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astraystayyh · 1 year

Text

Volcano

pairing : han x reader. enemies to lovers. slow burn.

summary : you've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.

"I'll take care of you. It's rotten work. Not to me, not if it's you."

cw : depiction of a panic attack, minor injury, both reader and han say mean shit to each other, cursing, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 13.2k

a.n: highly recommend listening to "Let the light in" by Lana when Han starts playing it in the fic hehe feedback is highly appreciated as always <3

skz quotes series masterlist.

You remember being seven years old, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, while your mom brushed your hair. It was a late July night, a cold breeze swaying your white curtains, akin to the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. Your eyes were slightly puffy, delicate red veins protruding the white of them. You had just finished watching a Disney movie- the Lion King; heavy sobs escaping your lips when Mufasa died.

There were still faint hiccups coursing through you, a slight shake in your hands as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Your mom brought you to her chest, her chin resting on your small shoulder blade. "You’re sensitive, my sweet girl" she had uttered, rubbing your arms soothingly.

It was the first time someone described you as such. You didn’t know what ‘sensitive’ entailed exactly, but it contained the word ‘sense’, so you assumed it was something good, a quality to be proud of you. You could sense, maybe more than others, maybe too deeply. That’s why you cried when you didn’t get a good grade, or when your friends left you alone in the park.

But you didn't mind back then. What was your heart made for if not to feel?

You should’ve paid more attention to the way your mom spoke, to the bittersweetness lingering in her tone. As if she knew exactly what it entailed to be sensitive- to have your heart overflow with delicate feelings for the rest of your life, with no safe destination to guard them in.

☄༄

You’ve forgotten the last time you cried in.

The tears are lodged inside your throat- you can clearly feel them, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your vocal cords, rendering them impossible to use.

You used to cry, freely, so much that you lost count of how much it happened. But you realized that every tear that escaped your eyes, made you vulnerable, weaker, in the hands of the people around you. Every tear that washed over you, only rendered you more transparent for everyone to peer at how they wounded your soul.

So, you conditioned yourself to stop feeling as deeply, or at least to stop showing it. The sadness, the hurt, the anger were all stored within you; but your face remained placid, not betraying how you truly felt. You were like a pond, tranquil at the surface, raging from within.

But on days like this one, you miss the person you were. When the implications of being sensitive still haven’t weighed down on you. When you could get rid of your feelings in the essence of your tears. When you didn’t yet feel bad for feeling.

Chan's eyes are on you, as you type furiously on your laptop. Your vision is so blurry that you can no longer see your lit screen. But you’re afraid that if you pause then Chan would ask if you were okay, and you hated that question. Because you never truly knew the answer to it. Yes, you were okay. But you haven’t cried in six months and your friend didn’t greet you back this morning and you suddenly feel very small in a very large library.

"Hey," Chan taps your hand with his pen and you suck in a slight breath, before raising your head to meet his eyes. "Are you-" he starts but you’re quick to cut him off, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Did you answer question five? I’m stuck on what formula to use."

Chan raises a brow at you, and you blink repeatedly. His eyes travel to your feet tapping furiously against the floor, and he understands.

"I'm still at number four," he finally says and you nod in relief. You’ve been close friends for a year and Chan has come to know you- he’s dropping the subject.

"Oh, and are you coming to the party tonight?" Chan asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s hosting it and there is hope twinkling in his eyes. You feel bad because you’re about to crush it.

"No, need to revise more for the upcoming test."

"Of course, you’ll still be buried in your books," a sarcastic voice quips up, and you stiffen inwardly. Han- one-third of 3racha, Chan’s self-made producing group, and the bane of your existence. You never liked who you were around Han, he brought out the worst in you. Made all your insecurities roar forward, plastered across your body in neon red.

He was friends with Chan, long before you came into the picture, back into their high school days when Han skipped a class and ended up in the same one as Chan’s. A genius, as everyone around you liked to call him. And they were right- excelling came easily to Han, in everything he ever did. Even tapping into each one of your tender nooks and crannies.

He knew how to expertly push your buttons, how to make his tone sound mocking, and taunting, but only to you. Because you were sensitive, and he knew it, finding it almost amusing to toy with you.

You decide to stay silent because nothing good ever comes out of talking back to him. So, you bite your tongue, turning back to look at your screen. But Han’s elbow grazes your arm, as he leans a bit further into your face. "Come on, live a little, y/n. You’re missing out on the college experience," he makes a big show of opening his arms wide, a single red pen spinning between his fingers. "Quit being stuck up for one night." And it spins, and it spins, and it spins and something ugly inside you crumbles.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t born with a golden spoon shoved down my throat and I actually have to work for my future."

Han’s eyes widen at the raw animosity in your voice, before narrowing down promptly. He’s leaning onto your face again, and his tone is low and cold when he speaks again. "What did you just say to me?"

"Is it so hard to grasp that not everyone is as privileged as you? We can’t all afford to get wasted every fucking night and call it a life."

You’re being mean. This is the rudest you’ve ever been to someone else. You know that your reaction is disproportionate to what he said. But it isn’t just about this instant. It’s an amalgam of every moment Han made you feel small in, because you don’t go out as much as him, because you don’t understand as quickly as him. Taunts thrown your way under the guise of teasing, but you know better.

Still, guilt eats at you as your eyes lock with Chan’s. You should’ve stayed silent, as you’ve been diligently doing for the past year.

"How do you stand being her friend Chan? Is it out of pity?" Han muses, a pout pulling at his lips. You stare ahead as Han tsks lightly, before tapping your cheek with his pen, bringing your face back to him. "I think it is. Because isn’t she so fucking boring?"

Being near Han always makes you hyper-aware of things you never noticed before. Like how a breath has to travel from the depths of your body so you’d be able to release it, and how excruciatingly long it takes for you to draw in a new one. Because Han’s words are never harmless, no, they settle on the confines of your lungs, crushing down any bit of oxygen willing to leave you.

You've had enough.

"When you’re eighty, on your deathbed, and all alone. I hope you know that there is no one around to blame but yourself."

"Don’t cross the line, yn," Chan finally speaks and you scoff, as you get up to grab your things.

"What fucking line, Chan? So, he can insult me all day but as soon as I do it there is a line? Why are you taking his side?"

Chan stays silent and you chuckle dryly. "Of course, you are. You’re only friends with me out of pity after all."

"That’s not true-"

"Well, you didn’t deny it, did you Chan?"

"Yn, I-"

"Save it."

Han’s eyes are glossy as you take one final glance at him. But your heart’s bleeding too much for you to care about his minor cut.

☄༄

For how much time can a conversation haunt someone? Seventeen days, for your case. And you're still counting.

You have nit-picked your fight with Han in the library so much that it's driving you insane. His voice is drilled into your head- the coldness of it as he reeled back from the shock of your words, and then, the pure venom dripping from his tone, as he attacked you where it hurt the most. Chan.

Han chose his words carefully, stitched up the sentence perfectly to hurt you, to stick to your flesh like burnt skin, one that you peeled over and over, each time it threatened to scar.

You haven't talked to Chan in seventeen days. He tried to stop you; on your way out of class, in the line of your campus cafeteria, on the doorsteps of your dorm. But you always fleet away. His eyes were also imprinted into your brain- the disappointment in them when you clapped back at Han.

What about him? You wanted to yell. Why are you only disappointed in me?

But the tears in your pillow have dried. Then fallen again. Then dried once more. And you found the answer to question five. And you miss Chan, terribly so.

That's why you're pacing around his dorm, at 10 pm, when it's also terribly cold outside. Your fingers have gone numb from the ministrations of the wind, but you don't move from your place. You know that the chances of seeing Han- the second person you’ve been avoiding like the plague- would be higher here. But you didn't care anymore.

Your thumb hovers over the call button and you bite your lip harshly. Would Chan pick up? Would he hang up? Was he really your friend out of pity?

"Yn?" a voice calls out, and you startle, turning around to see who it is. Changbin, carrying two bags of groceries in his hand. He's Chan’s friend as well, the final member of 3racha. You like Changbin. He's always being very kind to you. You've grown much closer to him than to Han in the past few months; not that the latter has ever wanted a friendship with you. From the day you met and his eyes narrowed promptly each time you talked. You should’ve known from the start.

"Why are you out here in the cold?" Changbin asks gently, stepping cautiously towards you.

"Chan," you say simply and he nods, understanding what you mean.

"He's not here now, but he'll come home soon. Let's go inside, okay?" he smiles tentatively at you and you hum in reply.

Changbin opens the door and you follow inside. You help him take out the groceries silently, stacking them in their fridge and shelves. Lots of protein powder, and chicken packets. You'd laugh about it if you weren't so sad.

"Chan misses you," Changbin speaks up suddenly, and your heartbeat quickens at his words.

"I miss him too."

"Then you'll be okay."

You try to remember Changbin’s reassuring smile when Chan finally opens the door to the dorm, an hour later. He finds you sitting on the stool in the kitchen. His eyes light up once they settle on you.

And you unravel at the sight.

You're crying, sobs rippling from you as he brings you to his chest. He's patting your head and whispering that it's okay. And you know his shirt is all crumpled from clutching it in your hands. But he doesn't mind. He only hugs you tighter.

"I'm sorry, yn. So, so, sorry. I should've stopped him before, I just... You two are my best friends and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by talking and-"

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm the one who should apologize for ghosting you."

"I understand why you did it. I fucked up but I missed you so much. Can we please never do this again?”

“Yes please,” you giggle, but the sound withers as the door opens once again.

"What is she doing here?" a cold voice breaks you and Chan apart, as your eyes land on Han. His gaze sucks the breath out of you, and the warmth in your heart fizzles out. Your hold on Chan’s shirt tightens and he takes an unconscious step in front of your body. Han doesn't miss the protective gesture.

"Get out, yn."

"You don't get to kick my friends out of my house," Chan is angry. And you regret ever coming here.

"Last I checked it's my house too." Han doesn't even bother looking at you. He's holding Chan’s gaze as if they're silently communicating. "You know damn well what she said why-" he takes a deep breath, running a hand angrily through his hair. "Fuck this. If she's not leaving then I am."

And with that he storms out, slamming the door behind him. You flinch at the sound.

Chan’s eyebrows are knitted as he stares at where Han stood seconds ago as if trying to conjure him up once again. You never wanted to strain their friendship. You knew how much Han cared for Chan, even if he didn't bear the same sentiment for you.

