#actually discussing the songs was so nice and fun

[batty4steddie]

Joe Keery discussing the meaning of Decide on Switched on Pop podcast.

[leaderwonim]

𓇻 I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME.

▸ PAIRING.. class president!yang jungwon x outcast!fem!reader

▸ SYNP. jang y/n hated yang jungwon. perfect, loved by everybody, class president yang jungwon. people only liked him because he was a man and he was charismatic. however, when she’s being picked on by the girls at school, yang jungwon comes to her rescue, and weirdly, she didn’t mind it?

▸ GENRE. enemies to lovers (it’s one sided though, yn just hates jw😭) angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of sexism, fluff

author’s note: this is based off of olivia rodrigo’s unreleased song! This was honestly so much fun to write and it took me about 3 days cause I fell violently ILL like the day after I started writing😭 As usual, REBLOGS and COMMENTS are so greatly appreciated <33

Jang Y/N was what people called an outcast. Although she was pretty and had the grades, she heavily disliked half of her class, which in turn, didn’t exactly make her very popular.

“I hate him.” She says as she shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung, who told her that she shouldn’t be so negative all the time.

“Who, Jungwon?” Wonyoung asks, frowning. “Yah Y/N, you can’t hate him forever. He’s nothing but nice to you.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbles angrily, putting away her lunch. “Wonyo, people only like him because he’s a man who can say a few charming words. He smiles and at least half of our class falls onto their knees or something.”

Wonyoung chokes at her sister’s comparison, and can’t help but let out a little laugh. “I’m just saying Y/nie, you can’t just despise him because he seems perfect to the naked eye. In fact, I say become friends with him. It’ll be good for you.”

Y/N shuts down the idea right away, much to Wonyoung’s dismay.

“I am just saying,” Wonyoung stands up, finished with her lunch. “I mean, don’t you find it sad? That you eat lunch everyday with your sister instead of eating with friends or a boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N says, frowning. “I like eating lunch with you Wonyo.”

“Hm, I guess.”

The Jang sisters lock arms, strolling to their next class. They miss the longing glance that Yang Jungwon sends towards Y/N’s direction, already too far gone into the Decelis Academy hallway.

‏‏‎ ‎

Unfortunately for Y/N, she had her leadership class with Jungwon, where they would discuss things like student politics and how to better the school so that Decelis could stay at its rightful place of number one on private academy rankings.

It was stupid, Y/N thought, Decelis shouldn’t even be close to number one, this school was filled with a bunch of spoilt children who were obsessed with the idea of money and power.

“Is there a problem, Miss. Jang?” The teacher asks, noticing the little scoffs she was adding each time Jungwon spoke about an initiative he wanted to add.

“No,” Y/N shrugs. “I just think Yang Jungwon’s new initiative is just a waste of time. It's not going to solve anything.”

Jungwon smirks, something that Y/N so desperately wants to wipe the floor with. “Y/N, always the critic of my ideas. Very well, let’s hear your brilliant solution.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course Yang Jungwon wanted to pretend to remain civil, if he had blown up on her, it would’ve tarnish his reputation, and Yang Jungwon would be nothing without his reputation, right?

“Instead of your one-size-fits-all approach method, we need personalized mentorship programs. Each student faces unique challenges, and your initiative doesn't address that.”

Jungwon smiles. “Well I suppose you’re right. But perhaps if you actually joined the initiative, you'd understand its effectiveness.”

Y/N grits her teeth, not enjoying how much Yang Jungwon was enjoying this. “Oh, right, because following the herd blindly is the key to success? Unlike half of Decelis’ population, I prefer independent thinking.”

The boy leans closer in, face almost touching the girl. “Sometimes collaboration is the key to progress, Y/N. Try it sometime.”

The two students make eye contact until Y/N breaks, finally pulling her eyes away.

“As usual, Yang Jungwon always has to be right.” She mumbles under her breath. “God, please save me from being in this class any longer,”

‏‏‎ ‎

Y/N throws her backpack on the floor as soon as she steps into her house, not caring about the expensive computer her grandmother had bought her last Christmas that was stuffed inside. Her parents were in the kitchen, discussing something in hushed whispers, almost as if it was top secret.

Always being the curious child, she leans onto the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, trying to make out what the topic was about.

“I’m just worried honey,” she can hear her mom say as her dad rubs her back comfortingly. “Y/N doesn’t have a lot of friends at that school, Wonyoung told me about it. You know she only hangs out with her sister and that’s it?”

“I mean, is it really that bad that she only hangs out with Wonyoung? She’s always been quiet, I think we’ve just got to respect that. She’s an excellent student anyway, there’s no harm in having little friends.”

Although her parents truly just wanted the best for her, Y/N felt like a complete loser by how they were going about it.

She quickly rushed to her room, biting her lip in annoyance at how everybody seemed to have an opinion about her life. She was happy with how it was going, and she didn’t care that her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung was a sweetheart and lived with her, it was a built in best friend for life.

“Just you wait,” Y/N huffs, sharpening her pencil. “I’m gonna go to university, leave this place, and I won’t have to hear about any of these kids ever again.”

‏‏‎

Y/N woke up the next day with a red eye, probably from crying last night despite telling herself she didn’t care.

She cared, a lot.

Romanticizing being alone was fun until she realized that she was truly all alone, with no friends to lean on.

“Is that Jang Y/N?”

Park Jiwon. The devil herself. She was evil as she was pretty, and she had no problem making Y/N’s life a living hell.

“Where’s Wonyoung? Did your own sister finally get tired of you?” Her little group of minions laugh as if it was the funniest thing ever, and Y/N tries and stops herself from giving them all a swing to the face.

“No, but I’m sure you’re used to that feeling, right Jiwon?”

“Oh you little b—”

“Jiwon, you can’t hit her! You’ll get suspended and it’ll go on your permanent record.” Her friend says, which makes the girl straighten up right away.

“You’re lucky Jang,” the girl snarls. “But yah, what were you thinking? Talking back to Jungwon? He’s so smart and handsome, dedicating his time to make initiatives for the school. You should be more grateful.”

She and her minions get so close that they practically push Y/N back onto the locker, suffocating her with their glares.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The voice of Jungwon doesn’t go unnoticed by a single girl, who, all but Y/N, straighten up their hair when they realize he’s behind them.

“We’re just talking, right Y/N?” Jiwon says, pinching onto the girl tightly.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Park Jiwon, don’t make me give you detention for picking on other students. It doesn’t make you attractive.”

The girl gasps, immediately letting Y/N go as her face heats up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“Just go.” With one point of a finger, Yang Jungwon got Park Jiwon and her minions out of the hallway, leaving Y/N and him alone.

“You okay?” He asks her, eyes concerned.

“Thank you,” she breathes out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows. “You were getting picked on.”

“Well, I’m not the nicest to you.” The girl says, suddenly embarrassed. “At all, actually. So thank you Jungwon, really.”

“Ah,” the boy smiles. “It’s nothing. I don’t hate you if that’s what you think, I think you have a brilliant mind just like me.”

And for the first time since she’s stepped into the school, Jang Y/N finds herself liking Yang Jungwon, and not just for his looks.

‏‏‎

“Y/N!” The loud voice of Yang Jungwon doesn’t go by Wonyoung, who gives her sister a smirk as she slightly pushes back her shoulder.

“Wonder why he’s coming,” she teases, which makes Y/N scrunch up her nose in annoyance.

“Would you like to come with me to this new bread place?” He asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Sorry—I ran all the way from the cabinet office to here.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N giggles, which makes Wonyoung’s eyes pop out of their sockets because she swears she never heard that sound coming from her sister’s mouth before. “I’d love to Jungwon.”

“Great! I’ll uh.. I’ll see you later!”

Wonyoung turns to face Y/N as soon as Jungwon leaves, giving her the biggest grin ever. “What was that?!”

“Let’s just say, I don’t hate Yang Jungwon anymore.” Y/N smiles, laughing as she watches Wonyoung’s jaw practically drop to the ground.

‏‏‎

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jungwon says as he and Y/N walk to the new bread place.

“Yes,” Y/N puffs out, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Before she knew it, Jungwon already takes off his jacket and wraps it around the girl’s shoulder.

“Jungwon,” she whines, “then you’ll be cold!”

“It’s alright really!” He laughs, giving her a big smile. “I’m practically invincible to cold. Was just asking because you seemed to be freezing.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I feel really guilty for trying to one up up all the time or prove you wrong. I just hate it, you know?”

“Hate what?”

“You might not realize it but a lot of people don’t want to hear what I say because I’m a woman, and that’s it. Just because I’m a woman. Like sometimes, I have ideas just as brilliant and changing as yours, but everybody says I’m complaining and over analyzing. When you say it, with your handsome face and clear voice, everybody’s suddenly entranced, and they’re so interested in school politics.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing back Jungwon slightly as he laughs.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. I know what you mean now. I’m sorry that I can’t change how people view and perceive things, but I want you to know that I listen to your ideas, that I care. You might not realize this either but whenever you’re talking, I always listen. Like your initiative about bringing better programs into the school, I listened through the whole thing because I just—I’m inlove with the way you articulate things and the way you speak. If I was half as good at speaking my mind like you were, I’d be unstoppable. You’re a great person, Y/N, and I’m so glad I’m able to see that.”

The way Yang Jungwon speaks about her makes Y/N want to cry and smother him in a hug, which she does a second later by bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you Jungwon.” She says, face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He feels like he’s out of breath by how close the two of them were, his heartbeat racing by each second that passed. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

‏‏‎

“Hey!” Y/N is practically used to seeing Yang Jungwon come up to her everyday now, the two even spending lunch together every two days.

“What’s up Yang?” She says, noticing a packet of papers in his hand.

“You know your feedback on my initiative? Your personalized mentorship program idea! The headmaster really liked it and he’s implementing it starting next semester with your name as the credit on it!”

Y/N’s eyes widen in joy, shrieking as her hands unconsciously come in contact with Jungwon’s, the two holding both of each other’s hands tightly as they jumped in happiness.

“You’re amazing Yang Jungwon!” She says giddily, “you really are.”

The two of them stop to stare at one another for a brief second before Jungwon finds himself leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

When they pull away, the smiles on their faces never fades, Jungwon’s dimple ever so prominent.

“I love you,” Y/N breathes out. “My wonderful class president.”

And although Y/N is a feminist, obviously, she wouldn’t mind a man like Yang Jungwon saving her, for he taught her what love was like, and that she should never ever settle for less.

[futureman]

the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

“Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

“A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[daisyblog]

Zane Lowe

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN is mentioned in Harry’s interview with Zane Lowe.

Based on this request.

“Nice nails” Zane compliments Harry who’s sitting in the seat opposite.

“Thanks” Harry politely replies as he glances down at his turquoise nails sitting on his lap. “Thanks for having me”.

After discussing Pleasing and he loved the idea of It, Zane asked “What made you want to do that?”.

“I think for me like…a big part of it is…like I really like making stuff and I really like..kind of coming up with ideas and collaborating with other…especially YN who again is very creative…I feel like I’m really lucky with people around me both personally and professionally that I get to work with are really fun to work with and…you know working’s like my favourite thing to do so..based on the fact that I think obviously it begins as a hobby so then like getting to make stuff for work I feel like is a real gift. I think if I didn’t think about it too much I would be making music and putting out music constantly…but I’m also aware that I’m a total control freak and I want everything to be perfect..so the idea of like oh I made these four songs I’m just going to put out an EP…It’s just not how I think of it”.

