.

"thanks.. it helps, talking about it." you confessed, it was so easy to talk to him. what was it about him — a complete stranger — that made you feel safe.

maybe it was the fact that he was your age, or maybe it was the fact that he had no expectations for you. because he wasn't here just waiting for you to get over it and be okay again.

"i should be thanking you. this was better than the therapy sessions i have to go to."

you let out a soft giggle.

"let's make a deal, i'll help you discover a new passion if you help me catch up on teenage experiences i've missed." suho extended his hand out for you to shake.

you shuffled down the bed, shaking his hand. letting out a hearty laugh, you accepted. suho smiled to himself, he watched as your eyes crinkled and you threw your head back. he felt accomplished for finally making you laugh.

you took back what you said before, you could make friends in a hospital. and you think you just made your first friend.

for @chescaandion who requested it 😊

[achilles-rage]

Can’t Hold Back

summary: the three times you almost jump eddie, and the one time you do.

word count: 3.7k

request: anon- I NEEEED something about reader being obsessed with Eddies moustache, just her wanting to jump him constantly cos she finds it so hot. Sorry I am so obsessed with the stache it’s unhealthy.

a/n: this was longer than i originally intended, but when i was writing the last part, the urge i have to suck the soul out of this man took over and we got this. i kept thinking about the ring pop scene when he tilts his head back okay?? sue me!! anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, tiny comb slander (affectionately<3), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

You remember the first time you saw Eddie’s mustache. You were extremely busy with work, so you hadn’t seen him for a couple weeks. When you finally had time to see each other, he invited you over for dinner, and when he opened the door, you weren’t sure what to do. 

He seemed a little nervous to show you, but you quickly reassured him that you liked it. Actually, you fucking loved it, but you felt a little weird about telling him that it made you want to drag him to the bedroom and not come out until the next day.

When he sets down the plate of food in front of you, your mouth waters. With so much newfound free time, he finally forced himself to learn to cook better, and it was definitely paying off. He seems so proud of himself when you take a bite and have to fight back a moan, and as amazing as the food is, you still struggle to finish your plate instead of skipping right to the end of the night.

It doesn’t help that the entire dinner, he’s extremely interested in everything you have to say; excited to finally catch up on everything going on the past few weeks that you insisted you “just had to tell him in person.” 

He’s being so attentive and sweet, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

Everytime he touches his mustache, or brings his napkin up to wipe his face, your eyes are glued to his lips. Frankly, you feel a little bit insane for how much you love the new addition to his face. You wonder if he’d be willing to grow a beard as well?

Once dinner is finished, you help him clear the table, and as he rinses the plates in the sink, you lean against the counter beside him. God, he’s even more attractive when he’s not paying attention, you think. He’s rambling on about a call he got the other day at work, and you try to listen intently, but with the way his mouth is moving, every word is pretty much in one ear and out the other.

When he reaches for the dish towel to dry his hands, you move to stand in front of him, slipping your arms around his neck and pulling him against you. Your lips find his quickly, and after he lets out a quiet hum of surprise, his arms are wrapping around your plush middle, keeping you against him as you deepen the kiss.

Just as you start to trail one hand down his chest, desperate to get to his belt, he breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead against yours as he takes in a big breath of air, his eyes sparkling and a big smile on his face. God, he’s missed this.

“I have a surprise.” he tells you softly, as if afraid to disturb the calmness surrounding you two.

“What?” you ask with a grin, although the question begging to fall from your lips is “what the hell could be better than this surprise?” 

“They’re playing your favourite movie at the theatre downtown; some kind of anniversary special. I got us tickets.” he tells you excitedly, giddy to see your reaction. 

Your smile widens, and you laugh quietly before you pull him back in for a kiss. You mumble a “thank you” against his lips, and when you pull away, he’s grinning almost as widely as you are.

“Anything for you, mi amor.” he tells you earnestly, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the sentiment. You’re a little disappointed; all you wanted was to drag him to bed, or the couch, or honestly, the kitchen counter. But, you are excited about being able to see your favourite movie in the theatre, and he’s so proud of himself. You know you can’t do what you’ve been waiting for since he let you into his house, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less excited about going out with Eddie for the night. Your plans will just have to wait.