"Chan, I’ll leave. Call Han and tell him I'm gone."

"You don't have to."

"I know," you reassure, placing your hand on his forearm. "We'll talk more later, okay? It's cold and he has nowhere to go. Just call him, please."

"Fine," Chan concedes. "Call me when you get home, alright?" his eyes finally soften and you squeeze his hand in reply, before heading out as well.

The walk from Chan’s dorm to yours is fairly short, but tonight, it seems like kilometers are separating you from the safety of your bed. There is a heavy weight crushing your bones, most of it being guilt at what just transpired between Chan and Han.

That's what comes with being sensitive- you bear the weight of your feelings and the one of those surrounding you.

Were you out of place with what you said to Han? Yes. Was it eating you inside to see the consequences of your words? Yes. But he was also to blame, you repeated in your head. He was also to blame. Please. You plead, you don't know to whom, maybe to the voice in your head to stop being so mean. 'But none of this would've happened if you weren't so sensitive. So easy to bruise' the voice mocks and you stumble on your feet.

It happens so suddenly it takes you off guard- the way the breath is knocked out of you. You pause, chest heaving as you bend down slightly. Your hand is on your heart as you try to breathe again, but it's shaking so much. Your legs give out under you, and you plop down on the floor, eyes tightly shut. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to pass out.

"Yn, what-" A hand rests on your shoulder but you shake it off. You don't want to be touched. Not by him.

"Let me help-" Han speaks again, and you scramble away from him, as best as you can anyway. You end up kneeling on the ground once again, your back to him. "Get-get away."

"I know you're mad but you aren't okay and I know how horrib-"

"You aren't helping!" you shout through tears, as your heart threatens to spill out of your throat. "You’ve hurt me e-enough already."

You don't remember how you got home that night, how you managed to open the door or cross the road leading to your dorm. But you remember Han leaving you on the cold ground, just like you wanted. You remember the ache in your bones as you laid on your bed; the burning desire to stop feeling for a night, to cut your chest open and tear off your bleeding heart.

☄༄

One month later

If there's one thing you've always complained to Chan about, it's the fact that his building had an elevator in it, unlike yours.

Today, you’ve come to regret this fact. Tremendously.

You’ve been avoiding going to Chan’s dorm for the past weeks since the last thing you wanted was to see Han. But, he insisted on you coming over, reassuring you that it would only be him and Changbin at home since Han supposedly had other plans.

Well, Chan was wrong. Because Han just walked into the elevator you are in, mere moments before its doors closed.

Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock on yours. He looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it, opting for sighing loudly instead, before pressing the button leading to the fourth floor, rather harshly.

Your need to flee has never been this strong.

You watch anxiously as the numbers slowly go up. 1… 2… 3… Then a loud voice startles you and the elevator starts to shake in place. The door is suddenly opened and you are met with a cement wall, blocking your exit.

"What the fuck?" Han groans as you press the emergency button repeatedly, hoping that the elevator will resume its course and this nightmare will be forgotten.

It doesn’t.

"You’re going to break the goddamn button," Han pushes your hand away and you stumble away from him.

"Can you shut up? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit."

"Does it look like I’m happy to be here?" Han scoffs, as a ringtone plays in the elevator, cutting you off before you could respond.

"Hey guys, this happens from time to time, so no need to worry. Is everyone alright?" Someone speaks and you assume it's the worker charged with the maintenance of the elevator.

"Yes," you both reply at the same time.

"Great. We’ve contacted the mechanics but they said there’s a lot of traffic, so it might take a bit longer for them to get here."

"How long?" Han asks the question that’s on your mind as well.

"Two hours, at most, for you to get out."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you groan, as hot tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. This is the last thing you needed today- to be stuck in a cramped-up space with the one person who sucks the oxygen out of any room you’re in.

"Thanks, man," Han sighs and you turn your back to him, facing the wall. You’ve had a horrible day, scratch that, a horrible week. Hanging out with Chan and Changbin was the one thing you were looking forward to, only for the worst possible scenario to happen- being stuck in the same place with Han. You feel an urgent need to sob but you can’t cry in front of him. Not when he’s all claws and your skin is tender.

"Wait, are you claustrophobic?" He suddenly asks, seemingly inches away from your body.

"As if you’d fucking care," you scoff, before heading to a corner of the elevator and settling down.

"I'm not a monster, you know," he mutters in an almost sad tone, one that forces you to look up at him. His hands are deep into his pockets, eyebrows knitted as he gazes down at you. "Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?"

"Yes," you reply instantly, before staring forward again. The hurt that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does, ever so faintly, like the last wave that grazes your feet as you get out of the ocean. "I’m not claustrophobic," you add after a while and Han finally sits on the opposite side from you.

It’s hot and stuffy in the elevator, and it’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. You’ve never really liked silence for too long, it made the small voice in your head only grow bolder, louder, impossible to ignore.

Thirty-five excruciatingly long minutes go by and the tension only grows more suffocating. It’s simmering, barely beneath the surface, waiting for the person who will finally make it explode.

It’s Han.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Come on, we have nothing else to do.”

“Have you tried being silent?”

"Yn," he says sternly and you begrudgingly concede. "Fine. Ask me."

You imagine him smirking slightly, the way he does each time he manages to push you over the edge.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“We’re not doing this right now,” you shake your head, tone adamant.

"When’s a better time for it? We’re literally never in the same place."

“And whose fault that is?” You smile too sarcastically and he frowns. “So, I’m the only one to blame?”

“Can’t you see how full of yourself you are? Fuck, Han, this is exactly what I hate about you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You’re so immature, you never sit back to think of how your words might impact someone.”

"What words yn? I was teasing you!" his voice grows louder and so does yours. "You were hurting me!" you yell, chest heaving. There is something utterly terrifying in this confession- to let someone know how easy it was for them to get to you.

"But I didn’t mean to," he drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's not my fault you felt that way."

An ironic chuckle leaves your lips, as you point at him. "See, you're doing it again! You're blaming me for my reaction instead of evaluating how your actions might have caused it."

"Look, yn," he scrambles to you until there are only a few centimeters separating your bodies. "I really wanna fix this, okay? Can we stop screaming?"

"Why are you so hellbent on fixing it?" you question, as you lean further away from him. He notices and takes a step back, giving you space.

"Because although I don't care about you, I care about Chan. And this is hurting him. So, I want to be civil with you."

The mention of Chan feels like a cold bucket of water dousing the fire within you. You know he’s struggling to be in the middle of two people he loves. He doesn’t deserve that.

"Fine," you sigh softly. “You talk. I’ll listen.”

"I didn't... I didn't know that my words would hurt you. In truth, it looked like you weren't affected at all. That's why I kept pushing you because… God Yn you're so perfect it maddens me."

Your eyebrows knit together at his words- the last thing you expected to stumble out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"You never get sad, never get angry. Your emotions are always in check. You're always smiling, always laughing. Have everything figured out from how you want to be now to where you want to be in the future. And you know yourself, you never step out of order. And this is selfish and stupid but it irked me. Because I am the opposite of you. I'm a mess and too human it terrifies me, so I wanted to see if you had a breaking point. But each time I taunted you, you remained placid. So, I kept pushing to see if you'd break one day because, selfishly enough, that would make me feel better about how broken I am."

"Han, you're so stupid. Aren't you a literal genius? You excel in everything you do and you have fun on top of it, every single night. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"

"Do you really believe I find joy in being wasted and not even remembering what happened that night? I do that because I'm in my mind most of the days and it isn't the best place to be in. So, I like to forget."

“Why do you think I always bury myself in my studies? Because it's safe and it makes me forget too. Did you really think I didn’t feel? I feel too much and that’s the problem.”

Han remains silent as you curse under your breath. "Do you even realize how selfish this is? To test a human's breaking point? All because what? I didn't shove my struggles down your nose? Would you go around and do this to everyone who looked fine to you?"

"I know, I know, I was just in a bad place, and this isn't an excuse but I... I felt as if you were just showing me everything that was wrong with me."

"That is how I felt around you," you chuckle bitterly and he hangs his head low. He’s much quieter when he speaks again. “I guess we’re more similar than I thought.”

"Doesn't excuse what you did. You targeted me and made me feel insane because no one was hearing the hostility in your tone like I did."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I never thought it'd get this bad and I deserve every name you called me."

"You do." You close your eyes, as Han’s words wash over you. There is so much more you want to say, so much you want to spit out in his face because of his selfish coping mechanism. But you also want peace, for Chan’s sake. So, you try to bury your resentment, just like you do with every other feeling. One day it’ll turn into indifference. You’ll make sure of it.

You bite your lip, before clearing your throat. Your tone is softer when you speak again. "I'm sorry for what I told you in the library. About you dying alone and whatnot. That wasn't nice of me."

"You really hit the nail with that one," Han chuckles quietly, and guilt floods your heart at the expression on his face. "And I'm sorry for calling you boring. You aren't. And for everything I said before that."

"Okay. It's okay." You reassure, a tiny smile drawn on your lips.

He nods before a sly grin grows on his face. "Should we hug it out?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow at you and you stare pointedly at him. "Don't push your luck."

"Yes, ma'am."

An hour later, the mechanics finally manage to get the elevator going, which in turn allows you both to get out. Han opens the door to the dorm, and you find Chan lying on the couch, scrolling down his phone.

"Han? I thought you would..." he starts before trailing off as he looks up. "Yn? Where were you, I’ve been calling you for the past two hours."

"I didn't have signal."

"Why where were-" Chan goes to question before stopping once again. He hurriedly stands up and walks toward you.

"You... Are standing next to one another."

"We are," Han replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

"And you aren't... Fighting?" his statement comes out more like a question, which makes both you and Han chuckle.

"We aren't."

"We talked it out, in the elevator which we were both just stuck in," you add and Chan’s eyes grow wide, as a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.

"Oh my god. Finally. We'll talk about the elevator bit later but it's been so hard trying not to be in the same place as the both of you."

"We know. We're sorry," you both pout in sync and Chan shakes his head, before opening his arms wide. You giggle, before walking to him and sinking into his embrace. Han follows you shortly after, and your eyes meet behind Chan’s back. He shoots you a tiny thumbs up.

Is this how a dandelion feels, you wonder, when someone blows on it in the hopes it'll grant their selfish wishes. Only to be tossed away afterward, lifeless.