---

“You're faced with a time when you can’t do that…and the great leveller of like it doesn’t matter how much money you have, doesn’t matter where you live, doesn’t matter this doesn’t matter that…you can’t travel you can’t do this, you can’t go outside your house..It’s like suddenly you’re forced to not be this musician guy, you’re forced to be like a boyfriend, brother and a son…and all of those things..and actually I feel like I..you know kind of had a little bit of a chance to focus on that at least for a moment..umm and just stop and kind of take in a lot of stuff and…remember things, you’re kind of gifted this stolen time” Harry explained his view on the world pandemic.

“You mentioned being all these roles…you mentioned being a boyfriend, what was it like during these times?” Zane quizzed. “Because I imagine you got a taste of what it’s like being a “normal” couple”.

Twisting and playing with his rings on his fingers, Harry explains “Umm…YN has always been my comfort you know and I’d like to think I’m hers too…she’s been a big part of my life and…we’ve been through so much tougher…that it was kind of nice to just stop and take that in.” Zane nodded, an indication for Harry to continue “So when the pandemic hit..we isolated in LA for a while..I saw it as a time for us to be just us…but YN did find it hard because she has such a big family…and umm she just wanted to be closer to them…especially her grandparents and siblings”.

“Yeah I can imagine that being hard..being so far away” Zane sympathised “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life but what do you mean by time for just you two?”

“Like..we’ve never known anything other than travelling..or just being surrounded by other people and just having to plan everything in so much detail..to like not be seen you know…so we kind of got to see what a normal like would be like, whatever a normal life is..if that makes sense?”. 

“Yeah it makes total sense”. Zane agreed and could see that Harry craved a little normality in his personal life. 

“I suppose..I’m just like really lucky..because YN just gets it. She got put into the limelight the same as us..you know..so yeah she just gets it and I’m just so lucky” Harry continued with a slight giggle as he repeated how lucky he was. “I think what I’m trying to say is…I hit gold when it came to YN…she really is my best friend too and yeah…it was nice to be just a couple without the added pressures.”. 

---

“We have to acknowledge this because..you know we at one point we were going to this in the United Kingdom”. Harry nodded in agreement “But there’s something wonderful about being in this afterglow of Palm Springs..which is I'm sure is how you feel a little bit after these two amazing headline shows…you seem so chilled you know” Zane laughed but continue “There must have been a relief that you did it?”.

“I just..you know I knew I was going to put something out…whether it’s a show or an album or a song I want it to be perfect..and umm…I think like that’s why I take so much stress on I think around something like Coachella..cause I feel like I want it to be good..like if it’s not going to be good I’d rather not do it..so you know in that kind of setting, no matter what it is kind of…you know the dust or the wind or however many things, it's like so many things can go wrong in that situation..and it's not your show and it's my first festival so…you know I’m kind of going out to the crowd and I like knowing what I’m stepping out to” Harry rambled with a nervous chuckle at the end.

Harry continued “and that was really terrifying”.

“What was your instinct when they asked you to do it?” Zane interrupted.

“That’s too scary and I’m gonna say no” Harry laughed “But..uh YN was like you need to say yes and was just so encouraging and supportive..you know…plus she’s like my biggest fan so of course she wanted me to do it!”. 

“So..would you say YN helps with the nerves?” Zane asked curiously.

“I was so nervous..like so nervous..and I remember YN being on facetime to Louis before the show..and them both saying just to be myself and to enjoy…and when I was out there I just focused on being me and nothing else”. Harry spoke freely. “Their advice definitely helped…’cause I had the best time!”. 

“Late Night Talking?” Zane stated.

Harry let out a shy chuckle “Uhh…yeah” Harry leans his head on his hand to try and hide is cheeky smile “It’s about YN…well I don’t think it’s a shock to anyone”.

“So…would you say the whole album is about YN?” Zane asked confidently.

“Uhh..most of it..yeah pretty much” Harry smiled “She’s just been a constant in my life..since like we were what..sixteen or seventeen..you know..she’s my life..and I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself around her you know…it’s just easy and I love that about our relationship.” Harry explained.

---

“Matilda really shows emotional intelligence and how you were thinking about someone at that time.”. Zane begins to talk about the middle song on Harry’s album. 

“Uh…yeah…I actually didn’t write Matilda”. Harry revealed, causing Zane to looked shocked. “YN had this conversation with someone…and she was getting to know them…and they opened up to her and she was like that’s not normal…so she was almost like writing down what she wanted to say to them…and I was like how many people could relate to this you know…and we agreed that it would make a beautiful song for those who needed to hear it”.

“Waw! It holds a real powerful message and I think even if people don’t feel those things…I think it definitely makes them feel something.”. Zane spoke with passion in his voice. 

“It definitely does….and it was just about saying I was listening….that was YN’s purpose to it”. 

---

“Boyfriends” Zane began “It is a great song..It’s from a male perspective, it’s a very knowing song..and It’s a very self-aware song..you have to have some self-awareness to write from that perspective surely”.

Harry answered immediately “Yeah for sure…Boyfriends was written right at the end of Fine Line” Harry explained “Boyfriends is about like…we’re all flawed you know..and I think pretending like we’re not, I just don’t get it..It’s acknowledging my own behaviour, it’s looking at the behaviour I’ve witnessed..I grew up with a sister so it’s like watching her date people and watching friends…but at the same time admitting I’ve not been a perfect boyfriend either”.

---

“Love of My Life..I’d always wanted to write a song about like home and loving England…and all of that kind of stuff..and it’s kind of hard to do that you know”

“So Love of Love My Life is about home and England?” Zane asked with a slight smirk on his face.

“As I started making them album…I realised it wasn’t about the kind of geographical location…it was more of an internal thing” Harry tried to hide his bashful smile by rubbing his finger under his nose.

“Do I see Harry Styles blushing?” Zane began to tease Harry.

Harry lets out a loud chuckle and tries to hide his face in his hands “You know..I’ll admit that I blush sometimes…especially when it comes to YN!”. 

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

[potlattice]

Roots Before Branches (Rafe Cameron x reader)

Rafe Cameron x reader

Family day at the beach and Rafe is stressssssed-

***not based on the song

You enjoyed the gentle sea breeze as it gave you a break from the sweltering heat of the Outer Banks sun.

Rafe on the other hand found it inciting.

"It's blowing sand into her eyes!" He complained with a sharp glare towards the sea.

He was in a bad mood since Sarah had shown up to the beach with her friends to show them her baby niece. It wasn't a coincidence his heated glare was pointed in the direction the Pogues had taken up surfing.

"She's okay." You said, pointing to her little sunglasses. She also had on a bucket hat for good measure. "Did you want to swap seats?"

Whilst you lounged in the sun on a towel, Rafe sat under the umbrella in a beach chair beside you. Bea sat on his lap holding a red plastic spade. You wondered when he'd set her down so she can actually play with it...

He shook his head and kept his gaze on the sea.

"How about we build some sand castles?"

"The sand's too hot for her." Rafe shook his head again, taking a sip of his beer with a sigh.

You didn't grow up with a beach and wanted your daughter to enjoy every minute of the seaside whilst you were here for the summer.

"So we'll play by the shore." You said, standing up and brushing off the sand from your hands. "I could do with cooling down."

"But the water-"

"Is fine Rafe." You cut off before he could find another problem. You placed a quick kiss on his cheek. You loved that he was a protective person by nature, but you also missed the fun, care-free side to him from when you first met.

"Race you there."

"Wait-"

You didn't wait and ran for the water, wincing at the heat beneath your feet. You hated when he was right...

"You call that running?" He asked, jogging past you with a smiling baby.

Rafe waited for you at the shore as you caught your breath, quickly dipping your feet in the water as they burned.

"I had sand in my eyes." You excused with a shrug. He rolled his eyes but pulled you into his chest regardless.

"You were right." He said into your hair and you pulled back to look at him. "The water's a nice break from the heat. She'll love it."

He adjusted his grip on Bea and held her just slightly above the water, where it came to just below your knees and the tops of his ankles. Her toes skimmed the blue water and she immediately lifted her legs into her chest with a whine.

"Oh." You commented with surprise. "I guess she's not much of a water baby then."

"What?" Rafe said with a frown and looked down at his daughter as she actively avoided touching the water. "No she is." He insisted.

He lowered her a little more and she whimpered as a small wave splashed her legs.

"Oh dear." You recognised that pouty lip and grimaced as it wobbled before turning into a cry.

"Shit." He said, pulling her into his chest as she sobbed.

"She's a city girl." You laughed, holding onto your baby's foot and feeling the soft bottoms as she calmed down. "Aren't you?"

Rafe scowled. "She loves the bath. I thought she'd be happy here."

"She is happy here." You disputed with a frown.

"Clearly not." He said, visibly agitated with the situation.

You put your hands on your hips as you stared at the both of them. They shared the same unhappy frown. "She'll get used to it."

"I don't want to put her in the water if she doesn't like it." He snapped at you. "And there's no point living here if she doesn't like it." Rafe stormed out of the water and back to umbrella as Bea began to cry again.

You watched him leave with a narrowed gaze. His words settled in your mind and you speculated that the discussions of where Bea should grow up were grating on him.

As much as he wanted to move back home to Kildare, you put forward the point that you didn't have the money to live on Figure 8 and it's tormented him ever since.

You felt guilty at putting the cloudy thought in his mind. It wouldn't have bothered you, but it certainly bothered him to live as a 'would be Pogue'. If only he could see it in a different light...

"Hey, yo!" A voice called out from behind you. "Are you joining us, city girl?"

The figures of Sarah's friends were dotted in the water. A few on surf boards, including the Cameron girl herself.

"Yeah! Y/N come join me on my board!" She suggested with a wave.

You cast a glance back to shore. The rainbow umbrella was visible from here. Maybe seeing you have fun in the water with the Pogues would prompt Rafe to see they weren't so bad, or maybe he'd even join you himself.

"Just for a bit." You said, swimming over. You weren't the strongest swimmer but with Kiara's help, you were pulled onto the board and settled in front of Sarah.

You were in the water for about thirty minutes, most of which were spent laughing as the boy's wrestled in the water for a place on one of the surf boards. Or watching JJ wipe-out when he tried to surf as the waves on this side of the island were apparently not suited for surfing.

Sarah paddled around until Pope tipped you two off the board and you took it as your chance to head back to the umbrella, knowing you had two very grumpy baby's waiting for you...

You collapsed onto your towel with a tired huff.

It seems like you weren't the only tired one as Rafe had laid out a towel under the umbrella and lay on his side, blue eyes watching as your baby sat up on her own and played with wet sand. He must have collected it with her bucket.

"Thank you, sweetpea." You said as Bea passed you a chubby handful of the dark sand. She smiled at you from behind her pacifier and you bit your tongue, not wanting to argue with Rafe even though you'd spoken about stopping her using one.

"It stopped her from eating the sand." He voiced quietly, also accepting a handful of sand. Although he didn't manage much of a smile. "She's sitting up on her own." He noted.

You nodded. "She's growing up fast."

He didn't like the sound of that and shut his eyes, turning to lay on his back. Bea didn't mind and started piling sand on his chest.