You watch with a small smile as Eddie frantically moves around the house, trying to find his wallet and keys so he can get to work. You can see both items from where you’re leaning against the wall near the front door, waiting to see him off. You let him search for a minute before you call his name, and when he turns, his shoulders relax upon setting site on you holding his wallet in one hand, and his keys in the other.

He closes the distance between you and grabs the keys from your hand, then raises his other hand to cup your cheek and bring his lips to your forehead. You close your eyes for a moment as he presses a soft kiss to your skin, wishing he didn’t have to leave so soon.

“What would I do without you, mi amor?” he murmurs fondly when he pulls away. He takes a moment to scan your face, taking in the small smile on your lips, and the sparkle in your eyes, and he silently thanks God that you’re in his life.

“I love you.” he finally says, then drops his hand from your cheek and makes his way toward the front door.

“Forgetting something?” you ask with a smirk when he opens the front door. He turns to you with a confused look, then makes his way back over to you slowly. He pulls you into him by the flesh of your hips, giving you a deep kiss. You feel his mustache tickle your skin, and you smile into the kiss, feeling his panic about being late temporarily melt away as he focuses on you.

When he pulls away, he gives you a wink, then turns again towards the door. You laugh softly as you roll your eyes; is that seriously what he thought he forgot? If he weren’t actually so late, you’d let him get all the way to his truck before you speak up again.

“Eddie,” you say with a laugh, trying to get his attention. “I meant your wallet, but I love where your mind went.” you tease when he turns to you again. His brows are furrowed, and when he sees you still holding his wallet in your hand, you see the redness appear in his cheeks. He covers his slight embarrassment up with a chuckle, then reaches out and takes his wallet. 

“Then I guess I forgot two things.” he says, trying to cover up his mistake with a cocky smirk. You shake your head, the smile stuck on your face as you narrow your eyes. 

He takes the extra time to press another kiss to your lips, this one deeper, and your knees almost buckle when his hand comes up to lightly grip your throat. You try to chase his lips when he pulls back, but he holds your head back with that same smirk etched on his face. 

God, if it weren’t for his shift in 10 minutes, you’d be pushing him over to the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. How the hell was he able to turn the tables so quickly? One second he’s embarrassed, and the next he has the heat rushing to your cheeks and your heart hammering in your chest.

“I love you.” he tells you again, and you nod, swallowing as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes trail down to the hair above his upper lip, and you lick your lips. How can a mustache be this attractive? All you want to do is keep him home all day and show him just how much you like the new facial hair he’s sporting.

“I love you.” you murmur, and then he’s gone; out the door and in his truck before you can react. Motherfucker, you think, he knows what he’s doing.

“Eds, have you seen my necklace?” you call from the bedroom. You know you wore it to his house; you remember making sure it was facing the right way last night when you were in his bathroom before dinner. Even so, you’ve looked everywhere, and it’s nowhere to be found.

“It’s in here!” he calls back from his bathroom, and you let out a relieved sigh. The necklace isn’t expensive or sentimental or anything, but it is one of your favourites.

You let out a laugh when you walk into the bathroom, seeing the smallest comb you think you’ve ever seen, looking even smaller in Eddie’s large hands. He turns to you with a frown, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, keep laughing. I’ll remember this the next time you tell me how much you love how soft it is.” he says with a scoff, a teasing glint in his eyes. You laugh softly, shaking your head as you walk further into the bathroom and grab your necklace off the counter.

He has a point, you guess. You do love how it feels against your skin when his lips are on yours, or when he’s nipping at your neck, or when he’s pressing open mouth kisses to your inner thighs.

You feel desire pooling in your stomach as you think about it, but you try to ignore it as you look at yourself in the mirror and clasp your necklace around your neck. 

You’re very sure that he keeps using the stupid little comb for longer than he should as you stand there fiddling with your necklace. Surely it doesn’t take more than 3 swipes with the comb to do whatever the hell he thinks he’ll accomplish with it.

You can’t help the small laugh that tumbles out of your mouth as you shake your head, trying to snap out of the weird trance Eddie has you in. How can him using a goddamn mini comb be so attractive? It doesn’t help that he’s wearing his LAFD shirt, and it’s just tight enough to show the outline of his chest.