You drown out the thought before smiling back at Han. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

☄༄

Befriending two-thirds of 3racha holds within it a lot of privileges. The first one is listening to unreleased music, the second is having exclusive insight into their upcoming performances.

Their gigs don't happen as often as they'd like, because they're still students who unfortunately have lots of assignments. But when a window of free time materializes, they unveil their latest productions at vibrant parties, dimly lit bars, or even the occasional club. Which attracts a lot of people, some even coming from neighboring towns to listen to them play.

Everyone can recognize raw talent, even if rap doesn't happen to be their favorite genre.

This is how you know that they'll be performing Heyday, their latest creation, at Seungmin’s party. You've met him in passing, and Chan insisted that you'd come. Not that you needed much convincing anyway, you fell in love with this song the minute you heard it.

There is an exhilarating energy in Seungmin’s mansion, a palpable anticipation preceding 3racha’s performance, as you all gaze at the makeshift stage. The place is packed, bodies pressed tightly to one another. You feel slightly uncomfortable but you swallow it down. You're here to support Chan first and foremost, you can leave if things become too much for you.

The introductory chords materialize abruptly, and 3racha takes the stage. Chan is clad in a white shirt with huge gaps on his sides, revealing glimpses of his chest each time he bends down. Changbin, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is wearing a tightly fitted black shirt, hugging each muscle of his to perfection. Han, the last one to walk in, sports a loose black shirt, with a low neckline. His nails are painted to match the color of his attire, you notice.

The song kicks off with Changbin's incendiary rap as deafening cheers ring all around you. You make sure to scream on top of your lungs too, as Changbin’s loud voice commands the attention of everyone in the room. You’ve always held a penchant for his rap style- how powerful he sounds, and how addicted you quickly become to hearing him on stage. You remember once telling him that any song that starts with his rapping is a successful hit. He playfully nudged your shoulder but his appreciative smile was hard to miss.

Chan’s part is next and you try to rap along, as best as you can anyway due to your fleeting memory. It sounds mostly like gibberish but you don’t mind, especially when your eyes meet Chan’s and he grins at you, before morphing into the mesmerizing stage persona that's peculiar to him. You clearly remember the first time you witnessed him on stage, and how enthralled you were by the sheer power he exuded. His destiny was intertwined with music, no one could deny that.

A bed squeaking sound comes next, followed by the knocking on the door and you giggle against your will. That was Han’s ingenious touch, as Chan had shared when you'd raised a quizzical brow at him while listening. “Is this based on a real-life experience?” You asked, a knowing smirk etched upon your features, and he pretended to zip his mouth, earlobes turning a vibrant shade of crimson.

Han finally starts rapping in his inimitable style, exuding an effortless, laid-back aura. Your gazes meet at the "let's go play" line, and he tilts his head quizzically at you as he utters his confused "huh?". You raise one eyebrow at him prompting a sly smirk from him, before redirecting his attention to the opposite side of the stage. Yet, your eyes remain on him throughout his entire part.

The boys step off the stage, and you watch from the corner of the room with a wide grin as a swarm of people surrounds them. Congratulations and praise fill the air, and you can tell that 3racha thrives on this moment- it's what they live for, what makes their souls rise up from the ashes.

Chan catches your eye, and you applaud enthusiastically, letting out a happy giggle. He blows you a kiss, and you playfully pretend to catch it, eliciting a small shake of his head. Changbin, who's standing near him, catches the exchange and winks at you from a distance, to which you respond with two thumbs up.

Even though you're a bit far from them, you're certain the boys can sense the pride radiating from you in waves. There's something truly magical about humans existing in their element, particularly people you care about.

Your gaze shifts to Han, and your smile falters slightly. He's also glowing, but signs of discomfort are starting to creep onto his face. You recognize them fairly well, as you've felt them too at times when emotions become overwhelming. So, after a brief internal debate, you decide to act and begin making your way toward him, pushing through the crowd despite the rising complaints behind you.

They fall on deaf ears.

You grab Han's forearm, pulling him with you through the sea of bodies toward the bathroom. He doesn't fight, following diligently behind you. You open the door and pull him inside, pausing as you realize you don't have a specific plan for bringing him here. This is also the first time you've been alone together since the elevator conversation.

"Thank you," Han whispers, and you nod, your eyes softening. "I'm okay, I love performing, I just needed a breather," he quickly adds, as if feeling guilty for being overwhelmed.

"That's completely understandable. You are running on a lot of adrenaline, and the room is so crowded," you say with a smile, turning to the mirror to touch up your makeup.

Han remains silent for a while as you powder your face, before reapplying your cherry lip gloss. You can hear him taking in deep breaths, and you avoid looking at him, worried he might feel embarrassed.

"What did you think of the performance?" he finally asks, and you raise your head slightly. You lock eyes with him through the mirror, as he leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. His black t-shirt falls a bit, revealing more of his bare skin, and your eyes trail down for a moment.

"It was really good. I think this song might be my favorite of all yours."

"Really?" Han grins, his words filled with an excitement that warms your heart despite yourself. He's just received heaps of compliments from hundreds of people, yet your words still seem to affect him deeply.

"Yes. I loved your rap, how it started in a laid-back manner, and then you cleared your throat and picked up the pace. It added a unique edge to the song."

"Thank you, really," his smile is genuine, and you giggle softly, shaking your head.

"What's funny?" he asks, walking up to you. You're still facing the mirror, and he's now only inches away from you.

"I didn't imagine you'd appreciate my compliment this much."

"It feels sincere," he shrugs and you nod, finally turning around and leaning against the sink.

"It is sincere."

"Good."

You hold his gaze, eyes only trailing down to go across his face. He looks far different from how he did on stage. Shier, more eager for praise.

"You have..." he steps up until the scent of his cologne tickles your nose. His hand raises ever so slowly to your face, and you hold your breath, as he picks up something from your cheek. His hands are warm.

"An eyelash fell. Make a wish."

A surprised chuckle escapes your lips. "You wish on fallen lashes?"

"You wish on everything when you need hope." his voice is low, a timber so foreign to your ears it sends shivers down your spine. So, you close your eyes, wishing for your heart to quit beating so fast.

"Done," you whisper and he blows the single lash away, his gaze still on you.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course. I had to support Chan and Changbin." It slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and Han slightly recoils from your words.

"Right, them. Yeah. Of course," he finally backs away, and oxygen fills your lungs once again. "I'm good now. Should we go out?"

"After you," you nod tightly and he walks ahead first, his perfume trailing after him and pulling you into a dizzying dance.

☄༄

The party Seungmin hosted was your last time having fun for a while. Your preparation for midterm exams began soon after, and you found yourself swarmed with assignments left and right. Thankfully, you and Chan were going through it at the same time, which meant you met at the library each day, revising silently near one another.

Except this time, you were joined by Han.

Goosebumps ran across your skin as he pulled the chair next to you, not the good kind of shivers. You were reminded of the fight you had right here, three months ago. Which still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You don't hate Han anymore. He's actually funny, and you enjoy listening to his ramblings when you go over to Chan's dorm. He's also really different in his home, much quieter, and softer. Much more like you.

But you're also human, and there is still a part of your brain sending off warning signals at his presence. Maybe because the hurt was never buried properly. You just brushed it off under the carpet after your elevator conversation. Most of it was spent shouting anyway.

"Hey," he greets and you just nod in reply. You can feel his gaze linger on you a bit after that, and a pang of guilt twists in your heart. "Hi," you finally reply, but you tune out his response. Why is it that you're sensitive to everyone's emotions but your own?

Twenty minutes go by, then forty, and you can no longer take the uncomfortable feeling clinging to your skin. So, you excuse yourself, hurriedly stepping out of the library.

Han follows you; you can tell it’s him because someone's chair scraped loudly against the floor as soon as you stood up, and that couldn't be Chan because he is always careful with the silence in the library. So, you put on your headphones and walk faster.

This is childish, surely it is, but you can't control your emotions. You've apologized and so did he, you talk from time to time and you even held his arm and took him to a quiet bathroom. So where is all this bitterness coming from?

"Dammit, yn, how are you so fast?" Han grabs your arm pausing you. He's panting slightly and you just blankly stare as he takes in a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks and you nod, turning around to walk away. He stops you again.

"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?" he asks quietly, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead wearily.

"You didn't do anything, I just... Being in that library reminded me of certain things."

"I know. Me too. Can we please talk?"

"We are talking," you raise your brows and he stares pointedly at you. "Come on you know what I mean."

"Fine," you giggle, "we can talk."

"I didn't apologize properly to you in the elevator. Truth is, I did it because Chan was mad at me and I couldn't stand it anymore."

The bitterness- you understand where it comes from now.

"But I am sorry. Truly sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and this will sound like a joke, but I hate hurting people. I really do. I was just too wrapped up in my problems that I didn't realize how it would affect you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I also shouldn't have tried to kick you out that day, but dying alone is my biggest fear, and seeing you in my home made me want to lose my mind because I couldn't get what you said out of my head, but it was so cold outside and again I shouldn't have told you to go out and I am so sorry-"

"Han, breathe," you smile, cutting him off and Han sucks in a deep breath, chest slightly heaving from talking uninterrupted for a minute straight.

"I'm sorry I just wanted to apologize, properly this time. I'm doing it because I'm guilty, not because of Chan. Nothing excuses my behavior, I know. And I wish I could turn back in time and actually get to know you because you're really cool and very nice, but I can't. All I can do is apologize. So I'm sorry, Yn. I really am."

"I appreciate it," you smile, and Han exhales a little from relief. "I didn't know that was your biggest fear, but even if it wasn't, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said something so mean. So, I'm sorry for it too. But I'm not apologizing for being mad, you deserved that."

"I did, I did, I know." He's quick to agree. "I don't want us to be awkward around one another. I'm not telling you that you have to be my best friend but, we can be friends, right? But you also don't have to. It's enough if you forgive me and... You know what? Never mind forget I said anything, I'm just nervous and-"

"Okay."

"Okay?" he repeats.

"We can be friends. I accept your truthful apology."

"Actually?"

"Yes."

"Like we can start over?" he grins and you chuckle at the excitement in his face. "Yes."

"Can we hug it out?"

"Too soon," you pout and he nods, a faint blush dusting his cheek.