But you didn't want him to remain in a glum state and knew you had to do something to lighten up his mood. The dilemma of your baby growing so fast, and the struggle to provide a stable place to raise her was causing a stress in your lives.

A frat house was no place for Bea to take her first steps, and now that you had both graduated, it was time to make your roots in the world your daughter would grow up in...

You stared at the ocean and then smiled.

"If you're anything like me, you'll give it one more try." You mumbled to your daughter, lifting her into your arms with a heave and standing up.

"What are you doing?" Rafe asked, sitting up in a panic.

"I'm trying again." You said with a shrug and he followed after you with protests as you hurried to the water.

But this time, you went deeper until it was at your hips before you called Sarah over.

She immediately spotted the two of you and paddled over. "Does bumblebee want a spot on the board?" She asked with a smile for the little girl.

"No, absolutely not." Rafe interrupted, coming up behind you, placing firm hands on your waist to help give you stability in the water.

"Rafe I've got her." You assured him, as Sarah hopped off her paddle board and held it still.

He said nothing but you felt him squeeze you in fear as you sat Bea gently on the wet board, not letting go of her as the water gently rocked it.

She looked at her father with watery eyes, her bottom lip sticking out and her arms flapping in protest as you and Sarah reassured her.

"Is that fun?" Sarah asked with a coo.

The other Pogues gathered round in interest as the baby sat on the board with a sad pout.

"Aww, she's not sure about the water." Kie pointed out with a sad smile.

"Here, this'll help." JJ said, using his fingers to flick some water at the baby and you froze as you waited for not only Bea's reaction, but Rafe's.

"You little fucker-"

He was cut off by his daughter's giggle.

"She loves it!" You cheered as she slapped her hand in the water and made a few splashes. It hit your chest and she laughed again.

JJ breathed a sigh of relief. "You see, I knew it'd work."

"Shut up." Rafe mumbled but splashed Bea with a flick of water against her leg anyway. He smiled as she laughed like she found it the funniest thing in the world, her big head titled back and everything.

"We're gonna go to the beach all the time!" Sarah celebrated, pressing a kiss against Bea's wet cheek.

You turned your head over your shoulder to look up at Rafe, trying to gauge his reaction to his sister's words. As if he read your thoughts, he stared down at you and smiled.

"Topper, Molly and Kelce won't be happy to find new roommates..."

"They'll just have to move here. Like us." You suggested and turned to face your happy baby again as he laughed at your words and lay a kiss on your shoulder.

"I love you."

You watched contently with Rafe pressed warmly against your back, as Sarah and Bea splashed John B playfully and he tried with little effort to splash them back.

You will uproot the life you started together in the city and move your family here, a place for your family tree to grow in the sun and by the water.

y'allll, i don't thrive under pressure and i didn't expect such a positive reaction to my stories... my writing abilities and moods fluctuate as im bipolar as fuck so i fear living up to expectations but here's a nugget of my appreciation for the love 🫶

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 7

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

It was the sleepover you never had. Although there was no pillow fights and a little too much Tom Cruise, you had the best time you've had in a while. "God you sound like Billy." Sydney laid back in her bed toying with her hair nervously. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be hateful. It's not just scary movies either, you haven't seen any classics?" Tatum snickered throwing her stuffed animal in the air, catching it as it fell back down. "Well you haven't seen any new movies. It's like for the past 6 years you've been locked in grandmas basement."

"Maybe you're right." You sat on the floor organizing your bag. "Do you have any songs or movies you like that your dad or someone else in your family doesn't like?" Sydney asked genuinely curious. You thought about it for a second but your silence answered the question for them. "You've been totally brainwashed babe." Tatum quipped in a way that made you feel a little ashamed. "Y/n there's nothing wrong with liking the things you do, but you should be doing it because you like it and not because someone else does."

"Yeah you need to take notes from Syd here. She is thee feminist. Billy and her have been dating for over a year and she still hasn't slept with him." The brown haired girl looked upset at her friend's honesty. "What'd I say wrong? I wish I could do what you do. I know If I left Stu to his own devices he would just find someone else to help him out." You looked to the floor ready to throw up at a moments notice. That's what this was. You weren't special. Billy took an interest in you because he thought you would put out unlike his girlfriend. "Y/n?"

"I should break up with my boyfriend." You said flatly, all the moisture from your mouth disappeared at the realization. "Huh?" Sydney asked confused by the switch up but Tatum however was your number one cheerleader. "Hell yeah kick that bastard to the curb! What did he do?" Dylan wasn't even that good of a boyfriend back home you weren't sure why he wanted to keep things long distance. This whole discussion though made you want to change some things. "He still lives back home and I just really want to start over now."

You rang up your boyfriend and called it quits. The yelling on the phone was a surprise but Tatum quickly took the phone from you saying something you weren't really sure you were allowed to repeat. Sleeping in a house that wasn't your's was hard especially when you kept thinking about the two men you knew a little too well. Sunday morning was a blur, it consisted of cereal, the news going on about the murders, and school gossip. Eventually you and the girls made it back to Tatum bedroom.

"Hello you must be Y/n." The cop held out his hand for you to shake, which you did. "I'm Dewy." He said. His awkward presence was somehow comforting. "Ew dipshit don't flirt with my friends." Tatum complained making Sydney crack a smile. Red sprinkled his cheeks as he tried to defend himself. "You're fine. It's nice to meet you, Dewy. So you're a cop?" You point to the badge just trying to make conversation. "Here we go." Tatum whispered and Dewy smiled. "I'm actually a deputy." He tapped his badge with pride.

"He's just like Arnold Schwarzenegger... In kindergarten cop." Tatum made fun of him again almost making you crack a smile. "I think it's cool." He looked over at Sydney noticing her quietness. "How are you Syd?" She nodded with a fake smile. "Yesterday was hard so today has to be better." Dewy nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandparents." Tatum's brother looked at you as he spoke. The word "grandparents" made you look up. "Oh um... Thanks." You weren't quite sure what the appropriate response to that was. "I'm going to use the bathroom." You excused yourself leaving the three of them together.

"Why would you bring that up?" Tatum scolded. "What happened to her grandparents?" Sydney asked. Dewy leaned on the door frame looking down the hallway making sure you were out of ear shot. "They committed suicide together. Both of them took a handful of sleeping pills, and she found them." The two girls felt bad hearing the information. Tatum remembered a commotion happening at the house down the street but she never knew what exactly had happened. Just that you moved in shortly after.

You walked back to the bedroom once you dried your face off from the water you threw onto your skin. "Well I've got to get going. Do you girls need anything?" He asked and everyone said no. Dewy left with a wave shutting the door behind him. "Sorry he's not very socially aware." Tatum apologized but you just nodded. "It's fine. Really." They didn't believe you but they dropped the discussion anyhow.

The day went on with Tatum doing your nails and trying on half the clothes you brought over. You offered Sydney to join in but she declined. Later on you and Sydney talked about what books you had read which Tatum was not interested in at all. It was much harder keeping them two entertained than it was with Billy and Stu. There didn't seem to be much common ground between the girls. You slept much easier than the night previous. Maybe you were finally settling in.

"Wake up girls." Tatum's mom beat on the door making everyone but Tatum jump up. You groaned as Sydney went to wake up her friend. You pulled a pair of bell-bottoms from your bag along with an old band shirt. It wasn't what you'd normally wear to school but you didn't have the time nor energy to doll yourself up. "I like the grunge look on you." You felt partially offended by Tatum's compliment because there was nothing "grunge" about your look. The outfit consisted of jeans, a shirt, no makeup, paired with hair you hadn't had the chance to fix.

"You look comfortable." Sydney chirped meaning well. Their back handed compliments made you want to crawl in a hole. You sat down with the girls in the kitchen, quickly eating breakfast before Dewy came to take you to school. You offered to just get your car but Dewy refused saying he was fine to drive. The thought about skipping the day completely had crossed your mind multiple times.

The moment the car stopped at school you said goodbye to your friends. "I've got to go grab some things from my locker I'll catch you at lunch." You didn't give them time to protest. Unfortunately for you Stu was at your locker waiting patiently for your appearance. "Yo Betty Crock- Pants?" You weren't in the mood for either one of their antics. "You look lovely today." He said like a kid with a crush. Stu swayed back and forth on his heels waiting for you to acknowledge his existence. "Did I do something wrong?" You slammed your locker shut making him jump.

"I'll take that as a yes." You turned to walk away but it never did any good with Stu. "I can't fix this if you don't tell me what's wrong." You stopped, looking at him with tears stinging your eyes. "We can't do this Stu." You pulled him to the side out of everyone's way. "You and Billy are my friends." The emphasis on friends made his heart shrink a little. "I would hope so after everything-" He tried to crack a joke to make you laugh but he didn't realize you felt like the joke was on you. "Would you just listen!" You cut him off grabbing the attention of some bystanders. You waited a moment for people to pass by before speaking.

"This cannot happen. Me, you, and Billy, can no longer happen. No more hanging out at my place, no more ambushing me in public bathrooms," He smiled at that not being able to take a single thing seriously. "No more hanging around at my locker. Tatum and Sydney are sweet girls who don't deserve what we did to them. As long as they are in the picture I'm not going to be, understand?" The bottom line was you weren't a plaything and you weren't a homewrecker. Stu however took it the way he wanted to.

"I understand. I'm sorry if we overstepped." You were ready for him to get on one knee and embarrass you into forgiving him. This was a nice change. "Thank you Stu." He smiled. "Will you still hang with us at lunch?" Damnit. "No Stu, I won't. I've got to make new friends. Since day one all I've known is you and Billy. And now that I've gotten to know Sydney and Tatum, I realized I need my own thing." The bell rung ending the conversation prematurely. "See ya Stu."

"Shit, Shit, Shit," Stu repeated the word over and over like a small prayer. He walked the halls quickly finding Billy's first period class. Stu waved like a mad man trying to get his friend's attention through the window. "May I go to the bathroom?" Billy asked already getting up from his seat. "You may Mr. Loomis." The boy wasn't too happy with the sudden distraction. "This better be good." Billy started walking towards the bathroom with Stu in tow.

"Y/n is dropping us." Billy stopped in his tracks at the confession. Calmly he took a breath saving his anger for a secluded spot. He picked of his feet once again heading towards the restroom. Stu was terrified not only of losing you but also of his friends short fuse. The moment the bathroom door was locked he exploded. "What the fuck do you mean?" Billy cursed as he pushed open each stall checking for anyone. "She said it was wrong what we were doing to Tatum and Syd and as long as they were in the picture she wasn't going to be." Billy grabbed Stu's shirt by the collar. "This shit wouldn't have happened if you didn't call Sydney the other night."

He pushed his friend backwards letting Stu's back hit the wall. "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it man?" Billy didn't believe him. Stu was always doing something he shouldn't be. "We'll go back to our plan. Do everything exactly the same way just a little later than we hoped." Billy breathed out thinking of how to pull this off. "Syd's mom's anniversary was Saturday."

"You think I don't know that dipshit?" He pointed in Stu's face. Running his hands through his hair he tried to calm down. "Neil killed Casey and Steve on Wednesday night. That's when he told Syd he was leaving town." Stu just nodded along listening to Billy. "With all the publicity of the murders he wasn't able to kill anyone's else so he calls his daughter Friday night."