“What?” he asks when your laugh hits his ears. You hum softly, shaking your head as you fight back a smile. 

“Nothing, nothing.” you try to wave him off, finally tearing your attention back to your necklace and securing it around your neck.

He narrows his eyes at you, and you both make eye contact through the mirror, but neither of you say another word. You take a step back as he leans away from the mirror and stands up straight, and you can’t fight the loud giggle you let out when you see that he not only has a tiny comb, but a tiny holder for his tiny comb.

“What the hell is that?” you ask through giggles, and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t wanna lose it, do I?” he replies, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable answer.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how important your little comb is.” you tease. Tiny comb and holder aside, he looks incredibly good today. The worst part is, you have a while before either of you have to leave for the day, and you can’t even take advantage of the situation. If you were to throw yourself at him right now, he’d never let you forget that his tiny comb that you made fun of him for couldn’t even stop you from still wanting him.

You’re at the grocery store with Eddie when you hear a scream from a few aisles over, then a frantic voice yelling for help. You freeze for a moment, your heart rate spiking and your hair standing on end, but when Eddie races out of the aisle and towards the situation, you snap out of it. 

You follow him, cart momentarily forgotten as you jog in the direction Eddie ran in. When you make it to the aisle, you see an older man passed out on the floor, and a woman is standing over him in tears while Eddie checks his pulse. 

You can hardly hear anything when Eddie turns to you, and it’s only when he waves his hand in front of his face that you can hear him. You blink a few times, then reach into your purse with shaky hands to grab your phone and dial 9-1-1 like Eddie asked. 

You kneel beside him and put the phone on speaker, holding it out in front of him so he can speak to the dispatcher. As Eddie continues to assess the man while speaking to the dispatcher, another man kneels down on the other side of the older man, trying to tell Eddie what to do. 

Eddie explains to him that he doesn’t need help calmly, and you’re not sure how he can remain so mellow right now, even if this is his job. Your hands are shaking, and all you’re doing is holding the phone.

The man continues to try to help, doing what you assume is everything wrong, because after a moment, Eddie erupts.

“Back up. You’re making it worse. I’m not gonna let him die because of you.” The man raises his hands in surrender, then slowly stands up and backs up. You watch as Eddie goes back to tending to the man, licking your lips in a desperate attempt to wet your dry lips. 

You feel extremely guilty, but the way Eddie just takes over has you too aware of everything around you. You can feel the thin layer of sweat on your skin from the stress, you can feel your heart beating in your chest, and you can feel the way Eddie’s thigh is touching the outside of yours. This is definitely not the time, but he’s just so smart, so capable.

You finally snap out of it when the paramedics come in, tapping your shoulder gently to urge you to move out of their way. You hang up the phone haphazardly as you stand up, feeling Eddie’s arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting on your hip and pulling you against him as he backs the both of you up to give the paramedics even more room.

You can feel Eddie’s breath on your neck when he leans his head towards you and whispers into your ear.

“Are you okay, baby?” You shiver at the sensation, nodding quickly as you blink a few times. “He’s gonna be okay. He just has low blood sugar, he just needs a glucagon shot.”

He thinks you’re on edge because of the man, and while you are worried about him, you know that Eddie knows what to do, that he’d be able to help him.

You both make your way back to the aisle you were in when you heard the scream and bring your cart up to the front in silence, neither of you remembering that you still have a few more groceries to get.

When you’re finally out of the store and the groceries are in his car, you check around you, smirking to yourself when you see no one in sight. You’re lucky that Eddie parks so far away from the doors; not wanting to risk anyone hitting his car and damaging the paint. You definitely don’t want anyone to see this.

Your lips are on his in an instant, your hands cupping his face as you push him back a step so his back hits the side of his truck. He hums in surprise, then melts into the kiss, raising one hand to your jaw while the other holds you by the waist.

“That was so hot.” you whisper against his lips, your kiss growing sloppy and needy. He chuckles against your lips, then slips his tongue past your lips to explore your mouth, savouring your taste. You can feel his facial hair along your skin, and it makes you shiver. He was right about that stupid comb. His mustache is extremely soft, with just the right amount of scratchiness that makes your head spin.