"Right. Should we go back to the library? I saw that you were stuck on a question. I can help you."

"You won't make any comments?"

"No. Pinky promise." he outstretches his pinky towards you and you muse over it for a bit, before wrapping your finger around his. You grin at Han- your first genuine smile since he's known you. His hold on your pinky falters.

"Okay. I'm in."

.☄༄

Five weeks later- 1:13 a.m.

You were still slightly cautious near Han as if you were both threading along an invisible line. You could talk, but not too much, afraid any old animosity would shine through. And you could stay together, but not too long, in case it gets awkward and you wouldn't know what to do. So, you never mixed, just like water and oil, each of you knowing their place, away from the other.

But you still didn't want to miss out on outings with your friends. So, when Chan invites you for a movie night with Han, and Changbin, you don't say no.

The night runs smoothly, the warm beer you had easing your nerves bit by bit. It was also easier to forget that you once hated Han when he brought tears to your eyes from laughing so hard.

2:56 a.m.

An unbearable heat suddenly envelopes you, your very blood boiling from within. You hesitantly look down, to find your entire body bathed in red, as if your skin had melted away, exposing you to the scorching heat embracing your tender flesh.

You are in the heart of a volcano, with lava bubbling dangerously below. Hanging by a frail thread, you dangle over the edge of death.

And then, you plummet.

You startle awake, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand clutching it tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, and it takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe, far from the inside of the volcano that had threatened to consume you.

You glance at your phone- 3:43 a.m. You read. It's only been a mere hour since you went to sleep. You don't think you could drift back into slumber.

Dragging a hand tiredly across your face, you walk into the pitch-black kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of water, hoping that the icy drink will cool you down. You are safe.

"What are you-" you startle, dropping the glass and spinning around, hand pressed to your heart.

"Han, fuck, you scared me," you sigh, tugging at your hair slightly and he's quick to your side, a string of hushed apologies tumbling from his lips.

"I'm sorry, here let me clean it up," he kneels and you follow suit, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "No, I dropped it, let me clean," you reassure, but your hands are trembling as you pick up the shards of glass, any bit of logic clouded by your racing thoughts.

Your heartbeat's ringing loudly in your ears, you barely register the glass cutting your skin until an uncharacteristic warmth oozes from your hand. Blood.

"Shit," you curse lowly and Han illuminates the place with his phone flashlight. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks and you shake your head, walking over to the sink.

"It's nothing, don't worry."

"Yn, let me see," he's standing behind you, the ghost of his breath grazing your exposed neck.

"Han, really it's-" he cuts you off, grabbing your forearm and walking you over to the couch. He finally turns on the lights before crouching down in front of you.

"Show me?" he asks gently and you're too tired to fight him. You open your palm tentatively, taking a look at your cut for the first time as well. It's not too deep, it won't require stitches. But it's also not shallow, blood oozing from it at a steady rhythm.

Han simply frowns upon gazing at your wound, before walking over to his room. You don't move from your spot, gaze lost into the space before you. What would happen if you never woke up? Would you feel your flesh burning? Bones melting as the searing lava-

"Here," he gently holds your wrist, as his eyes meet yours. "This will hurt a bit. Hold my arm as tight as you want and tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"

"Okay," you simply nod.

He dabs up your cut with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. You hiss softly, as the liquid burns your open skin. Han abruptly stops at the sound. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just-"

"It's okay," you smile reassuringly, "I can handle it."

Han nods, resuming his treatment. He's even softer this time, if that is even possible. He's careful when he rubs a soothing gel on your cut, before wrapping your palm in a gauze. He can't find a pair of scissors so he cuts it with his teeth, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. You account the warmth you're suddenly feeling to the aftermath of your nightmare.

"Why are you even up?" he finally asks as he settles next to you on the couch, eyes looking up to the ceiling.

"Nightmare."

"You’re okay?" he asks gently and he sounds truly concerned for your well-being. You aren't used to this. To Han acting like a friend to you. But it feels nice to be cared for, so you don't mind him blurring the lines tonight.

"I'm still a little bit scared," you admit sheepishly and Han's eyes soften under the dim moonlight.

"It passed. You're okay now."

"Am I?" you drag a hand tiredly across your face and Han frowns, inching closer to you.

"Is it a recurring dream?"

"Mm. It tires me out."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just want to forget." 'Help me forget' you want to add, but you decide against it. "Why were you up, anyway?"

"I got inspiration for lyrics so I had to write it down."

"Can you share some with me?" you ask, tone a tad too hopeful. Han catches it and smiles warmly at you.

"Sure. This is probably going to be in the chorus..." he pulls out his phone, heading to his notes app. "This is what I have so far... I let my frustrated screams out hoping that they’d be washed away in the rain. I send it off with a smiling face, down to the last drops left on my fingertips." he pauses, scrolling down a bit more. "I also wrote this; I think it'll be nice in a verse... I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."

"You're such a talented lyricist Han," you whisper in awe, and Han’s cheeks warm up at your words, reminiscent of a setting sun. "But I also wish it was as easy as this. To let out all the emotions you bottle inside and for them to wash away with the rain." You bite your lip, as Han’s words echo in your head. "I think... I think that's why I get this nightmare. I don't free my emotions anymore, and they show up in my dreams to torment me."

You don't know where these bouts of honesty are coming from. Maybe because you're too weary to keep up a happy facade. Or maybe because you know that the person who wrote these lyrics must understand exactly how you feel.

"Well... It's raining." Han whispers after a while and you look at him, confusion plastered across your features.

"And?"

"Should we test it out?"

"Test what?"

"Screaming under the rain," he says as if it's the most evident thing in the world.

"What? That's insane, Han we will get sick and..." You pause, as the words dissolve in your mouth like the seafoam meeting the shore. "You know what? Let's do it!"

"Really?" he asks incredulously, a huge grin on his face.

"Yes!"

"Okay, let's go!"

You both abruptly stand up, still only clad in your pajamas. You quickly slip your shoes on before running outside. The rain envelops you in a cold hug as soon as you step outside, rain droplets trickling down your clothes. You don't mind, you have lots of bottled-up feelings to free.

"This needs music," Han smiles as he takes out his phone, putting his playlist on shuffle. 'Let The Light In' starts playing, and you shoot him a thumbs-up.

"It fits the rainy mood," you grin and he nods, squinting his eyes to be able to look at you.

"I think if we scream here, we'll scare the neighbors."

"I know!" you chuckle, wiping away the rain droplets on your forehead. "Where should we go?"

"The empty parking lot!" Han shouts so you'll hear him over the growing rain and you nod. He takes off running and you chase after him. You're both completely drenched once you're a bit far away from the house. But you don't care. Not when there is pure adrenaline rushing through you.

You finally stop, loud giggles escaping your mouth at the thrill of what you're doing. "You should start!" you yell excitedly and Han nods, taking in deep steadying breaths.

"Okay, I'm ready!"

"On the count of three! One... Two... Three!" and Han shouts at the top of his lungs, his screams getting lost in the rain. An incredulous smile breaks out on his face as you giggle loudly, the sound of it ringing out in the downpour.

"You looked insane!"

"I feel insane!" He yells honestly and a fit of laughter takes over you both. You hold his arm to steady yourself.

"You should try it now!" Han urges and you nod, willing yourself to calm down.

"Okay, will you count down for me?"

"Yes," he assures and you clap excitedly. Han can't help but smile at the excitement on your face.

"One... Two... Three!" And you shout, continuous screams spilling from the depths of your soul. Han wasn't wrong- your pain, your fear, your anger are all dripping along the rain droplets, from your bruised heart to the tip of your fingers.

You've never felt this free before.

The two of you don't notice the passage of time, the rain acting as a cathartic release to all your pent-up emotions. It was as if your pain intertwined with each rain droplet, and you were letting go of everything that had held you down. Each scream acted as a break from the burdens of the past, and the worries of the future.

As you finally stopped, panting and soaked to the bone, you looked at each other with raw exhilaration in your eyes.

"So, how was it?" Han yells over the rain and you break out in a relieved smile. "I don't think I’ve ever been this happy my entire life," you beam at him and the sight makes the rain feel less colder to Han.

He watches, a small smile on his face as you twirl around, face looking up toward the sky, a deluge of rain grazing your cheeks like a lover's tender touch. The smile doesn't leave your face as you spin around, happy chuckles leaving your mouth from time to time.

You look... free. As if there was an invisible weight on your shoulders that the rain washed away. A heavy burden that you carried within you, like a secret secret. He likes the sound of that. Maybe that's what he'll name his song.

Han slightly shakes his head as he watches you skip around, clothes completely soaked. You are now standing a bit far away, right beside a street lamp.

Ooh, let the light in

Its light shines on you alone.

Time seems to slow down, as Han’s steps falter. You're smiling, not at him, but at the universe. A happiness so raw filling you that it needs to come out, even if no one's watching.

You're spinning around, delighted giggles spilling from you like the most mesmerizing chorus. Something is building up inside Han, begging for a release. It refuses to come out in a scream- violently. It's tender and soft. He thinks that if you held his hand right now, you'd be able to free it.

Look at us, you and I back at it again

Is it possible to feel something other than an emotion? Because right now, weirdly, all he feels is you.

Cause I love to love to love to love you

I hate to hate to hate to hate you

Your eyes land on Han and there is pure joy dancing in your pupils. He's glad you no longer despise him. He doesn't think he can stomach it anymore.

Cause I want to want to want to want you

You run to him, holding his hand before twirling him around.

I need to need to need to need you

Han can't believe he ever thought you weren't human enough. You are a mosaic of every feeling that makes one human. There are lyrics writing themselves in his head and they're all about you.

Ooh, let the light in

You clasp both his hands, before crossing them over. And then you're both spinning around until the world around you blurs. All he sees is you, and the light surrounding you alone.

Ooh, turn your light on

He thinks he might, if the light is you.

5:22 a.m

"There is a heater in my room, you should come," Han offers as you dry your hair with the blue towel he just handed you.

"It's okay I’ll stay here," you point to the couch but he shakes his head adamantly. "You'll die from hypothermia. Do you know how mad Chan will be if I let you pass away?" he whispers in fear, a hand clutching his heart.

"So dramatic," you giggle, before following him into his room. He goes on his bed first before tapping the spot beside him. You sigh before lying next to him, snuggling further into the hoodie he gave you to change.