"How does he know she's with Tatum?" Billy paced back and forth. "Neil's been stalking her because she's his next victim. He sees Syd leave his house with Tatum. Anyway he scares the shit out of his daughter Friday night laying low till Monday. Ghostface will make a guest appearance today to meet Syd. Himbry will have to close shop because of the killer. You'll tell everyone you're throwing a party to celebrate the break. Invite Syd and Tatum since Y/n is such good friends with them now she'll have to go with them."

It was like watching a genius at work. Stu really believed Billy could pull it off. "Neil kills Himbry. They went to school together back in the day it could be old revenge. At the party I'll take care of Tatum first but you'll have to send her to the garage and make sure no one goes with her." Billy looked at Stu waiting for him to promise to do his job. "Yes Sir." Billy looked at his boots piecing together the rest of the puzzle. "Neil kills Tatum after that I show up to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend. I'll take Syd up to your room that's where you'll have to "kill" me. You'll grab Sydney and bring her to the kitchen. We'll reveal everything blow her daddy's brains out and then Syd is the cherry on top of a really fucked up cake."

It was a good plan in Stu's eyes. "Where does that leave Y/n?" Billy smiled "She's going to rescue us. Neil's dead and so is his daughter. We've been stabbed left for dead but poor Y/n comes along and calls the cops helping us live to see another day. All we have to do is hit her hard enough to keep her out for awhile. Which means before I show up late I'll need you to get her alone in a room. I'll show up dressed in black and knock her unconscious. You'll go back to the party and I'll show up fashionably late."

"I could kiss you." Stu said happily throwing out his arms. "Don't make me stab you early." Billy threatened. Stu's smile dropped. "Now I'm going back to class I'll see Syd later today just keep being your bubbly self. You got that?" Stu nodded happy everything was going to work out after all.

"It was just some sick fuck having a laugh." Tatum tried to convince Sydney. "She's right Syd I mean those assholes were running up and down the hallways with masks." Sydney shook her head at you sure of what she saw. "It was him. I know it." You walked down the steps right next to your friends. "From now on you are not to be alone. You pee, I pee." Tatum added. Stu ran up spouting some gibberish giving you and the girls a flower. "Darling, I don't know what you did Sydney but on behalf of the entire student body we say thank you!"

Tatum tapped her boyfriend with the flower. "Stop it Stu." She gritted trying to tone down his behavior. "You know I say," He picked Tatum up throwing her over his shoulder. The very cute display made you advert your eyes. You didn't know why you were upset this is exactly what you asked him to do. But it still somehow felt he was going out of his way to upset you.

"Impromptu party tonight, my house. To celebrate this little scare storm, what do ya say?" You and Sydney kept walking while Stu trailed behind. "Are you serious?" Sydney questioned the insane kid. "Parents are out of town." He smacked Tatum's ass causing her to sqeek with a laugh. "If this little vixen doesn't invite the whole world we'll be fine. Mix in with the gathering, mix in with friends." He sat Tatum down letting her talk to Sydney.

You watched Stu trying hard to convince Sydney to go. "What do you say Syd? I mean Pathos could have it's perks. Y/n's never been to one of Stu's parties." Tatum said dragging you into it. "I don't really have party clothes plus what if the killer is there?" You questioned. "I'll totally protect you. Yo I am so buff, I got you covered girl." Tatum laughed at her boyfriend. Sydney whined not liking the idea at all. "I mean come on Syd. For me? It could be fun." Stu proceeded to kiss Tatum's neck bringing back all too fresh memories. "Okay, whatever." Tatum squealed.

"Nice!" Stu said "Make sure you girls bring some food when you come over." Stu left you and your friends to go run off somewhere. "I think I'm just going to head home for tonight." Sydney piped up. "No way. If I'm going you have to go." You threw your head back with a groan. "I don't even have clothes for a party." Tatum spun around. "Now that I can help with."

You raised your hand in protest. "You're not dressing me up like a prostitute." Sydney smiled knowing exactly how Tatum would've dressed you. "You're no fun." Tatum teased as you walked back to Dewy's car. Sydney looked at the ground while you and Tatum discussed what you'd wear. Something wasn't sitting right with her but she wasn't sure what it was.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 8

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant

[whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan]

✌🏻 That was so hot… but don’t you dare do that again… ✌🏻

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Channie’s Room is live, but you’re bored in the bedroom. Good thing he’s already looking at his phone.

✎ CW: Established relationship, sexting, nudes, vibrator use, swearing, teensy bit of dirty talk, unprotected sex

✎ Word count: 1,373

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“Everybody put your hands up, Stray Kids sing it loud loud loud…”

As usual, Fam plays at the beginning of Channie’s Room. The webcam is pointed at an empty chair, and he appears as the song comes to an end.

“안녕하세요!” Chan sings, greeting the fans watching his stream. “Helllloooooo!”

The chat is full of the usual comments and questions:

ur so hot!

what are you working on? excited for the next album 💕

marry me!

when are you coming to Brazil?

But then there’s yours:

check your texts, babe 🎡☄️🛋️🎒

It’s the odd combination of emojis you agreed to use if you wanted him to know that one anonymous fan was actually you.

He’s reading through the comments, humming between replies. The chat moves so quickly, you’re prepared to send your comment multiple times before finally catching his eye. But then his finger stops scrolling and thumbs at the bottom of the screen to close the app. Bingo.

The “delivered” under your photo changes to “read,” and you can see his expression change ever so slightly. He clears his throat and tries to keep his cool, but blood rushes to his head, spreading from his ears to his cheeks to his throat. Practically every inch of visible skin is now a deep pink.

“Uh, Stay are being so nice today, you’re making me blush,” he says kind of convincingly. But you know better.

While he set up for the stream, you freshened up and donned your new lingerie. You considered being sweet and waiting until he came back to the bedroom to surprise him, but honestly, this is way more fun.

You took a bunch of selfies: one angled down, one angled up, one straight on your tits, another right on your ass. Lots of options, but you decided on the full body shot from above — your lower lip pinched between teeth at the top of the screen, fingers pulling at the bra strap in the middle, and your long, smooth legs crossed in front of the tiniest pair of underwear at the bottom.

He’s having trouble focusing on the chat now, and who could blame him? You look amazing, and there’s just a wall and some wiring between your bodies right now. Two dozen steps, and he could be on top of you, inside of you.

Chan readjusts his body in the chair, undoubtedly making more room in his jeans for his stiffening cock. He fidgets uncomfortably and tries his best to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

Whoosh

Off goes the second image — this one focused on your chest. But the straps are pulled down and one hard nipple sits just above the edge of the bra’s cup, pinched between two fingers.

This photo goes unseen for a little longer than the first, and you’ll let him open it in his own time. He’s seemingly back in his groove on camera, reading fan-suggested pickup lines and discussing whether a tomato is actually a vegetable or a fruit. You know he won’t be able to resist forever, though.

And of course, you’re right — you know him too well. A shaky inhale from virtual Chan encourages you to check your phone, and, yep, he saw the second one. The blush is back and this time, it’s accompanied by a tiny smirk and narrowed eyes. He cheekily stares at his phone’s screen for just a second too long, prompting commenters to ask if something’s wrong.

“Oh, naur, all good here!” he reassures. “I’m gonna play some songs for you guys and I’m just picking the first one!”

Ok, liar. Fib your way through this one.

Whoosh

Photo number 3 is simple, but speaks volumes. A long, thick vibrator sits atop your bare thigh. It’s a new toy, and he’ll know that. He’ll also know you’ll use it if he takes too long, and the thought of him sitting there listening to music on a livestream while his girlfriend fucks herself in the next room over will drive him crazy.

🎒🎡 wow i’m so bored……. ☄️🛋️

Another comment to push him to check his texts. You may get some less-than-nice replies from Stay for this one, but that’s fine. This is for him, not them.

…but there’s no reaction. You’re not sure if he didn’t see it or is simply ignoring it, but he’s vibing to Le Sserafim’s Antifragile like he isn’t thinking about your tits. Too bad you don’t give up that easily.

💕 you look so good today, 🛋️🎒 차니 🎡☄️

Still nothing. Fine, you’ll just start without him.

Your slender fingers pull the lacy underwear to the side to check how wet you are. Teasing your boyfriend like this always revs you up, so you’re not shocked to discover that two fingers slide in with more than enough room to spare. Time for photo number 4.

This one crosses the line from suggestive to straight-up filthy. Half of the vibrator is visibly slick from your arousal, and the other half is buried deep inside your cunt.

Whoosh

You were so distracted with your little photoshoot that you didn’t notice he replied two minutes ago.

you’re so bad

The last photo shows up as “read” almost immediately, and you glance at your laptop to see his reaction. He’s slumped into the corner of the chair, nervously giggling at his phone. So much for keeping his cool.

He’s stopped paying attention to the chat almost entirely, but you don’t even know if he’s noticed. You tend to have that effect on him. One more text while you know he’s still looking.

get your ass in here 🫦

He bites his lip just a little too seductively for YouTube, then he’s saying his goodbyes with unmistakable urgency.

“Bye Stay!!! Big hug? Big hug!” he coos, leaning in and closing his arms around the camera.

Even the hug is shorter than usual.

“See you next time, byyeee,” he chirps, throwing up that signature peace sign with a wink before disappearing from view.

Seconds later, he’s at the door with the same eagerness you saw on screen. But this time, you can also see the outline of his huge, hard cock in his jeans, complete with a small wet spot of pre-cum where the tip pushes against the denim.

“Hey, handsome,” you hum. “Need something?”

“You know what I need, you fucking tease.”

He’s on top of you before you can blink, groping at your tits and sucking at your neck.

“That stupid thing is nothing compared to me, and you know that,” he says, pushing the shiny new sex toy off the bed.

He unzips his pants and unsheathes his cock, giving it a few solid pumps before sliding those panties he saw earlier to the side and driving himself inside you.

“Oh fuck,” Chan breathes. “God, fu-”

Your lips engulf his, ending his moaning and mumbling. His mouth is citrusy, and it’s making your tongue tingle.

There’s really no rhyme or reason for any movement or grasp. You’re going at each other just like you did when you were nothing more than horny teenagers exploring something — and someone — new. Fingers and nails drag on skin and rake through hair, and you’re not sure how much longer you can last.

“Channie, I’m gonna…” you moan, breaking the sloppy kiss. “Are you…”

“Yeah, baby,” he pants. “Come.”

Manicured nails dig into his shoulder blades and you finish with force, crying out his name over and over. God, you hope he actually ended the livestream.

Then he’s coming too, emptying his balls deep inside you. His thrusts weaken, but the small movements are still enough to push some liquid down your legs and onto the comforter. Something to worry about later.

He collapses on top of you, lacking the strength and will to even pull out. His deep breaths tickle your neck, and you’re still seeing stars on the ceiling. Warm, wet fingers caress your damp collarbones, then he speaks.

“Baby, that was so hot… but don’t you dare do that again. I will fucking block you.”

“Agreed, and deal. I’ll only do it when you’re live on TikTok.”

He can’t tell if you’re serious, and if he’s bothered by the idea, he doesn’t show it. As he said, it was hot. And he was 100% right.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven. 

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy.  And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention. 

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor. 

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart. 

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities. 

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE. 

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul. 

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.   

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.  

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.” 

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you. 

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this? 

[wilbursoot-updates]

Lovejoy Take the Indie Rock Scene by Storm

Lovejoy is in this article!