“Yeah?” he asks in a cocky tone against your lips, barely registering that you’re practically throwing yourself at him in the middle of the grocery store parking lot. You hum softly, nodding as much as you can with your lips glued to his.

The only thing that snaps him out of his daze is your hands moving down to his belt. He pulls back, chest heaving as he looks into your hooded eyes, pupils blown and full of lust.

“I think we should get home before we get arrested.” he teases you softly, and although you know he’s right, the thought of having to wait makes you whine softly.

You part from him reluctantly, then get into the passenger seat while Eddie returns the cart. When he’s back in the car and on the way back to your place, you reach over and place a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his pants.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks lowly, a playful smirk on his face as he glances over at you, his eyes narrowed. You shrug, humming softly as you drag your nails up and down the fabric of his jeans.

He’s about to respond when you move your hand directly over his cock, growing harder with each passing moment. A strangled gasp escapes his throat, and his grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles white as you slowly palm him through his jeans.

“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?” he asks, his breathing growing more ragged and his tone changing to one of warning. You bite your lip, a small smile peeking out as you add more pressure, moving your palm against him achingly slowly.

“Just wanna show you how much I love you.” you reply sweetly. He knows he shouldn’t be letting you do this, he has to get you both home safely, but he can’t seem to say the words, or pull your hand away. You know exactly what to do to get him worked up, and right now, he’s cursing that fact.

He lets out a low groan when you reach your other hand over the centre console, now working on undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. He keeps his eyes glued to the road, his grip on the wheel as tight as it can be as you pull out his leaking cock. 

You spit into your hand before you grip the base of his cock, pumping him a few times as you watch the way his face twists in pleasure. You can tell he’s torn between wanting you to continue, and knowing you shouldn’t, and that’s what makes it fun. 

He shivers when you ghost your thumb over the tip of his cock, then increase the pace of your movements, pumping him in a way that makes him sure that he won’t be able to stop you even if he tries.

“You think I can get you to cum before we get home?” you ask in a teasing tone, a hint of condescension in your voice that has him fighting hard to keep his eyes open and on the road.

“I know you can.” he mumbles, and you laugh softly, keeping up the pace as you look down at his leaking cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight, and after a few more pumps, you unbuckle your seatbelt with the other hand, then lean over the centre console and bring the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him greedily. 

He lets out a shuddered moan, and one of his hands comes down to rest on the back of your head. With your mouth and your hand on him, he’s sure he won’t last much longer, especially when the possibility of being caught is looming in the back of his mind.

You hum softly as you taste the bit of precum on your tongue, and he lets out a quiet growl as the vibrations shoot up his spine. He can feel his balls tighten as you take more of him into your mouth, switching between moving further down his cock and giving the tip of his cock soft licks. 

As he pulls onto your street, he cums hard with no warning, making you gag slightly around him as you try to catch all of your release in your mouth. You slow the movements of your hand as you swallow his load, and when you’re sure you’ve gotten it all, you sit back up, a big grin on your face. 

When he finally parks in your driveway, he looks over at you in a daze, a smirk on his face as he takes in your puffy lips. He reaches over with one hand and wipes off a bit of his cum on your chin, then raises his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth eagerly, licking his thumb clean before you smile again, and he feels his heart hammering in his chest at the sight.

“Told you that was hot.” you tell him, and he chuckles, shaking his head at how proud of yourself you look. And for good reason.

“Almost as hot as that was.” he replies with a cocky smirk, and you lick your lips, feeling the desire pooling between your legs growing with each passing moment. 

“I think we should skip dinner tonight.” Eddie says after a moment of just you two staring at each other. 

Once he’s tucked himself back into his pants, you’re both out of the car in an instant, groceries long forgotten as you both make your way inside, trying and failing to keep your hands to yourself until you’re behind closed doors. 

When you finally get inside, Eddie has you against the wall, pressing hot kisses to your neck as he works to unbutton your jeans. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” he whispers against your neck, the hairs of his mustache tickling you as he gives your jeans a firm tug. 