"You're still shivering," he remarks, as your teeth clink together.

"It's okay."

"You shouldn't have gone out with just a t-shirt."

"I didn't exactly plan on this, you know," you smile sarcastically and Han chuckles before tapping your shoulder softly.

"Come closer."

You debate for a second before complying, the cold tuning out all the rational thoughts in your head.

Your arm brushes against his and you can't breathe once again. But it's a different type of deprivation. Han always seems to steal the oxygen from your lungs, but for once, you don't mind. Red embers are burning within you and their flames keep you alive. You press your chest to his back, as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Maybe he'll turn you to ashes. Will you rise from them?

"You're so cold," his hand reaches behind to rub your arms soothingly, an earnest attempt to warm you up.

"I’ll be fine, go to sleep. Don't worry about me."

"I can't control it."

In the dark room, Han can't see you curling your hand into a tight fist at his words.

"If you stay quiet then I’ll sleep," you say after a while and Han giggles softly.

"That's the goal. You need to rest."

"You should sleep too."

"I will."

"Okay. Good night, Han."

"Good night, Yn."

You think he's fallen asleep when you speak up again. "Hey, Han."

"Yes, Yn?" He replies instantly, voice slightly hoarse.

"Can you repeat that lyric to me, about the flowers blooming again?" You ask quietly, and you feel him nodding against your chest.

"I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."

His warm voice vibrates within your body. "That's a nice lyric."

"I hope you'll dream of it instead."

☄༄

Against Han’s strong belief, he's the one who fell sick after your rain-soaked outing.

You knew of it from Chan, who texted you saying that Han caught a nasty cold, and then got food poisoning, which meant he couldn't be there for their highly anticipated meeting—after their electrifying Heyday performance, a record label expressed strong interest in signing them.

"Can you come over and stay with Han?" Chan implores as soon as he answers your call.

“That bad?” You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.

"I don't want to leave him alone. He's been really sick for the past week now, and… it's partly your fault"

"I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me into coming," you chuckle even though you know he is right. Han wouldn’t have gotten out in the rain if it wasn’t for you.

"I'm sorry it’s just I don't think he's been good, apart from the illness. And I’m worried, and I don’t know I thought maybe you could talk to him. He reminds me of you, in his sadness, so you might understand what's wrong more than me."

You think it over for a second before rising up from your bed.

"I'm coming"

As soon as you step inside their dorm, Chan pulls you for a side hug, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, clearly grateful that you agreed to come. It worries you even more for Han.

“No problem. You can go, I’ll be with him.”

“Thank you, Yn” Changbin smiles before hastily pulling Chan outside the door. You wave them both goodbye.

You cautiously crack open the door to Han’s room, to find it completely engulfed in darkness. The stream of light from the door falls upon Han, who squints his eyes, trying to see who disrupted his fragile peace.

"Hi," you speak softly, finding it a bit odd to raise your voice in such a still room. Han attempts to sit up, before doubling over, hand tightly clutched around his stomach.

You rush to his side, kneeling beside his bed. It's the only lit-up part of the room.

"Still hurts?" you ask, your hand moving in soothing circles on his back. He nods, eyes squeezed shut, and you feel your heart crack at the sight.

"Have you taken any medicine?"

"A few hours ago. I need to eat something before I can take more, but I can't get up to the kitchen."

"Why didn't you tell the boys?"

"Didn't want to be a burden."

"You aren't. I'll make you something to eat. Okay? Try to sleep meanwhile."

"You don't have to," Han shakes his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I know," you smile softly, before exiting the room.

Minutes later, you're back in the room, a bowl of sliced fruit in your hands.

"Do you guys live off protein powder and frozen chicken?" you ask, earning a quiet laugh from Han as he lays his back against the headboard.

"We do. Please save me," he jokes and you laugh, shaking your head. "Good thing I grabbed some fruit before leaving."

"Thank you," he grins, eyes slightly squinting closed.

"Here," you grab a strawberry, bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows raise up in surprise, a sheen layer of sweat coating them. "What? Look at how tightly you're clutching the comforter," you point to his hands and Han sighs, before parting his lips slightly.

His mouth brushes against your fingertips, igniting a cascade of emotions in you. You'll think about what it means later.

You grab a green grape next, feeding it to him gently. A drop of water trickles down the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your finger.

"I can- I can do it," Han mumbles, voice wavering like an unpredictable storm. His trembling hands reach for the bowl, but they struggle to hold it right.

"Han, it's okay, I don't mind," you try to keep your voice gentle, sensing that there is an impending doom awaiting just below the surface.

"No, I- I need to do it. Just let me-" A tear falls into the fruit bowl. "Let me do it, please. I can- I can do it, I’m not useless, I…"

The floodgate opens.

A stream of tears escapes Han's eyes as he looks down at the bowl between his hands. He's crying, eyes tightly shut and the small whimpers escaping his lips feel like a dagger piercing your heart.

"You're sick. Let me take care of you."

"It's horrible horrible work." His voice cracks as his eyes finally lock on yours, and you can tell that his anguish isn't about his illness. These are the words of the shadows threatening to swallow him whole. You have to fight them off with the light.

"I will do it."

As Han lays on his bed, the sound of you washing the dishes resonating from the kitchen, your voice bounces off the dark walls in his head. You didn't try to convince him that it was easy work, you told him you'll do it, even if it's horrible. You'll do it because you want to, not because you can, not because it's accessible. The thought sends a warmth in his chest. It's faint, like a flickering candle trying its best to withstand the wind. But it's there. He holds on to it. He'll shield it with his cupped hands so it wouldn't fizzle out.

"Hannie, you’re okay?" you peer into the room. Hannie- the candle's flame grows higher.

"Mm," he hums, too weak to turn and look at you.

"You're shivering," you remark, and he tightens the blanket around his body. "It'll pass."

You stay silent, and he thinks you've left the room. But then he feels the left side of the bed dip, with you climbing tentatively on it.

"This worked last time when I was cold," you smile softly at him, before bringing his head to your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He feels frail and fragile in your embrace. You hug him tighter to you.

"Warming up?" you ask and he nods against your chest. He's burning.

"Try to sleep," you urge quietly, your hand moving to pat his back. "It will pass."

"What if it doesn't?" Han asks faintly. Please don't let the candle die, he wants to plead.

"There is always light at the end of the tunnel."

"What if the tunnel is closed?"

"Then you go back to the start and find a new one," you respond.

"Can I find it later? I'm so tired tonight." His voice is drowsy, sleep already clinging to his achy bones.

"Just rest for now. You did well," you scratch his back lightly, as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck.

There was never a candle to begin with- you were the light.

☄༄

Had someone told you five months ago that you'd be lying on Han's bed, watching "Howl's Moving Castle" at 2 a.m., you would've thought they were utterly delusional.

Yet, here you are now.

A lot of things had changed since your rainy outing with Han, as if the universe had shifted into alignment, two stars in the sky finally colliding and making way for something new. You saw him under a different light, understanding that no one picks up a dandelion unless they desperately need the solace it provides.

You've grown to care for him, in the course of the past two months. And funnily enough, you've started to like who you were next to him- just yourself, with no pressure of making conversation, or catering to his expectations of you.

He saw you at your worst anyway, and so did you, there was no use in filtering things anymore.

You've been there through the entire process of writing, composing, and producing Secret Secret- the song whose lyrics had captured your heart. You didn't expect him to ask you to be there with him, he just shot you a text, three days after you came over to his house. 'Wanna be there while I work on the song? I know you liked the lyrics.' It was an offer you couldn't pass up on.

You weren't, in your opinion, much help. Han was gifted in the music realm and song-making flowed naturally from him. But he noticed how interested you were in music, so he called you over each time he worked on the song, even asking for your input at times.

That's why, when the song was finally done and released on 3racha's Spotify account, you decided to celebrate by baking him a cake. You may have dropped an eggshell in the batter (you recovered it later on), and the icing's color turned out less vibrant than what you hoped for. But you managed to adorn it with a garden of little flowers, and with store-bought icing, you wrote the words "after the rain flowers will bloom again."

You showed up to the dorm and Changbin pointed you to Han's room, where he had apparently been holed up all day. You shot him a grateful smile, before pushing the door open with your foot.

"What are you doing here?" Han asked, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

"Surprise!" you grinned, pushing the cake his way. "Congrats on making Secret Secret."

"Are you serious?" he chuckled, jumping out of his bed. He peered at the cake, eyes softening as he gazed down at the design.

"You drew a little garden..." he whispered in awe and you nodded, a faint blush creeping up your face.

"I'm glad you recognized what it was. I'm not the best baker," you admit a bit shyly but he shook his head. "It's perfect. I can't believe you did this to celebrate our baby!"

"Your baby," you corrected, although the use of 'our' warmed up your chest, weirdly enough.

"You were here with me every step of the way. She's ours."

"It's a she?" you giggled, and he smiled proudly.

"Mm. Do you accept being her mother?" he mused; hands clasped in front of his heart like he was praying you'd say yes.

"It would be my greatest honor," you nodded solemnly, and he let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing the cake from your hands and setting it on his bed.

"Should we hug it out?" he teased, arms stretched wide but you merely stared at him, unimpressed.

"Come on," he whined, "you can't reject me for the third time. And, in front of our child. On her birthday!" his tone grew louder and you couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage.

"Try harder."

"Our child won't know what a loving parent relationship is and then she'll seek out unhealthy love from the ones around her and-" you cut him off by finally wrapping your arms around him.

You've always known that being near Han left you breathless, but this time, it felt as though he was breathing life into you. You close your eyes instinctively, as his hold tightens on you. He smells immensely nice, like pinewood and soap. You should've hugged him sooner.

"Thank you," he said quietly, forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.

"You did well," you whisper back.

"We did. She's our child, remember?" he reprimanded and you laughed faintly.

"Yeah, ours."

Hours later, the movie's credits finally roll down, and the finished cake sits idly by Han's desk.

"I should go," you rub your eyes tiredly, and Han stares at you as if you are out of your mind.

"At this hour? Do you want our kid to lose her mom?"

"Han," you drawl, hitting his head with the pillow next to you. "You can't hold me hostage."

"I can, as your husband."

"Since when are we married?"

"Since you agreed to be Secret's mother." Another playful hit to his face.

"Stop attacking my face, how will I get laid then?"