Formed in 2021, Lovejoy is one of the newest and hottest bands in the indie rock world, building their name around their snappy lyricism, captivating melodies, and overall playful personalities. Comprised of lead vocalist Will Gold, guitarist Joe Goldsmith, bassist Ash Kabosu, and drummer Mark Boardman, the English quartet has already built quite the following through the releases of their three EPs. Their most recent release, Wake Up & It’s Over, came out in May this year, debuting at No. 5 on the UK album charts. Their schedules have been packed, as they did their first US headline tour this spring, topped off by a performance on the main stage at New York’s Governors Ball Music Festival. I had the absolute honor and pleasure of catching up with the guys after their performance at GovBall to discuss their recent successes, unexpected influences, and their hidden abilities:

To start off, let’s discuss your performance earlier today! How was it getting to play at GovBall and see all of your fans?

Will Gold: It was really, really fun.

Ash Kabosu: It was really cool. It’s like the end of a long-ass tour. It was a really nice endcap to everything we’ve been doing in America. It was cool to play New York again. We were here in December last year, and New York crowds are always really cool. I always fucking love this place!

WG: GovBall’s been absolutely incredible so far. Our set was really fun, and it’s always a pleasure to do any sort of main stage or any big stage that we get to perform our songs. It’s always a bit of a blessing.

Joe Goldsmith: We’ve done quite a few festivals, and I think we’ve played the best that we’ve played at any festival. We’ve done four, and that was the best we’ve played.

AK: Actually, we’ve done five! We played Manchester twice.

JG: I’d say that was the best we’ve performed. It was really fun.

Are there any artists that you’re hoping to catch while you’re here?

AK: A ton! I want to see Oliver Tree, Snail Mail

JG: Kenny Beats, Suki Waterhouse would be cool.

AK: Suki is fucking great; we’ve seen them at a few festivals now, and they’re really nice.

Are there any artists that you’re inspired by that fans might be surprised by?

AK: It is only basslines, so you don’t really notice, but I take a lot of inspiration from Idiot Pilot. They’re a small band from back in the emo days. I really like Loathe; I think they’re incredible. They’re just a completely different genre, and you wouldn’t really notice if I didn’t tell you just now.

WG: I get a lot of rhythms from Japanese math rock.

Mark Boardman: A lot of my style of playing comes from bands like Northlane and all these metalcore bands, like Thornhill. Even old stuff from Bring Me The Horizon, that’s the stuff that got me into double kick and stuff. Northlane, especially with the cymbal placement and the double kicks, the space, I love it.

JG: Sometimes I get some weird guitar influences from shoegaze bands, like DIIV or Slowdive, bands like that. It’s stuff like that but also random Japanese city rock from the 80s.

Japan is always living in the future!

JG: Yeah, it’s so cool!

WG: Specific bands that I really like are tricot, Chon, things like that.

I love that you guys mentioned these other influences and how they play a role in your current creation! Are there any other genres that you want to dabble in or draw inspiration from in the future?

JG: I really want Mark to do a jungle drum breakdown at some point in a song because jungle drums are fucking so catchy and boppy, and they’re so fun to groove to. I think we could pull it off, so I think that’s going to be a challenge for Mark.

MB: That’d be really sick. We’d get to experience playing around with a lot of different sounds because it’s a whole lot of cymbals and shit, so that’d be really fun to do that. We’d have to see where it fits though. We’ll get it done.

Which song of yours do you think defines your band the most?

WG: That’s kinda “Call Me What You Like.” Or “Portrait of a Blank Slate.”

AK: We’re still kinda figuring who we are, so it’s difficult to kinda pin it down. I think the songs are just different periods of our development, so I guess it’d be the most recent ones.

What was it like forming your band over the past few years and getting to tour the world so quickly in your careers?

WG: Different. I don’t know if it was more or less difficult. I feel like bands that form and grow on the Internet seem to have a lot of scrutiny for bands that grow the old-fashioned touring way and vice versa—bands that tour and go through that tend to have a lot of scrutiny for the Internet bands. I feel like we could all learn something from each other. I feel like there’s a lot of crossover and important things we can learn. We definitely haven’t done it perfectly, but we’ve done it our way, and that’s what matters.

AK: I feel bad for the bands that are forced to make TikToks all the time. That shit sucks, dude. Just let them make music; that’s what they’re good at!

WG: I like making TikToks.

AK: Yeah, but that’s us: we’re Internet-brained.

If you could switch roles with one of your bandmates for a day, whose role would you want to take on?

WG: Probably Ash.

AK: I’m very happy being me.

It’d be just for a day!

WG: Oh, I’d be the bassist.

AK: I’d be Mark just so I could understand how his brain works.

WG: Oh, we’re being in the other person’s brain? I thought we were just switching instruments.

It’s just switching roles, not bodies!

AK: Oh, okay! Well, not Mark. I would fuck that up so bad.

MB: I want to be Joe and do a guitar solo, slide on my knees. I’d be lead [guitar].

AK: I also want to be lead [guitar].

JG: I’d sing. Nobody wants to be drums.

If you could devise a conspiracy theory involving your band, what would it be?

JG: We're not real.

AK: Yeah, we’re actually AI-generated. We were an earlier iteration of ChatGPT that actually fabricated itself into human beings. It’s very advanced; you’ll probably see this roll out in the next 4-5 years. There’ll be loads of AI bands—we’re the first.

WG: Mine would be that we started the Spanish flu. You remember that pandemic 490 years ago or whatever it was? It definitely wasn’t rampant civilization and technological booms and livestock.

If there were band member Olympics, what events would there be?

MB: Hot dog eating.

Do you guys do a lot of hot dog eating?

MB: Oh yeah, we’re glizzy munchers.

WG: Do we?

MB: Me and Joe don’t eat meat, so yeah, lots of hot dogs!

WG: Don’t ask Mark any more questions! 100-meter, discus, archery, let’s just have the full shebang! I don’t know how we’ll do it, but I just want to see how we’ll do.

AK: I’m not really good at any physical capacity-

WG: Bobsled.

Don’t they have video games now in the Olympics?

JG: Esports type shit! I was thinking skating, as well.

AK: I’ll do some longboarding then.

JG: I’ll play some Tetris for a gold medal.

Any messages you’d like to send your fans?

JG: You’re the best. We appreciate everything that you say and give to us, except for Steve. We don’t care for Steve.

After our quick chat, the guys huddled around a tree in the media area to take portraits, which immediately escalated into a climb up the tree to pose for a few photos. Even in our short time together, all of them were incredibly gracious and took every opportunity to let each of their personalities shine, whether it be through silly facial expressions in their individual photos or laughing along to one another’s goofy mannerisms. Although they were one of the opening acts of the Saturday lineup, their fans came out to show their support, screaming along to each song as if Lovejoy were headlining the main stage. One other photographer mentioned to me that a fan told him that they were only at GovBall to see Lovejoy play, which is true commitment.

Since their GovBall appearance, the band has since played Glastonbury Festival in England and Open’er Festival in Poland, topped off by a headline spot at Belgium’s Rock Werchter. For a band in their earliest years, it’s evident that this is not the last you’ll hear of Lovejoy as the band continues to grow and tour the world. The massive support that they’ve garnered over the past few years is also a testament to their talent and their potential to be one of the biggest names within the indie rock scene as a whole. If you haven’t already hopped on the Lovejoy train, there’s no better time than the present, as there’s no telling what they’ll achieve next!

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 3

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: You and Bradley sneak away from the wedding early for some fun, but your past gets in the way.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! A little bit of smut. Please note: This chapter has heavy and possibly triggering topics for some-unplanned pregnancy, miscarriage, discussion of abortion, asshole ex-boyfriends. Feel free to send me a message if you’d like me to clarify anything before reading!

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You're more than a lover

There could never be another to make me feel the way you do

Oh, we just get closer

I fall in love all over every time I look at you

I don't know where I'd be without you here with me

Life with you makes perfect sense

You're my best friend

You can’t help but smile as you watch Jake and Charlie dance to their first song as a married couple.

Who knew your brother’s wedding would be one of the happiest days of your life?

You clap with everyone else as Jake dips Charlie at the end with a sweet kiss, before turning around with a sigh to take a seat when the DJ invites other couples to the floor when another slow song starts. It’s one of your favorites.

But there’s a tap on your shoulder before you can even take a step.

“Will you dance with me?” Bradley asks.

“I’d love to,” you smile, taking the hand he offered and letting him lead you out on the dance floor.

Your mom spots the pair of you and wiggles her brows. Your dad rolls his eyes at her as he spins them away, winking when you mouth “thank you”.

“Your mom is a hoot,” Bradley chuckles.

“She’s something,” you mumble, breath hitching when he pulls you closer.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” He murmurs in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Only once or twice. I like hearing it though.”

“Can’t help it,” he smiles, meeting your eyes. “I’ll tell you every day if you give me a chance.”

You return his smile before resting your cheek against his chest and close your eyes, fighting the unease that tries to creep in.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Two hours later your feet need a break from all the dancing you’ve done. You press a cold beer to your heated cheeks as you take a breather under the stars.

“Hey! I need you and Bradley to leave now so you can go to our house and decorate for when we get home,” Charlie says as she walks up behind you with a beer also in hand.

You look at her confused before your eyes widen. “Oh shit, Charlie. I never even thought of that! I didn’t realize you’d want-“ you start but she interrupts.

“No, I don’t actually want you to”, she laughs at your puzzled expression. “I’m just giving you and Bradley an excuse to leave soon. That’s what I’m going to say if anyone asks where the two of you went.”

“I can’t leave now,” you argue, even though it does sound like a good plan.

“You can and you will. I’m the bride and what I say goes,” she says, clinking her bottle to yours. “Now finish your beer with me and go…if you want,” she adds, ultimately giving you the choice.

“That does sound nice,” you agree before taking a long pull.

“Thought so,” she smiles, taking a drink too.

You give her a big hug before you head back into the tent to find Bradley. “Have fun on your honeymoon, I don’t want to hear about it when you get back,” you laugh, giving her one more squeeze before pulling back to look at her. “Love you, Char. I’m so happy to call you my sister.”

“Love you too,” she sniffs, pulling back to look you in the eye. “Text me tomorrow. I gotta know if those mustache rides are really what they’re cracked up to be.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“So, my place or yours?” Bradley asks, quirking a brow as he starts your truck. He’d offered to drive since he’d only had water for a few hours now.

“Mine, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see where you call home,” he replies, reaching for your hand in the seat between you.

“It’s small, but it’s just me so I don’t mind,” you say, weaving your fingers through his.

“Do you like living in the country?” He asks as he turns down your road.

“Mhmm. I enjoy the quiet,” you nod your chin to the little white ranch-style home. “It’s this one.”

“Cute,” he observes as he pulls into your drive.

“Thanks. I figure I can always add on if I need more room,” you muse, hopping out. He picks up your bag and his from the backseat before you get a chance to reach for it. “I’d rather do that than move.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to move. It’s beautiful out here. I’ve never seen the moon so big, or so many stars. Wow,” he says softly as he takes in the endless sky.

“If you look long enough you’ll probably see a shooting star. We can sit out here on the swing if you want?” You offer as you unlock your front door.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he murmurs, still looking up.

“Not sure what you all have in your bag, but I’m sure I’ve got some sweats here of Jake’s if you want to change,” you say, pushing the door open.