When you finally make it to the bed, you feel overwhelmed with his touch, and his kisses, and his praise, and you’re silently thanking anyone that will listen for making him grow that mustache, stupid comb and all.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[httpsleclerc]

the story of us - 6

Pairing/s: Charles Leclerc x Single Mom!Verstappen!Reader, Charles Leclerc x Romy Verstappen (baby!oc), Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader, Kelly Piquet x Verstappen!Reader (Platonic)

c/w: vomiting, morning sickness, pregnancy, nothing else I believe?

w/c: 2.5k

previous chapter // series masterlist

The warm breeze coming in from the open balcony doors carried the scent of the sea, soft and familiar. Monaco had started to feel like home, in a way you never expected it to. Romy was sprawled across your lap, giggling at the cartoon dancing across the TV screen while your fingers absentmindedly played with her curls. She was getting bigger every day—more words, more personality, more of Charles' mannerisms than you'd care to admit. Max hadn't been entirely supportive of your idea of moving in with Charles, he thought it was too soon, you had only officially been together for two months, and he thought that Charles would need some time to adjust to living with Romy.

It had been almost two months since Max found out about you and Charles. You still remembered the tension in the air, the weight in your chest as you waited for the inevitable fallout. But Max hadn't shouted. He hadn't stormed out or demanded you break things off. He just looked at Charles for a long, long time and said, "You hurt either of them, and I put you in the wall, Leclerc. Understood?"

And Charles hadn't. Not even close.

He loved Romy. He loved you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—you could love him back without being afraid. Without being afraid of being too much, being yourself, or more likely, being  afraid of him.

Still, the nausea that had hit you this morning made your chest tighten. Charles had noticed this morning, but you waved it off, telling him that you were fine - Plus, he had been hovering over you lately, noticing just how off you had been feeling; you almost wanted him out of the house, pushing him to go out to lunch with his mother and brothers so you could just have some you time.

You'd blamed it on leftover stress. Or bad takeout. Or a stomach bug Romy might've picked up at the playground. But now the dizziness was creeping back, like a slow wave rolling over your senses. You blinked and steadied yourself with a hand on the armrest as you sat up. Gently moving Romy off of your lap, smoothing her curls as you tried to ground yourself, her blue eyes looking up at you, concern written across her tiny little face.

You felt... off.

Your fingers drifted to your stomach without thinking.

No.

No, you knew this feeling. The heaviness. The tightness in your chest. The way your body felt different in a way you couldn't explain but instinctively recognized.

It couldn't be.

You swallowed hard, trying to quiet the racing thoughts. Romy clapped and giggled beside you, completely unaware, her tiny hands reaching for yours.

And suddenly, you were hit with a rush of emotion so strong it stole your breath—fear, joy, disbelief, all tangled up and crashing into each other. A part of you wanted to run to Charles immediately. Another part needed a moment to breathe, to figure it out on your own before saying the words out loud.

No. It was too soon. You had only been together for 2 months. There was no way you could be pregnant, not again.

You glanced at the clock.

The pharmacy was still open.

You let out a deep breath before smiling down at your daughter, trying to ignore the tears bubbling in your eyes. You scooped Romy into your arms and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, her laughter still bubbling in your ears as your heart pounded beneath your skin.

You needed time. Just a night to breathe, to figure it out—privately. 

You grabbed your phone, thumb hovering for a second before tapping Kelly's name. She picked up after two rings, her voice warm as ever.

"Y/N? Everything okay?" She held the tone of a concerned older sister, which in all honesty, over the past couple months, was what she had become to you.

You hesitated. "Yeah—well, not really. Um, I've just been feeling a little off today. Dizzy, nauseous, kinda exhausted. I think I might be coming down with something."

Kelly's voice softened instantly. "Do you need anything?" She sounded like she wanted to ask you the question which you were currently dreading hearing from absolutely anyone.

"Actually... I was wondering if you and Max could take Romy tonight? Just so I can rest. I hate asking last minute, but—"

"Of course," she cut in. "Max will come with me. We'll be there in twenty."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. "Thank you. Really."

Twenty-five minutes later, you stood in the doorway, Romy bundled up and excited to go with her "Unca Max" and "Auntie Kelly." Max raised an eyebrow, scanning your face like he always did when he suspected something was off.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, voice low but laced with concern. 