"So, you are cheating on me?" you ask, feigning outrage.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby you're the only one I want." You falter at the nickname before hitting him even harder, matching the tempo of your quickening heartbeat.

"You're crazy," he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you onto the bed. He's hovering over you, eyes hooded with a tender intensity as he gazes down at you.

"Will you stay, please?"

"The couch is uncomfortable," you reply, avoiding his eyes. He lets go of one wrist before holding your chin gently, urging you to look at him.

"You can sleep here. We've done it before."

"You were freezing both times. That's why I did it."

"I'm very cold tonight," he pouts, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.

"Are you now?"

"Very much so."

"Fine. Only because I don't want you to die from hypothermia."

"Thank you!" he grins excitedly, finally letting go of your wrist. You bring a hand to your flushed cheeks, as he tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in your direction.

"Get changed! There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet."

You make sure to groan theatrically, before heading into the bathroom, where you splash your face repeatedly with water. You aren't used to this- being a blushy mess, because of Han, nonetheless. It was dizzying you, how things took the complete opposite turn between you and him.

At least, back then you weren't alone in your hate, you couldn't stand being alone in your affection.

So, you'd stop this, whatever feeling that's coursing through you. Tomorrow, you will firmly close the door on the blooming feelings within you. But tonight, you’d both lay on the same bed, arms brushing against one another. It's completely dark and quiet, but there is an entire symphony playing within you.

"Thank you for today," he whispers, turning around and tucking his arm under his head, this way he's facing you.

You mirror his actions, and your fingertips brush against one another. You can't see him but you can feel him. He's everywhere, wrapping around all your senses.

"Thank you for making this song. It's very comforting to me."

"Why is that?" he questions, inching closer to you, you can feel his minty breath fan all over your face.

"I’ve always felt like I carried too many emotions within me. Like a volcano, bubbling over until the day I explode. I never liked feeling this way, so I tried to hide it," you confess softly.

"Like a secret secret."

"Like a secret secret," you repeat, glad that he understands.

"You don't have to hide with me," he says after a few silent beats, and you swallow nervously.

"I know." you lick your lips as the music inside you grows louder. "Still cold?"

"A little."

"Come closer," you beckon, and he complies instantly, wrapping his arm behind your back and drawing your chest close to his. Your legs entangle with one another, as your face lays on the crook of his neck. It's intimate, far more than any time you've done it before. You don't want to sink in his hold in fear of never resurfacing again.

"Good?" he asks, voice tinged with a newfound raspiness.

"Mm," you hum, and he releases a relieved sigh.

You've once read that everything in this universe sings. Every atom's vibration creates a sound, contributing to a grand celestial chorus. It's an unscientific, but lovely thought, to wonder who our hearts sing for.

Right now, it's for Han.

☄༄

The music echoes through your being, an ever-present melody that refuses to fade into silence. Even with no audience to enjoy it.

Han always found his way back to your side, no matter how many times you've tried to distance yourself from him. And you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him, because you were friends, first and foremost. And friends don't abandon one another just because a mere glance at them sprouts a blush across your cheeks.

That's how you find yourself on your way to Han's dorm, for the third time that week. Watching movies together has become your little tradition, for the past few months, and sometimes even Chan joins in. Although he mostly enjoys shooting you a knowing smile, to which you flip him off.

Your phone rings and Han's name illuminates your screen. You smile against your will.

"Can't wait to see me this much?" you singsong and Han's chuckle rings through the phone. It's rich and deep, causing you to tighten your hold on the device.

"Yes. And can you please go to the store? I'm out of snacks."

"What do I get out of it?" you muse, changing directions to the nearest convenience store.

"Snacks."

"Asshole," you giggle on your way to cross the road.

"And my eternal gratitude of course."

"Right, because I can't-" Loud tires screech right beside you and you startle, letting out a loud yelp as you drop your phone.

A hand on top of your heart, you bend down to pick up your fallen device, as the driver gets out of the car that grazed your body, mere inches away from hitting you.

"Are you okay, miss? I'm sorry I didn't see you." The middle-aged man is quick to your side, and you glance at the small kid in his car, willing yourself to calm down for their sake.

"I'm fine. Just a bit startled. Drive more slowly, there is a kid with you."

"I know, I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his stressed features and you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Just pay more attention to the road, okay?"

"Thank you so much. Thank you," he clasps his hand in gratitude before getting back to his car and you wave him off, your heart still wildly beating in your chest.

You head into the convenience store, picking up the snacks you know Han loves before paying for them. But as soon as you step back outside, you spot a disheveled Han crossing the road, sprinting toward the store. His pace quickens upon spotting you.

"What are you..." your question is cut short as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest instantly. You can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart, and you're confused as he pulls away, hands cradling your cheeks and turning your face left and right.

"You're alright, nothing happened to you, right? You’re okay?" he inquires urgently and you let out a confused giggle, as you grab his arm to steady him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard the tires screech and you yelled and then you didn't pick up when I called and I thought-" his voice cracks. "I thought something happened to you."

"No, no. I'm okay. Nothing happened, I promise." you reassure, as he brings you to his chest once again, his hand smoothing the top of your hair.

"I was so scared," he kisses your temple, as his thumping heart resounds within your chest. "So terrified that something would happen to you. I thought I'd lose my mind."

"You don't mean that," you shake your head slowly, peeling yourself away from him.

"Can you really not see how much I care about you? How I crave being near you?" his voice raises a slight octave. The music in you picks up.

"How long do I have to pretend to be cold to have you nearby? For god's sake, I'm never cold around you, yn. When I see you, I ignite." He takes in a deep breath, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. "And I... I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you. I... You drive me crazy, Yn. When we became friends it felt like I was stepping inside a home for the first time, and yet I already knew each turn in it."

He grabs your arms, shaking you slightly as his chest heaves up and down. "My darkness recognizes yours and my light is you and you- you think I wouldn't care if anything happened to you?"

He shakes his head as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Has his music always been this loud, were you just not listening properly?

"I'm scared because we didn't start well and I understand if a part of your heart still resents me, I do. But I don't think I can pretend anymore. Not with you," his voice softens as his gaze locks on yours.

"Were you pretending too?" He asks, hope dripping from his tone. "Do you feel it too?"

A split second goes by. A candle flickering somewhere. A dandelion plucked from the ground. The shadow of a cloud passing over the sun- and you pick.

"I feel it too. So much that my heart feels like it’s singing for you, Han."

"I'll sing for it in return," he whispers, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hand slides up the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You drop the bags of groceries as you cradle his cheeks, feeling them warm up beneath your touch. You can't believe you've ever disliked your heart for feeling too much, not when the lovely emotions flowing in your heart threaten to burst it at the seams, submerging you in a warmth you've never known before- Han.

Two months later

You have 3 new messages from: hannie

"kept this song a secret from you baby but i wrote it for you so you can't be mad"

"i don't know if you remember but you’ve once told me that you are a volcano. as if that’s something that’s supposed to put me off. well, some people dedicate their lives to studying volcanos. and i would dedicate mine to learning you."

"Volcano.mp3."

Light.

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chrollc · 2 months

Text

need 3 more seasons of their slow burning disney if you can hear me….

#the acolyte spoilers #the acolyte #osha #osha aniseya #oshamir #qimir #osha x qimir #qimir the acolyte #star wars qimir #star wars #qimir x osha #mae aniseya #sol the acolyte #the acolyte fanart #oshamir fanart

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softfem-dom · 3 days

Text

random xmen hcs 'cause i'm bored <3

✰ Logan is a loud burper. like yknow those annoying kids that try to see who can burp louder/for longer? yeah, that's him.

✰ Hank was (and is still somewhat) obsessed with puzzles. I will not elaborate.

✰ Cyclops is the most dirty minded out of the team. Like somebody can be like "eww, it's wet" and he'll be there grinning like a fucking 11 y/o.

✰ Charles likes to talk in students' and teachers' minds and say some shit like "I know what u're doing" when he knows there's someone roaming the school after hours. ^he also used to do the shit of "I know what u are" when he was younger.

✰ Rogue and Kitty did that trend with the "run fast for your mother, run fast for your brother" (or smth like that) in which they do a handshake and then start running.

✰ Bobby does that 'styling my hair' thing when he's in the shower.

✰ Storm can and will turn the lights off when walking out of a room when there's still someone inside just to tease them.

✰ Logan never closes doors. Everyone is starting to suspect he does it just for the hell of annoying them.

✰ Kurt always has a bowl of cereal as a midnight snack. Eats it crouched over the counter too.

✰ Jean has helped students with impulse dyeing their hair more than three times.

✰ Logan has cero space awareness and he'll sometimes bump his shoulder/arm against the doorframe or random furniture.

✰ Cyclops is the type of dude to walk with his arms completely outstretched infront of him and bent knees whenever inside a dark room.

✰ Kitty likes Sanrio, Cinnamonroll is her favourite. ^ Logan calls Kitty 'hello kitty' from time to time just to piss her off. ^kitty absolutely hates this.

✰ Quicksilver tried the mixing an energy drink with sour gummies and will prufosely go out of his way to tell everyone not to do it. ^still nobody knows what happened.

✰ if it was set in the 2000's, Rogue would definetely be a creepypasta kid (but the actual creepy stuff, not the fanon). ^Kitty would be a fanon creepypasta kid, her fav were jeff and nina (she's basic).

✰ More than three different kids have asked Hank if he was the Beast from the disney Beauty and the Beast movie😭

✰ Jean collects the cake-stand figurines from the birthdays celebrated in the school.

✰ Logan hates white chocolate with a burning passion.

✰ Kurt only eats the white cream from the oreos. ^Logan eats the cookie.

✰ One time Cyclops frustrated Logan so much that he real close into Cyclops face to argue with him and Cyclops blurted out "you look like you want to kiss me". ^Logan punched him in the gut after that comment.