He nods, loosening his tie. “I’m ready to get out of this suit.”

You find him something of Jake’s to wear that you stole when he was deployed before heading back to your bedroom to change.

You groan in relief when you take off your tight strapless bra after slipping off your dress, putting on silky shorts and a sweatshirt after.

You can’t hide your smirk when Bradley's eyes drop to your bare legs when you come out of your room.

“Beer?” You ask as you open your fridge and bend over to reach them on the bottom shelf, knowing your shorts are riding up.

His gulp is audible before he responds.

“Please.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A few minutes later you find yourself tucked into Bradley’s side on the porch swing with his arm around you.

You see a streak across the sky at the same time he does.

“There! There was a shooting star! Did you see it?” He asks excitedly.

“I did. I’ve seen thousands but it never gets old,” you say, finishing your beer and setting the bottle on the ground.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen one,” he says, still smiling.

Your fingers find his jaw and you turn him towards you before you lean in to press your lips to his.

Crickets chirp in the background as you kiss him slowly, sweetly beneath the light of the moon.

“Cold? Do you want to go inside?” Bradley murmurs as his hand runs over your leg, feeling your goosebumps.

You’re not, but your bed is much more comfortable than the wood swing beneath you.

“Let’s go,” you say, rising before reaching for his hand.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

He spins you into his chest once you pass the threshold of your room, kissing you with more intent than moments before.

He stops only to shuck his borrowed tee but you stop him before he can pull you back in for another kiss. Your eyes hungrily taking in his sculpted chest and stomach.

“Holy shit, Bradley,” you murmur, reaching out to trace the muscles that tense under your touch.

“Tickles,” he breathes, inhaling sharply when your fingers dip lower to the top of his sweatpants.

Your eyes flit back up to his. “You’re gorgeous,” you whisper, kissing the scars on his neck and face before returning to his lips.

Your hands push his pants down and you groan in unison against each other’s mouths when you palm his erection through the thin material of his boxer-briefs.

“That is never gonna fit inside me,” you say pulling back with wide eyes.

He chuckles and steps out of his pants that are pooled at his ankles and backs you up until your legs hit the bed. “I’ll make sure you’re good and ready first,” he says lowly and full of promise as he pulls up your sweatshirt.

Your eyes close after it’s off, revealing your bare chest to him.

“I knew they’d be perfect,” he whispers in awe, immediately cupping a breast in each hand. “I’ve been wondering what they’d look like since I first saw you.”

“Yeah. Wednesday was a long time ago,” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“No,” he shakes his head before he meets your eyes. “Since I saw you at our graduation.”

“3 years ago?” You ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. You were stunning in that yellow dress. I wanted so badly to talk to you but Jake and I weren’t exactly friends.”

“You hated each other,” you agree. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“You’re hard to forget,” he replies, kissing you again as he lays you back on the bed.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Your back arches and your hands fly in Bradley’s hair with a gasp when Bradley sucks a nipple into his mouth, teasing the other with his fingers; alternating back and forth until you’re panting beneath him, rubbing your thighs together for some friction.

That earlier unease rears its ugly head when he goes lower, kissing a path down your stomach.

Chet never did that.

“What are-oh. You don’t have to do that,” you say, propping up on your elbows as he begins to untie your shorts.

“Want to,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your thigh, pausing when he sees the hesitant on your face. “Unless you don’t like it?”

You flop back down and cover your eyes with your arm. “I uh, wouldn’t know.”

“What?”

“My ex…no one’s ever done that before,” you reply, still hiding your face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bradley says, coming up to lay beside you. He gently moves your arm away so he can look you in the eye. “He should be the one embarrassed, not you.”

“Well, we were only 17,” you reply with a sigh.

Bradley’s brow furrows.

“Maybe we should talk,” you sigh, reaching for your sweatshirt, feeling suddenly exposed in more ways than one.

“Sure,” Bradley replies, pulling his sweatpants back on before he lays down at your side.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“I’m sure Jake, or Charlie, or my mom…someone’s told you that I have no interest in relationships, right?” You ask, turning on your back to look at the ceiling.

“Yeah, Charlie mentioned something,” he replies, surprising you by moving closer and placing his hand on yours.

“Well, it’s not true. I am…interested in being in a relationship, but I am absolutely terrified,” you say with a heavy sigh.

“I was a senior when I started dating Chet. He was popular, funny cute, the star running back…everything a 17-year-old girl wanted. He asked me to homecoming and we were inseparable after that. I fell fast and I fell hard; so did he. I know we were young, but it felt like l more than puppy love. He was my first kiss, my first love and he took my virginity the night we graduated. It was awkward and painful, like most first times are,” you say, turning on your back to look at the ceiling.

“We only had sex a few more times before he had to leave for school; he had a scholarship playing football. A few weeks went by and I missed my period,” you take a deep breath before you continue.

“I called Charlie’s mom-Lisa had gotten pregnant with Charlie when she was in high school, so I felt like she’d understand. I was too scared to tell my mom yet. Lisa brought over a test, told me the directions through the bathroom door, hugged me while I sobbed when it was positive, and held my hand when I told my parents. My mom and dad were so supportive and didn’t try to persuade my decision, which was to keep it. My dad even cried at the ultrasound,” you smile at the memory.

“And Chet? Was he supportive?” Bradley asks softly, already knowing the answer.

“No, he wasn’t,” you shake your head. “He was so angry. It scared me, he’d never yelled at me like that before. He told me to get rid of it before he accused me of cheating on him since there was no way it was his because we’d used a condom. Then he stopped returning my calls and texts; just ghosted me. To say I was devastated is an understatement. I was going to be a mom at 18, I lost the love of my life and I could see my dreams of becoming a veterinarian circling the drain.”

“Whatever you say next…it’s not going to change anything,” Bradley tells you, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

You nod before your eyes fall closed. This part hurts the most. “I was so stressed out; I couldn’t eat, I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. A few weeks later I started cramping, and then the bleeding started. I lost the baby.”

“Oh Em,” he whispers. It kills you to hear tears in his voice.

“I was such a mess. The doctor told me it wasn’t my fault but I still find myself wondering if it was. I felt so guilty, but relieved; and guilty that I felt relieved. I became a shell of the girl I’d been. I decided to go to school, to pretend I was okay. I still remember Chet’s face when he saw me in the courtyard; the way he did a double take. He smiled; fucking smiled when I told him I miscarried. I slapped him across the face so hard it echoed,” you say, lip twitching in satisfaction to that memory.

“I haven’t dated or been with anyone since, I haven’t even wanted to until I met you,” you say, turning your head towards him finally, but still unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sure this isn’t what you had in mind when I asked you to leave with me.”

“I didn’t have any expectations for tonight. I was just excited to spend more time with you,” he tilts your chin up. “I really like you too, Em. I’m a patient man and you’re worth waiting for.”

You give him a small smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Hours go by as the two of you talk about anything and everything; what it was like growing up with Jake, the way Lisa became your second mom, how you still think about your baby; if they would’ve been a boy or a girl. In return, he tells you what it was like losing his parents so young, the crazy antics his adopted uncles got up to, and the paralyzing fear he felt before Jake saved his life.

“Oh God, what time is it? We talked all night,” You say through a yawn when you notice light starting to filter through the curtains.

“5:53,” Bradley replies, failing to stifle his own yawn as he checks his phone.

“Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?” You ask, exhaustion catching up to you quickly.

“I’m pretty comfy here,” he says eyes already closing, but he fights it to look at you to ask, “If that’s okay?”

You nod before snuggling into his side, still smiling when sleep pulls you under.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: Well…now you know why Emma is the way she is. What do you think?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

@littlezee80

@emma8895eb

@schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker

[toomuchracket]

sweet touches (ross x girlband gf!reader fluff)

soz this is late it's actually day 11 of promptober and not 12 oops!! but we move. it's cute, it's fun, and it's lowkey super trouper by abba coded. i might genuinely write a fic inspired by that song for these two at some point, but enjoy this for now! <3

the party is in full swing when you and your girls arrive. clinging to one of their hands, you slowly weave your way towards the bar through the throng of people, a lot of whom you suddenly recognise as the sporadic lights inset in the ceiling throw their faces into focus.

there's one face present in particular, though, that no amount of shitty soho house lighting could disguise from you; you clock it almost immediately when you step through the door. understandable, considering you've spent a fair few nights learning every contour of that face with your own body, and even more insomnia-ruined nights committing it to memory in near-darkness, the only light in the bedroom being the tiny crack that escapes the side of the roller blinds.

plus, the fact he's six foot four and a creature of habit also helps your recognition capabilities. of course ross would be standing at the bar itself, whisky in one hand, the other in his trouser pocket, face pensive in concentration on whoever's talking and generally just ridiculously handsome.

said face morphs into a sly smirk as he notices you walking in. like you, ross is all too familiar with what your face looks like in low lighting, the result of more than a couple of gin-soaked late nights in his house, and of an entire weekend spent bare(faced and elsewhere) in front of the fire in a cairngorms log cabin, so he quickly spots you, too.

you feel your own cheeks lift in response. fuck, he's hot.

and he's yours.

despite that fact, you don't drop your friend's hand and make a beeline for ross as soon as the two of you lock eyes. there's a part of you wishes you could, but you're both enjoying the privacy of your relationship right now - someday, you'll go public, you've discussed it, but it's nice to have one thing that escapes the usual scrutiny your respective bands are both under. once the hype over you and your girls and the controversy around your boyfriend's best friend dissipates a bit (although, nobody's sure which thing will happen first), there's less chance of the two of you being pestered by paparazzi and the public when you finally step out together on purpose.

besides, you can still have some fun with your boyfriend now, albeit discreetly. neither of you say anything as you go to walk past ross - his face stays locked on the person he's in conversation with, yours stays peering ahead of you so you don't lose your friends - but he almost imperceptibly takes his hand from his pocket before you reach him. it brushes against your free one quite deliberately, calloused fingers looping around your own as much as they can within the limited time you have to connect. 

warmth seems to shoot through your body from your fingertips as soon as they meet ross's. you feel the cold set back in when the two of you slide apart again, and then the longing follows. suddenly, keeping the relationship contained in its own little bubble seems like an awful idea to you; if not for your friend's grasp on you, you'd probably run back to your boyfriend, cling to him, burrow into the crook of his neck and stay with him for the rest of the night.

but you stay somewhat composed, and merely chance a sneaky look back at ross, something neither of you tend to do on nights like these. after all, how many times have you bypassed each other at parties like you just did, and still ended up in his arms in one of your beds when the evening's over? it's a given. you both know it'll happen, trust that it will. there's no need to do an orpheus and turn back to double check. you know that, and your turning back to look at ross is less hadestown and more a star is born, anyway - you just don't want to stop looking at him, ever, can't resist one more peek.

you really miss him.

you're surprised to notice that ross is glancing back at you too, but his reasoning is clear; even in the poor lighting you can see the soft concern in his eyes. they soften, though, as he smiles at you and mouths "see you later", and you smile genuinely too. he really does know you so well, you think, to be able to tell from the shortest of touches that you're missing him. the warmth returns to your body with his little gesture, and your little bubble doesn't seem so bad anymore.

the glances don't continue past that point, and neither do the clandestine touches that fuel the two of you on nights like these. but it's alright - you have a nice enough time with your friends, mingling and sipping champagne, that you're fairly distracted from missing ross. that, and it takes a far shorter time for the two of you to "run into each other" than it has done before. 

the routine is always the same; somebody, but never either one of you, inevitably pulls the two of you into a conversation huddle. tonight, it's the queen of pop herself, charli, with an "oh, have you seen george yet? and ross? they'll want to hear this, surely" amidst a breakaway chat about production that started when she sat down to gossip with you and her bandmates.

you smile to yourself as the words leave her mouth - just she and her boyfriend and you and ross together, and then they'll go off to dance or smoke or kiss as they so often do, and you'll be left alone with your man in a seemingly casual way. perfect. "no, i haven't seen them at all tonight, actually."

liar.