You nodded, almost too quickly for your older brother's liking. "Just tired. Probably a stomach bug or something."

Max didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't press. Kelly gave you a gentle hug before heading back to the car with Romy on her hip.

You closed the door as calmly as possible, waited five full seconds, then grabbed your keys and made a beeline for the pharmacy.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you stood frozen in the family planning aisle, staring down at the wall of pregnancy tests like they were judging you, the logos on the boxes staring you down, the positive signs on the boxes taunting you.

Cheap ones. Fancy ones. Early-result ones. Digital ones with little smiley faces. So many brands you'd never heard of. You hesitated, then grabbed all of them. Literally. One of each. You were sure that it would come to at least 100 euros, but at this point, you didn't care - You needed to know either way.

The cashier at the checkout didn't say anything, bless him. He just blinked at the pile and started scanning with the efficiency of someone who'd seen weirder. You smiled politely, your heart beating so hard you were sure it was about to start hammering out of your chest. He smiled back at you awkwardly.

"You really wanna make sure, huh?" He said awkwardly, almost making you giggle. You laughed nervously and nodded, looking around to make sure that no one you knew was here - Especially Lukas. He was a constant fear for you, you were always cautious that he was around, despite the fact that Max had been in contact with lawyers to get a restraining order against your ex. "That comes out to..70.99..Cash or credit?" 

You couldn't get to your wallet quick enough, handing him 75 and all but running out of the pharmacy. You practically sprinted home, tore the tests open like they were evidence in a crime scene, and lined them up on the bathroom counter like tiny soldiers preparing for battle. 

And you best bet that you took every. single. one.

Sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, you thought of either outcome. If you were pregnant, would Charles leave you? would he want you to keep the baby? would he be happy? mad? tell you to leave? If you weren't pregnant, were you sure that you would be disappointed, or would you be relieved?

The alarm you had set on your phone started ringing, along with your phone vibrating on the floor beside you. Letting out a deep breath, you stood up to turn the small, plastic sticks over.

You didn't even need to look twice.

Positive. Positive. Positive. All of them.

You stood up, moving to yours and Charles' shared bedroom, shock settling in your bones. You sat on the edge of the bed, your phone clutched tightly in your hand, but you couldn't bring yourself to open it.

The pregnancy tests still sat in the bathroom, a stark white-and-pink army of truth lined up like they were mocking you.

You were pregnant. Again.

And for a while, you'd let yourself feel that first flicker of joy, let it bloom in the quiet - You were the only one who currently knew about the little baby growing inside of you. But now the joy was drowning beneath a tidal wave of fear.

This was too soon.

You and Charles had only just begun. Barely two months since telling Max. Barely two months of peace after years of chaos. This wasn't supposed to happen yet—not until you'd figured out how to let yourself be happy without looking over your shoulder. Not until Romy had more time with Charles. Not until you'd healed.

What if this was too much, too fast?

You chewed at your bottom lip, your heart pounding like it wanted to break out of your chest. What if he panicked? What if he only thought he was ready, but deep down he wasn't? You knew what it looked like when someone said all the right things but didn't really mean them. You'd lived it.

What if you lost him?

You curled into yourself, clutching a pillow to your chest. You wanted him. Needed him. But you were terrified of breaking the very thing you'd just started to build. The dam behind your eyes burst as you started bawling, overcome with so many emotions, unfortunately, most of them negative. 

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

Meanwhile, just across town, Charles leaned back in his chair at his mother's kitchen table, laughing softly at something Arthur had said. The sunlight poured in through the wide windows, glinting off the glasses of iced coffee and the remnants of lunch.

Pascale smiled fondly as she topped off Lorenzo's drink, then looked at Charles. "You seem happy lately," she said, her tone casual but warm.

"I am," he replied, and the answer came so easily it surprised even him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Because of Y/N?"

Charles didn't even try to hide the grin that tugged at his lips. "Yeah. Because of her. And Romy."

Pascale leaned in slightly, her mother-sense kicking in. "She's good to you."

"She's amazing," Charles said without hesitation. "And she's been through a lot. She's strong—really strong—but still soft with Romy. I've never seen someone do both like that."