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drysdalesworld · 8 months

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i loved what you wrote about the boys with super energetic kids but what about them with kids who are the complete opposite? like a very shy, quiet kid

them with a shy, quiet child

i was planning on doing this anyway but i love that you asked for it bc i wasn’t too sure if anyone else wanted that as well. hope you enjoy! <3

the boys with a shy & quiet kid (+ x fem!reader)

the boys with a shy, quiet daughter:

JACK HUGHES

— is so patient & gentle with her it’s crazy

— ^ like he’s so careful with his words when speaking to her & always makes sure that she’s comfortable

— speaks for her when she’s too shy to speak. like when the three of you are out at a restaurant & she’s too shy to tell the waiter what she wants, he’ll do it for her & always makes sure to ask her exactly what she wants beforehand so there’s no mistakes when ordering

— holds her hand when she gets anxious & squeezes it a couple of times to make sure she knows that he’s there for her

— she much prefers you over jack due to how calmer you are as a person but he doesn’t mind at all. if anything, he’s glad that she’s able to find solace in the reader as he can only imagine how hard it is to be shy & quiet as a child

— he genuinely tries to be more calmer & quiet in her presence. it’s a work in progress

— jack often finds himself going to quinn for advice on how to do better with his daughters shy & quietness. he only wants to do good by his daughter & it shows in his actions

— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other

— will literally wear a princess dress to the movies if a new disney movie comes out & she decides it’s her new favorite princess & wants to dress up. he has no shame

— during the summers, he makes sure to lather her in sunscreen. he’s deathly afraid of her burning so he goes the extra mile

— ^ tries to convince her to go wake boarding with him but she always says no. until a couple of weeks into the summer months, she finally agrees & has a blast as jack holds her tightly & does all these cool spins & tricks on the board

— he 100% always joins the readers & their daughters nap times when he gets back home from morning skate. the sight of the two of you wrapped up & cuddled around each other is so cute & makes his heart melt

— jack makes sure to give her a puck before every home game & blows her a kiss before skating off. he also makes sure to dedicate his second goal to her, his first dedicated to you always

KIRBY DACH

— she’s so small in comparison to kirby it’s insane

— he always holds her close wherever they go together. since you both live in montréal, & it’s cold, he always bundles her up so it’s quite funny to see him carrying just a ball of wrapped baby

— kirby’s so much more gentler & quieter with her. he can definitely tell when she’s having a more quiet day & is the best in making her comfortable

— 100% tries to help with her shyness by signing her up in sports or other activities to try to get her out of her shell

— ^ you once suggested summer camp & kirby was super hesitant about it but she ended up loving it so much that she couldn’t wait for the next summer. kirby lowkey felt sad at that bc all he wants to do is spend time with his baby girl & her going off nearly every summer for however many weeks just goes to show how much she’s growing

— whenever she gets nervous or eerily quiet, he holds out his hand for her & just dance around with her. it never fails to put a smile on her face & always gets her out of her funk

— kirby made her a bracelet when she was younger & she wore the shit out of it. it’s now just string but she always played with it whenever she got nervous or approached a new person at school in hopes of being their friend. she still carries it around with her for comfort

— is so supportive in whatever she does

— ^ she wants to play pickleball instead of hockey? he’s already checking out all the gear she’ll need. decides last minute to wear a princess dress instead of her school uniform? he’s asking her which dress she wants. she wants to try to make a friend by herself at the park? he’s sitting back & observing w/ a smile on his face

— kirby’s very big on communication so he always makes sure to check in on her & her feelings. it’s gotten to the point where she’ll just tell you how she feels instead of reader or kirby having to ask

— is also the type of dad to have matching costumes with his daughter

— ^ one year they went as (pink) kirby & princess daisy. it was so fucking cute. it’s one of your lock screens in your phone hehe

— is the one to wake her up in the morning & ease any anxiety she has about school or making new friends

— ^ he’ll brush back the hair from her face & softly speak to her as she voices her concerns & he’s so good at proving that she has nothing to be afraid of. he also makes sure that she’s confident in whatever she wears so kirby allows her to choose her outfits (she’s a little fashionista fr)

NICO HISCHIER

— mans will be the gentlest giant with her

— ^ cuddles 24/7 & nothing but affirmations from this man

— he can understand how hard it is to be so shy & quiet so he always tries his best to make little goals with his daughter in hopes of breaking her out of her shell

— ^ he’ll ask her what she wants to achieve that day on their way to school. it can be anything ranging from making a flower crown to asking someone to play with her during playtime. he’s always so proud of her when she runs up to him after school with the biggest smile on her face, telling him what she achieved that day

— nico’s heart always warms whenever he sees reader & their daughter together. she’s a lot like you & he’s so proud & thankful that he’s been blessed with this kind of life

— encourages her to go to practices with him whenever she’s allowed to

— is def the dad to be up on the stage with his daughter during her ballerina recital

— takes her to new places for exposure & although it’s nerve racking for the both of them, it’s something that neither of them will forget bc of the fun memories

— she does eventually “grow out” of being quiet & shy. she’s got a lot more tools to work with when she’s anxious or feeling shy & nico is always there to help her whenever she needs it

— plays with her hair when he sees that she’s going back into her shell

— ^ he allows her to do so most days but he knows the importance of building up your confidence when young & making friends so he plays with her hair for a bit while he talks to her to bring back up her mood. it usually works

— 100% the one to talk to her about her anxieties & make her feel better about them after

— nico tries everything to get her more out of her shell. he puts her into sports he thinks she’ll enjoy. makes sure she goes to her classmates birthday parties. all that stuff with different goals in mind so even if she doesn’t make a new friend, she’ll still have something to be proud of herself for

TREVOR ZEGRAS

— tbh, he has no clue what to do lol

— he’s learned a great amount of patience with his daughter

— he def tries to understand why she’s so quiet & shy. this leads him to reading about it more & seeking out answers on what he could do to accommodate her more

— trev 100% had to go to jamie for help since they’re both alike in personality. he’s such a big help

— will do anything to protect her & make sure she’s comfortable

— ^ whether that be in his arms or by herself, he’s ready to do whatever

— practices speaking up for herself. trevor will be so much more talkative about how he feels & what he’s doing throughout the day w/ her that she’ll eventually pick up on it & do it herself

— ^ if she’s not confident enough to verbalize it, she’ll write it & sometimes he & her go back & forth with letters. reader got the whole family a notebook so they all can communicate through that if verbalizing it is too hard

— mans literally shed a tear when she made her first friend

— the entire ducks team adore her

— let’s her take the reins in some things. it gives her the confidence to do things for herself & he can see the change in her behavior when she has more control over certain choices

— if she’s feeling shy or anxious, trevor will suggest they play hide ‘n seek or another game to get her mind off things or to simply just make her laugh & have a good time

— always on high energy when he wakes her up & sometimes she bounces off him with it but most often, she doesn’t so he has to check himself a lot & be a lot more calmer around her in the morning

the boys with a shy, quiet son:

JAMIE DRYSDALE

— is so happy to have a kid just like him. he literally looks just like jamie & acts like him it’s kind of eerie

— before jamie leaves for morning skate, he always presses a kiss to the crown of his sons forehead, whispering a promise of coming back & waking him up for breakfast

— ^ jamie takes great pleasure in waking up your son every morning after he returns from morning skate. he just looks so cute with his dark hair all sprawled about, still wiping the sleep from his eyes as he reaches out for his dad. jamie always chuckled to himself as he takes his son into his arms & rubs his back soothingly, making his way out to the kitchen where you are

— you & jamie are one of the only people your son plays with so it’s always a hassle to try to encourage him to play with other children his age

— ^ the one time it works is when jamie took him to the park & started talking to one of the other dads there. his son saw him talking to someone new so he decided that if his dad can do it, then so can he. he made two friends that day & they regularly go on play dates

— you always encourage both jamie & your son to be more friendly & talkative as you know it would most likely help them break out of their shells a little bit

— he put your son into hockey in hopes of him coming out of his shell a little bit & it def worked. jamie sometimes has to drag your son off of the ice bc he doesn’t want to leave just yet

— he’s really only friendly to certain people like trevor or mason since he’s known them since he could remember. it’s just other people he’s super hesitant about but both him & jamie are working on it together!

— loves loves holding him & taking him everywhere

— he always talks to him too about whatever & his son usually responds talking about something random. it’s how he developed his rambling habit whenever he meets new kids lol

— when he got traded, jamie was really nervous to see how your son reacted to the change since it was so sudden & abrupt. but he surprisingly took it really well. he even said hi to some of the other players after the game, head buried into readers collarbone as he waved to those walking passed him

— ^ the flyers def love your son & always include him on their “barking”. once he gets comfortable enough, he just kind of screams instead of barking but the whole team just eats it up & loves it, cheering him on

LUKE HUGHES

— he & his son are one in the same

— ^ they have the same facial expressions for everything & it’s too funny when they overhear someone saying some random shit & make the exact same face

— your son may be shy & quiet but he’s also calm & mellow. he speaks through his eyes & facial expressions

— ^ has a rbf & is not afraid to use it (especially if someone’s bothering him or you lol)

— reader 100% believes that her son is an old soul & is just done with living. like little dude barely tries to make friends (granted he is shy & it’s a little difficult for him) & just doesn’t have much to say & when he does, he has you reevaluating your life after a conversation

— lukes fav thing to do with his son is put a shit ton of blankets on the couch, make a fort, & watch his favorite movies while snacking on mac n cheese & homemade cookies. they do it nearly every night luke’s home

— he’s super gentle & patient with him as he tries to navigate his shyness. luke encourages him to make friends but doesn’t pressure him at all & also puts him into sports in hopes that he makes them naturally through that

— ^ & it does work! he’s made so many friends through hockey, soccer, baseball, etc.. although he is still quite shy & quiet during his games, which he is actively working on

— whispers to him when he’s overwhelmed & rubs his back in comfort as his son crawls into his arms

— puts him to bed & reads him bedtime stories

— at the lake house, luke is ever the more observant & cautious with his son. he makes sure to put sunscreen on him & that he always has his hat on to protect him from the sun

— ^ when he asked luke if he could go wake boarding with him, he nearly squealed in excitement. his son doesn’t really feel comfortable trying new things so this is a HUGE step in the right direction. holds onto him so tight as he giggles whenever luke does tricks. he has such a blast

QUINN HUGHES

— these two are a mirror image of each other it’s insane

— ^ ellen pointed it out to you a few weeks after you had given birth & you can’t unsee it (your son & quinn are twinsies fr)

— even tho his son is shy, he highly encourages him to make some friends in pre-k but assures him that he should take it day by day & that he’ll always love him no matter what

— definitely tries to make him less anxious by taking him in his arms & giving him raspberries in his neck or on his stomach. it helps take his mind off of whatever he was thinking about