"yeah? let's go and annoy them, then," charli stands, waving and kissing your bandmates goodbye before looping her arm through yours and leading you back towards the bar. again, you spot ross first, even though george is the one facing you and his girlfriend. he winks at her and nudges ross, who turns to look at the two of you approaching. he smiles, cheeks dimpling deeper and deeper as charli practically shoves you into the boys with an excited "look who i found!"

"hiya," george says, pulling you into a long, friendly hug. "it's been too long, mate. where have you been? nobody's seen you! you're almost as bad as ross, cooped up producing 24/7 now."

that makes you giggle - you both use the same excuse, and nobody's any the wiser about it. "well, we can't all have hot girlfriends distracting us from it, can we?" you wink at charli, who tugs you into her side and kisses your temple. "must be nice, eh, ross?"

it's extremely cheeky of you, and you might get into a teensy bit of trouble with your boyfriend for it later, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. and, to be honest, ross is really sexy when he's a little bit irritated at you.

he's also really sexy now, smirking at you. "well, i can only imagine."

"yeah," you laugh, breaking free of charli's hold and opening your arms towards ross. "hi, by the way. s'good to see you."

it's not a lie - the relief in your body just from being close to him is palpable, and it increases to such a level when he hugs you that you almost audibly sigh. home at last.

"back at you," ross says into your hair. it's agonising when he pulls away from you, but your heart races when he accidentally-on-purpose presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth instead of your cheek. "whoops, sorry about that, love…"

(he's so not.)

"...must be drunker than i thought," ross gives the most convincing faux-embarrassed grin you've ever seen, while charli and george cackle like schoolkids behind you at his "mishap".

"oh, it's alright," you smile, wrapping an arm around his waist casually. "what are you drinking, anyway?"

"whisky. talisker."

"would i like it?"

ross shrugs. "i don't know. let me buy you one and we'll see."

you do like it, a fact you discovered when you and ross took a trip to skye and visited the distillery during the summer, but it's nice to pretend, to let ross discreetly spoil you the way he loves to do; nobody even considers it a romantic or flirty gesture, as evidenced by george's "you and your crusade to get everyone drinking whisky, honestly".

"it's good for you, mate," comes your boyfriend's reply, delivered over his shoulder as he waits for the barman to pour you a half.

"so's weed, but you don't see me trying to convince everyone to smoke. maybe i should, actually. i don't know why more people here don't."

charli takes george's face in her hands. "because it's illegal in the UK, babe."

"oh, right, so it is."

the two of them collapse into a fit of the giggles, kissing cutely before ordering their own drinks. amidst their funny little distraction, ross gently pushes the crystal glass of your whisky along the bar into your hand. his hand covers yours, briefly, and as it does he uses his middle finger to tap three times on the back of your hand - i love you.

your heart swells, and you smile as you look up at him. sliding your glass back and hand from under his, you respond by tapping four times on ross's finger - i love you too - before bringing the glass up to your lips and letting the amber liquid roll down your throat. it kind of makes you feel the same way ross does, actually; warm, cosy, content. "this is nice."

"it is," ross agrees, and you know he's also referencing both the moment and the drink like you are. his brow furrows slightly, and he brings his free hand up to your face. "you've got a little…"

with his thumb, he wipes a stray drop of whisky from the side of your mouth, then boldly drags it across your lips before bringing it to his own and smirking.

"ross," you glance around quickly to make sure you're not being watched, before scootching closer to your boyfriend. "what was that?!"

"irresistible, love," ross winks. "waste not, want not, and all."

you laugh, which seems to remind george and charli of your existence. they move to stand between the two of you, george's arm resting on his best friend's shoulder and charli's slung around your own. she lightly pokes your cheek. "what are you giggling at?"

"how tipsy ross is. i think he needs his bed."

the two of them cackle again, while ross smiles warmly at you. "you're right, actually. would love to be in bed right now."

"actually," george turns to his girlfriend. "i'm ready to go home, too, i think."

"yeah, this party's a bit dead, anyway," charli shrugs.

you scoff. "course it is. it's a soho house."

everyone laughs, and george reaches around charli to clap you on the back. "see, this is why we all love you - you tell it like it is. take it you're heading out with us, then?"

"if that's alright, yeah," you nod, sipping your drink.

"absolutely," charli squeezes you. "where are you staying tonight?"

you name the area, pointedly not looking at your boyfriend. george is the one to note the familiarity, but he still doesn't cotton on. "oh, like ross. well that works perfectly, then - we'll get out first, and then the two of you can share the taxi for the rest of the journey. cool?"

ross nods. "cool. shall we?"

you down the rest of your whisky, and he snorts. "let me run and say goodbye to the girls - i'll get you at the door."

"i'll come with you, actually," ross chips in. "matty'll kill me if i don't pass on the message that he loves the new album to the four of you."

"as he should," charli says. "we'll get you outside."

you nod, and the two couples part ways. with a "fucking finally", ross takes your hand, and you lead him towards your - visibly tipsy - friends. the feeling of your hand in his spurs you on, and you barely manage to shout a "bye, girlies!" to your bandmates before you're tugging ross towards the door. before you reach it, though, he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you into a darkened alcove; his lips are on yours immediately, and you moan at the feeling. 

despite your public setting, you wish the kiss lasted longer; ross pulls away after only a couple of seconds, before you can open your mouth and instigate a full make-out session. you whine almost involuntarily as he does, which makes him chuckle.

"m'sorry, baby," ross says, kissing your forehead before pulling you back into the party. "i just couldn't hold it in any longer. was gasping for that the whole night, honestly."

"me too," you smile, weaving your way back through the crowds - ross has to hold your hips to stay close to you, which of course you don't complain about. "can't wait for more when we get home."

"same," a final squeeze of your body, then ross lets you go as you step outside. "oh, there they are."

your timing couldn't have been any better - you and ross reach charli and george just as the cab does. ross ends up sitting next to you after you've all clambered in, and he rests his head on your shoulder in what you hope is only fake tiredness as charli directs the driver and the car sets off.

george squints at you and ross. "you know, you two would actually be a really good couple."

"really?" ross cracks an eye open to stare at his bandmate in amusement.

"oh, you so would! i mean, you look great together," charli agrees. "like, that's an onlyfans channel i'd subscribe to right there."

ross turns his face into your shoulder to cringe, while george shakes his head and you laugh in slight disbelief. "thanks?"

"you do look hot together, to be fair," george grins. "but i've seen ross naked enough in life already, cheers."

not relatable to you whatsoever, but you laugh along with the rest of them all the same, and sigh in slight relief when the couple opposite you get out of the taxi (after charli kisses all over your face repeatedly and promises to text you to organise dinner, a girls' holiday, and a studio session, "in that order").

as soon as your friends disappear from view, ross presses a little kiss to your neck and rests his hand on your thigh; he traces the little hearts on your tights quite happily, smiling into your skin as you tell the driver you're happy for the next drop-off point to be the final one.

you slide your arm behind ross's neck, reaching up and round to stroke the side of his face. "do you want to shower when we get in? or just a brew then bed?"

"i don't mind. i get to hug you either way," ross murmurs, softly kissing your jaw.

"sap."

"only when it comes to you, love."

[windvexer]

I have a question about tarot. We see a lot of people doing tarot readings online nowadays,it's kind of "trendy". sometimes they just buy the cards and start doing already

Is this something truly anyone can do? Doesn't a person need some kind of extra sensitivity or something to be able to do divination?

Also don't the answers from tarot come from a spirit ? Because then, I think depending of the person the spirit might just not answer anything or the person isn't able to connect with any spirit. So I feel like a lot of times in end aren't they just getting the cards by luck and not having any actual meaning?

Hi!

Yeah, anyone can read tarot. Hypothetically.

Like hypothetically, anyone can make music. Some people in the world may be so tone deaf or poorly disposed towards these pursuits that they'll never be able to play a song, or at least not able to do so without a level of work that makes the entire process untenable.

I believe that while some people may be born with a predisposition towards spiritual pursuits, "sensitivity" is something people develop like a muscle.

When I started reading tarot I wasn't "sensitive" in the slightest and it took me a long time to get the hang of it. Like, years of practice! I still get salty when a beginner picks up a tarot deck and they can do after a few weeks what it took me six years to achieve.

The discussion of where tarot answers come from is a fascinating one, and I think anyone who wants to get into tarot seriously should contemplate it.

The answer I've come up with is that no, not all input for tarot readings comes from a spirit. I believe that humans are spiritually powerful and do not need spirits to do everything for them. A human has the power to link a tarot deck directly to a situation, or directly to another person, and channel those answers directly.*

Tarot is a tool, like a pen. Whether or not someone is channeling words directly from the spirits, or having a lovely time doing a doodle, is none of my concern. I think it's nice that people are having fun with tarot and enjoying themselves, and it's no concern of mine if all of them are verified mystics.

*(P.s., this is why tarot can be so fatiguing; if you don't petition spirits or helpers to assist you during readings, and if you don't take any other steps to facilitate psychic connection, you may be spending a lot of energy to 'brute force' a connection with the subject and exhausting yourself. This is why reading for yourself and your inner world might be easy, but reading accurately for others who are at a different location can be exhausting. Try exploring sorcerous branches of witchcraft which can deliver magical solutions to mitigate this problem.)

[underscorehealy]

producer in crime - matty healy x labelmate!au

chapter 1: part of the band

wc: 1.1k

cw: none

an: hiya!! this is the new and improved au i've been working on and i'm sorry again for deleting the last one. it really just wasn't it for me. but i'm so stoked abt this one!! this was a lot of fun to write and i genuinely hope you like it as much as i do :)

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

you trip over the main flight of stairs as you enter the main room of the studio. today's the first day of production on your new album, interstella. the name came to you like that, mainly because your name is stella. you'd never really worked in a proper studio before, as before this, you had usually made all of your previous works on your laptop in bed. so naturally, this was a huge deal.

you'd recently been signed to indie label, dirty hit, who is home to a few notable names like the japanese house, beabadoobee, and the one you're most excited about, the 1975. they were such a big inspiration for you to even start making music. but you had been friends with amber (aka the japanese house) for a few years now so when she introduced you to jamie, the label owner, you were ecstatic to finally have a place to showcase your talents. so some hope and a few paperwork signatures later, you were finally about to record your debut album.

"you okay?" a deep, male voice said as he watched you trip over the stairs. "oh yeah!! thanks" you chuckle. when you look up, you notice george daniel, the drummer and producer for the 1975. you had felt honored to be in his presence. jamie had usually set new artists up with george and matty healy because of their level of skill but you still felt incredibly honored.