Lorenzo exchanged a knowing look with Pascale as Charles went on, unaware of how freely his heart was pouring out.

"She's an incredible mum," he added quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself now. "Watching her with Romy... I don't know. It just makes me think."

"Think about what?" Arthur asked with a smirk, clearly fishing.

Charles chuckled but didn't deny it. "That I'd be lucky to have a baby with her someday. I mean—not now, obviously," he said quickly, glancing at his mother. "But yeah. One day. I'd want that."

Pascale reached over and gently squeezed his hand, her eyes kind. "You'd be a wonderful father, Charles. When it's time, you'll know."

But back at home, you didn't know.

You were still staring at the phone, wondering if now was the time. If he'd come home and you'd blurt it out. Or if you'd stay quiet a little longer, just to have one more day of pretending everything was still simple.

Because no matter how loving Charles had been, how gentle or patient, no matter how many times he'd told you that he loved both of you... there was still that broken, battered part of you that didn't fully believe someone could love your mess and not eventually walk away.

And now... you were carrying a secret that could change everything. After sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, you heard the front door click open before you saw him. Keys jingling. A soft thud as his shoes hit the mat. The rustle of a paper bag — probably the pastries he always brought when he visited his mum. You didn't move from the edge of the bed, legs curled beneath you, heart hammering in your chest like it had something urgent to say.

"Mon amour?" Charles called gently, voice echoing lightly through the flat.

You swallowed, throat tight. "In here."

He rounded the corner a second later, warm and golden in the soft evening light, cheeks still slightly flushed from the walk, curls messy from the breeze. He looked so happy. So light.

His face softened when he saw you, pale, almost like you had seen a ghost.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "Everything okay?"

You nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just... tired."

He leaned over to kiss your forehead, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. "Kelly said Romy was already asleep when I called. Max apparently let her run wild on the beach." You gave a small smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. Your fingers twisted in the edge of the duvet that lay beneath you. Charles noticed. Of course he did. He didn't push, though. He sat down beside you, close but not pressing, like he knew you needed space to come to him.

You stared ahead at nothing for a long beat.

"I was thinking about us today," he said softly, "When we were at Maman's."

Your heart squeezed, so tightly, you were thinking it was either going to burst, or stop entirely.

"Oh?" you managed to ask, voice small, scared that if you spoke too loud, your voice would break, and then he would know that something was wrong.

He nodded, smiling to himself. "She asked how I was. I told her the truth. That I'm happy. Really happy." He glanced at you, then looked down at his hands. "I said something else too. I... I told them how amazing you are. With Romy. With everything. How much I admire you."

You felt your throat tighten again, but this time for a different reason. Tears built behind your eyes, as you listened to Charles all but pour his heart out in front of you.

"I said I'd be lucky to have a baby with you one day," he added gently. "I meant it."

Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes welled with tears.

Charles blinked, startled by your sudden silence.

"Hey," he said quickly, turning toward you. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

You shook your head. "No—yes. I don't know. I just... I've been sitting here all day trying to figure out how to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Your voice broke as you finally said it. "I'm pregnant."

The words hung in the air, fragile and enormous.

Charles froze, eyes widening as the weight of it sank in.

You were already bracing yourself for the silence — the shock, the uncertainty, the questions. Maybe even fear.

But instead, he exhaled softly, blinking as if trying to catch up with his own thoughts. And then he did something you didn't expect.

He smiled.

"You're... sure?"

You gave a tiny, tearful laugh. "I took seven tests."

"Seven?"

"Maybe eight."

He let out a stunned breath, hand moving to your knee. "And they all said—?"

"Positive," you whispered.

He was quiet for a second more, and your heart clenched. You couldn't read his expression. He looked like he was on the edge of something huge.

Then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His voice was low, steady.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay. We're okay. You and me."

You clung to him, the tears finally spilling over. "It's so soon, Charles..."

"I know," he whispered into your hair. "But I don't care. I love you. I love Romy. And I already love this baby."

You didn't say anything — couldn't. You just held onto him like you were afraid to let go.

And maybe for the first time in your life, you didn't feel afraid of what was coming next.

You felt safe.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

a/n GUESS WHOS BAAAAAACK