"yeah thanks!" you catch your breath with a slight blush of embarrassment. george leads you into the studio and you're automatically in love with the sight in front of you. recording booth, guitars galore, it's everything you've dreamed of and more. "george. nice to meet you. first time in a studio?" he says giving off a cheeky grin. "yeah. pretty nervous actually. from a laptop in bed to a full studio really is a big progression." "yeah, been there." you show george some of the writing you've done and the demos you've made when all of a sudden you hear running footsteps rushing into the room.

"fuck. am i late?" a decently tall man (taller than you anyway), with coffee brown curls that look like little croissants at the top of his head and tapioca colored eyes, completely out of breath while almost dropping his guitar case pronounces. "yeah, where the fuck were you mate?" george shoots the man a glare. "alarm didn't go off." "mhm. sure." george passively says. "matty, this is stella. stella, this is matty." you and matty both introduce yourself to each other. from your understanding (what jamie told you), matty is co-producing the album with george, and providing backups on whatever he needs to. you involve matty in the discussion of presenting demos and having them listen to some of the voice notes you recorded on your phone.

both matty and george seem pretty impressed on what you already have. now you just have to bring all of the demos to life, but you have the fantastic duo to help you along the way so in reality you're incredibly lucky to be in this position.

today was mainly spent going over the album, listening to demos, playing around with different sounds and coming up with ideas to make the album even better. though you would be lying if you didn't feel a bit awkward in this position. you're with 2/4 of one of the most popular bands in the world who are so much more experienced than you. to be fair, they've been doing this for 20 something years so next to them, you feel like a tiny ant next to a big tree.

"yo, scarlett!! i have this little intro guitar idea thingy for the 6th song. you wanna hear??" matty shouts from the other corner of the room but you're too busy thinking about the potential of the album and hoping you'll make it work. you feel a sudden slap on your shoulder. "you good?" he says as he lets out a chuckle. "oh! yeah! totally fine! what's up?"

after you guys are done at the studio for today, you get a text from jamie just asking about how today went and setting up a label meeting to talk about the album, it's visuals and the future of your career. you tell him your down for a meeting on monday, which is only 3 days away.

george is the first to leave the studio, having to go take mayhem on a walk. "you excited?" you hear matty's dark but somewhat girly voice across from you, while putting out a cigarette. "yeah definitely!! as well as completely and utterly nervous at the same time. this is my first time ever in like a professional studio so this is a giant leap for me." you say as you continuously spin around in the spinny chair. "yeah, feel ya there." matty says. "we've worked with small artists a lot, especially with ones that are just getting used to the industry. this shit is crazy so it's good to have mentors that can start you out and guide you but its not like we're gonna leave you off after to fend for yourself. hell, george produced ambers last album and she's been doing this for a bit, you know?" "i can't really say i know but i'm totally grateful to have you and george guiding me." you say as matty shoots you a smile .

"well, stella, it was great meeting you!!" he says as you hands you a small paper slip. "here's my number just in case you need anything. cya around!" you didn't get the chance to say goodbye before he packed up his guitar case and left but you were too exhausted so after he left, you followed not too far behind. you hopped in your car and headed off back to your flat.

right after you enter your front door, your cat, eloise, nuzzles up against your ankle and you can't help but laugh and snap a picture. you pick her up and head to your couch, plopping you and eloise in front of the tv. nothing good on, but you decide on some dumb reality show anyway. you pick up your phone and shoot matty a text.

(your texts | matty's texts)

hi!! this is stella btw :)

yo, you good??

yeah. everythings okay. just wondering if you wanted to have a coffee or something before the meeting monday.

yeah, that sounds great actually. 9am-ish??

yeah, sounds great. cya there!!

you smile with excitement filled in your eyes as matty reads your last message sent to him. and at that moment, you feel incredibly lucky to be in this position and to produce your album with 2 of the most inspiring people on the planet.

[nat-20s]

mini-fic time!!!

(all of these r also posted on ao3 lol)

Donna and The Doctor share a discussion about Christmas

~*~

It’s during one of their many little late night chats that the subject comes up. It even happens organically, Donna noting the soft glow of the fairy lights pinned about that were, technically speaking, Christmas lights, and how the entire family had apparently conceded to this being a year round fixture. Of course, instead of focusing on the noble-temple-mott-doctor clan’s terrible consistency with interior decorating, the Doctor throws on a downright cheeky grin and asks, “So. You still hate Christmas?”

She knows the answer he’s expecting. After all, this year’s event was, perhaps, ‘lovely” and ‘joyful’ and ‘bringing tears to her eyes a few times, don’t mention it’. But. Still. Eh?She grimaces and sucks in a breath through her teeth, which is enough for The Doctor to throw the non-mug holding arm in the air and ask slightly too loud, “Seriously?”

Donna shrugs and hides her face behind her mug. “I mean…”

The Doctor blinks at her a few times, and as she has no desire to provide further details, he replies, “Huh. Really? Ialways sort of assumed that, well. You didn’t like Christmas because you had mostly bad ones?”

“What, no.I had loadsof happy Christmases. Hell, there was a good ten years where it was the only day me and mum were actually nice to each other. I just don’t really care for it. I mean, sure, there’s...parts I like, I guess. I like the lights, some of the songs are okayish, and don’t get me wrong, I have loads of fun getting to spoil Rose rotten each year but. I dunno, it’s all a bit, ugh,you know?”

When she gets a downright agog expression in exchange for her statement, she can’t help but snort. “Why the hell do you even care? I can’t imagine that Time Lords are all that arsed about Christianity, and, by the way, if you tell me that you were Christ, I’m gonna tell you fuck off, no you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“Was one of the disciples though.”

“Fuck off, no you weren’t.”

The Doctor stares at her very, very intensely, giving away nothing. For all of about 3 seconds, when his nose wrinkles up in amusement and he waves a hand. “No, I wasn’t. I’m not sure I even know all their names. Think I have some reindeer mixed up with them. On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donny, on Simon, or something like that.”

Donna manages to just roll her eyes rather than enjoy the goof, because he is derailing the conversation, again. “So my point stands. What’s your big thing about Christmas?”

After a hum and a shrug, The Doctor replies, “Oh, it’s not just Christmas. Purim, Holi, Lunar New Year, hell, I adore a good Arbor Day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s..”

The Doctor looks to the side for a second, in that non-targeted way that Donna knows means he’s trying to remember something. She takes a sip from her cocoa and practices some of her hard won patience.

With a soft hum, The Doctor finally comes back to the present and tells her, “It’s not that Gallifrey never had holidays, of sorts. But they were all very traditional and very serious and very dour. It was all ceremony and diligence and respect, not,” he nods towards the Christmas tree, “fairy lights and colored powders and silly costumes.”

Grinning now, he continues, “You know, in all the lifetimes I’ve lived and all the species I’ve met, humans are utterly unparalleled in their ability to have fun. For all your lots’ faults, of which there are many-”

“-yes, thank you-”

“-nobody celebrates like a human. Any excuse, even the basic, or, ah, often not so basic, act of survival, and you’ll start singing and eating and dancing. You have such a capacity for joy it will leak from you. Happy crying, who the hell does that?”

“Hold on, I’ve seen you do that. Three times in as many days when you first got here.”

Tilting his head in acknowledgment, he counters, “Ah, but that’s only because of the company I keep. Your laughter is infectious, literally, in the year 16,000 it gets classified as a dangerous contagion.I mean, honestly, you lot could make a Dalek snicker. It’s...it’s incredible. There’s genuinely like nothing else in the universe, and, well, I can’t help but be charmed by Christmas as a small sliver of all that relentless joy.”

After a half second pause, he adds, “Plus, yes, the lights are quite pretty.”

Donna can’t quite contain a smile, replying, “I suppose I could see the appeal of it. Through that lens.”

The Doctor grins back at her, and they let themselves sit in a companionable silence. After a minute of simply letting themselves be, and polishing off the last dregs of their cocoa, Donna tells him, “Still can’t fucking stand ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ though.”

Hearing the burst of laughter that comes from The Doctor, Donna can’t help but silently agree with him. She thinks it’s not so bad being infectious, when that infection is joy.

[prettygirlmjmjmj]

Romanticising school and studying

Going to school everyday can get a little monotonous at times, especially if you aren't a massive fan of all your subjects or don't like the class your in for a variety of reasons (annoying classmates, bad teacher etc). Romanticising school can help make going seem more appealing, help motivate you and ensure that you actually start to enjoy going - as well as meaning you look and feel pretty every day. These tips are ones I personally follow and they have helped me stay organised and motivated (so much so that people often describe me as 'that girl'). I really hope they help you too or at least inspire you to find ways to romanticise school/studying!!

Create school playlists. This is a playlist to put on while studying, going to school or when you need to feel a little bit more enthusiastic about school. Give it a pretty cover and title and pick songs that make you feel happy and motivated.

If you get to pick your own clothes, pick clothes that make you feel cute and comfortable, with jewellery to add extra details to your outfit. If you wear a school uniform (which I used to have to wear) try and find ways to make it cuter without breaking uniform rules, for example wearing bows/ribbons in your hair, jewellery, cute socks, stylish shoes and jumpers/cardigans.

Try to buy pretty school essentials. For example a nice bag, pencil case and stationary, an adorable water bottle, a lunch box and a pretty notebook.

Add stickers to your school book covers! Try to either find ones which fit the subject (for example quotes for literature) or just stickers that you love. Decorating your notebooks make them a little cuter and might help motivate you to open them more!

Make your notes colourful and pretty. I love taking colourful, fun notes (I'm pretty well known for it in my classes) and it always help my notes be more memorable and also easier to read and turn into additional revision resources. If you aren't sure where to start, pinterest always has super pretty note inspo.

Try and join clubs or activities which are around things that you love such as an art club or a football club! This is a great way of meeting new people but also making your day more interesting and busy.

Before you start studying, set your desk up. Turn lamps on, light candles, open a window, fill your water bottle up and get your favourite highlighters and pens! This will make it easier to start studying and make it feel more cozy, helping you to study for longer.

Have a delicious and nice looking breakfast. Nourishing your body in the mornings will help you to feel more energised and motivated for the day ahead. My favourite breakfasts (and the ones I think are the most aesthetic) always involve fresh fruits.

Bring a book with you to school! I always bring at least two books to school with me, one book that will be good for gaining more knowledge in classes and the other that's just a fun read. This will give you something to do when you're bored other than scrolling on your phone.

Find role models to inspire you to do better in school. Whether they are real people or fictional characters, try and find role models who inspire you to study harder and do better in school. Think about why you admire them and try to adopt those qualities yourself.

Try studying outside or in a café you love every once in a while. Order your fave drink and snack, put on your playlist and get studying.

Try to participate more in school or engage in class discussions. Verbalising your ideas and getting feedback on them can be so helpful, and so motivating especially when you make a good point or get something right.

Create a vision board or pinterest board themed around how you want your school experience to be. Look at it regularly and try to motivate yourself to fit that vision.

Install studying/school apps on your phone so you can revise between breaks or make revision a little quicker! Some apps I recommend are: quizlet (best app for making flashcards), flora (cute little timer), notion (great for organisation), wunderlist (to do lists), wild journey (relaxing sounds for studying) and xmind (for digital mindmaps).

Try studying with a group, a friend or with a 'study with me' youtube video! This is a great way of keeping yourself disciplined and motivated and of studying with real people can help you feel more motivated.

Thank you for reading! Good luck and all my love, mj.