— his son always wants to see him right after quinn’s games, which isn’t always possible so sometimes he has him join him for interviews. just quinns presence makes his son calm

— ^ quinns def encouraged him to answer or speak into the mic & his son is always a blushing mess after he says hi into it, hiding his face in the crook of quinns neck as everyone awes

— quinn always has a hand on his son. whether it be on top of his curly hair or on his back as his soothingly rubs it. he always has to have a hand on your son as quinn knows that he’s his son safe person. it makes the both of them feel better

— always tries to include him in everything (when it’s appropriate) so he’ll def bring him to events or practices. it exposes him to more things & it eases his sons anxiety with stuff like that

— 100% does arts & crafts with him. it’s so fucking cute istg

— when he’s old enough to understand certain words, quinn will tell him about his struggles with being a quiet child as well. he wants his son to know that he’s not alone & never is

— gets him a bear that has a voice recorder in it with the both of you saying “we love you bud! you got this!” that he plays every morning & it 100% makes him feel better about whatever he was worried about

— his son’s biggest cheerleader fr

— ^ the loudest you will ever hear quinn be is at his sons sports game or when he gets an award. he’s so proud of him & all of his progress, no matter how great or small

LUCA FANTILLI

— is off the walls ecstatic to just have a child really

— loves him either way

— luca is definitely his sons safe person so luca always has him in his arms or has a hand on his head as he clings onto his leg

— always refers to him as “buddy” or “my little buddy”, which gets him out of his shell sometimes since he wants to be just like his dad

— so so patient & understanding

— ^ will sit by his son as he’s trying to express himself without feeling nervous & lets him take his time. also helps him through his emotions as well

— encourages him to practice his “social skills” on him so he can remember what to say or do when he wants to make a new friend

— takes him to practice when allowed & just lets him chill or play around with the pucks

— ^ the entire umich team loves loves your son & although he is shy, they always make an effort to talk to him or fist bump him every time they skate by him. they respect his boundaries 100% too

— ^^ monday questions with him is always 50/50. sometimes he’ll be up for it & other times he won’t. but when he is, he’s so cute & giggly as he answers the question (most definitely copying his dads answer)

— reader is the one to wake him up more often than not & he much prefers it that way. you’re much calmer than luca at times so your son loves to just cuddle up to you as you pick him up & make your way to the kitchen where luca is making breakfast

— luca has him do the “shakes” whenever he’s feeling anxious about something

— ^ he told his son that it helps with getting the nerves out & he’ll absolutely just start shaking his arms or whole body out of nowhere to get rid of them

— the king at back rubs fr

— gets all papa bear when he hears from his sons teacher that some kids were making fun of him for being so quiet. luca literally gives a stern talking to to their parents & tells his son that bullies only do that to make themselves feel better since they feel “bad/insecure” about themselves. him being shy & quiet is something that he shouldn’t be ashamed of as it is apart of him & luca & reader love every inch of their son, no matter what

— posts “ootd” stories on his insta & hypes up his son as he poses & giggles

— always makes sure to shower his son in praise whenever he achieves a goal or makes a new friend. he’s so excited for his little buddy & his progress!

COLE CAUFIELD

— is surprisingly good at this for some reason

— knows all the tricks to encourage his son to get out of his shell & interact with others

— ^ you’re suspicious of him sometimes bc whatever he does or suggests always works. it’s like he’s psychic or something

— if he’s not having a good day, cole will gather his son in his arms & hold his close to his chest. sometimes he even puts his sweatshirt over him as he’s wearing it so he feels even safer

— cole throws ice cream parties whenever his son makes a new friend or talks to someone for longer than five minutes

— ^ you think it’s a bit excessive but start to see the progress he’s making in breaking through his shell so you don’t stop cole from continuing to throw them. you eventually find it super cute & heartfelt

— def encourages him to find something he’s passionate about to take his mind off whatever he’s feeling anxious about. sports is something he wants to try so cole sort of threw him into whatever sport he thought he’d enjoy

— ^ soccer is something your son enjoys as communication has to be constant between all the players & it encourages him to be more vocal

— is really good at implementing coping techniques/mechanisms for his son if he ever needs them. lowkey a therapist fr (he’s got extensive knowledge about this shit that you sometimes wonder what cole would be like as an actual therapist)

— gets super excited when he does something out of his comfort zone & makes sure his son knows how proud of him he is

— is super patient & understanding

— it’s a tradition for cole to take him to practice once or twice a month (or week) & the boys absolutely love your son!

— ^ little dude is a completely different person on the ice it’s insane. all of his shyness & quiet tendencies disappear & he just has so much fun that it sometimes makes cole tear up with pride & happiness

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ribbonprincess · 7 months

Text

Bf!rafe headcanons

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

•pretend not to care about your shows, but then he'll stand behind the couch mumbling under his breath things like: "can't believe she did that"

•will let you wrap ribbons around the loop of his shorts and pretend he hates it,but get super mad when someone makes fun of it

•actually asked for your help for buzzing his head

•never let you open any door for yourself,if you actually manage to do so,he'll groan and close it back just so he can open it for you.

•Will wrap an arm around your shoulder and use his hand as a cover for the low neck of your top. "This is ridiculous,doll- you're tits are basically out,might as well go around naked"

•will absolutely get mad if you buy any substance from someone else

•cries when watching Disney movies with you but will never tell you (you secretly know but never bring it up)

•teaches you how to self defend yourself,even arriving to teach how to use a gun. "there's bad guys around,sweet cakes"

•can't cook for his life. He tried to bake a cake once for your birthday and Ward came out of the office because he thought a fire was going on,he just burned the cake...badly

•got promise rings after 3 months of dating, he's just obsessed

#rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron thoughts #🎀princess #rafe cameron

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brujaluas · 2 months

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What character would you be if you were in Disney?

or if you were in an animation/cartoon?

pile 1

very sweet but strong and at the same time undeniable energy, they fantasize a lot about the things around them and about people, a young person who has many chances in life but needs patience.

You would definitely be one of these three that I put in this pile, the prince (seriously, have you read the book Beauty and the Beast? It's perfect, it made me dream!) here would be for people who feel awkward, misfit and mainly judged too much.

pile 2

we have villains here in this pile, a person very surrendered to their own desires, everything is very intense, they want to conquer and be on top of everything they know no matter what the cost, obsession with something or someone, red is very important in this story of yours. a romantic relationship can be their torment.

notice how red is everywhere, in Cruella, her song came to mind, we also have Dracula with all his torment that I mentioned and the RED QUEEN with an arrogance typical of villains, you dominate the room when you enter, even if it's just so people turn up their noses when they see you, red burning their eyes.

pile 3

hmm some would be warriors who are not afraid of anything, or in fact they may have problems along the way but always try to face their fears with their heads held high, and some here are spoiled and rich in a fun way

I wasn't going to put Diana, but when I saw it I was writing her name without even thinking, so I'll put it, we have Mulan and her Shang, I love this movie and this couple so much, they are so cute and different, imagine if you and your partner choose this same pile? We love empowered couples.

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months

Text

Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we exit the “enemies” phase, think of the enemies to friends as the match being lit and think of the friends to lovers as the candle taking thousands of words to burn. Chapter title from Homemade Dynamite by Lorde

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Things start to change in the safe house. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Somehow, after the mission, you slept. Not well, but you did. You didn’t see Soldier Boy for almost fourteen hours after that odd moment in your room, only for him to suddenly drop on the couch next to you, watching the newly-fixed TV, holding a bowl and spoon.

“What the fuck is this,” he gestured to show playing on the screen, his mouth half-full with cereal. Crumbs fell into his beard, and he looked at the TV as if it had personally offended him.

You answered slowly, glancing between his loud, sloppy chews and the milk in his bowl, sloshing up to the sides as he settled into his seat. “Netflix.”

“That’s a stupid name for a show,” he snorted. “What does that even fucking mean?”

You shook your head. “No, the show is called Santa Clarita Diet. I’m watching it on Netflix.” He gave you a glance with a frown but remained silent, raising his eyebrows as you stared blankly.

His voice was clipped when he spoke. “What the fuck is Netflix?”

“Oh, um, it’s like a network. Like a modern TV station. It has a bunch of movies and shows, but you don’t have to wait for a certain time to watch them.”

“Huh,” he looked back to the TV. “Cocksucker mentioned something like that. I thought he was making shit up.”

“No, on demand is a pretty common thing now.” You shrugged.

“So all TV is on Newflux?”

“Netflix,” you corrected, growing more and more bemused by the conversation. “And no. We kind of just reinvented cable in a different format. There’s like a million of these websites, Vought even has their own. From what I can tell, the CIA gave us Netflix, Max, Disney, and Prime.”

“They’ll do that, but they won’t buy me weed,” he grumbled. “Fucking uptight pussies.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t get us ad-free Disney or Prime, so I wouldn’t hold your breath about them giving you drug money.”

Soldier Boy only grunted, attention fixated on the TV. The silence between you stretched as you tried to figure out a perfect, organic way to bring up the whole “I told you what Homelander did to me and you put away groceries without me asking, what the fuck is happening” thing. Just as you were about to say something, hoping that the words would find you in the moment, you were cut off.

“What the fuck is this even about?” Soldier Boy asked with a sullen voice, still not looking away from the show.

“Uh, suburban zombies. I can change it if you want.” Anything, you thought, to keep this lack of antagonistic conversation going.

“No.” You waited for more elaboration but realized he wasn’t going to offer any, having fully turned away from you. You both remained on the couch, his eyes locked to screen as you remained in your seat, afraid to move and ruin whatever was happening.

The episode ended without any outbursts from either you or Soldier Boy, and you reached for the remote, only to be hit in the head by a soggy cheerio.

“What the hell?” You picked the cereal from your hair, turning to see Soldier Boy’s frustratingly casual expression. “What was that?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, nodding his head to where your hand had been on the remote.

“Why did you throw cereal at me?!” You snapped, holding the now mushy projectile to his face.

“To get your attention,” he answered, giving you an odd look. “You always get all bitchy when I touch you.”

“Oh.” You hesitated, your confusion only growing. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I can’t read your fucking mind. If it’s because of the Homelander thing, though, then you should remember-“

“No,” you rubbed your face in frustration. “Why did you need my attention?”

He rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to keep watching this shit. It’s the least stupid thing I’ve seen so far. But you should fucking remember-“

“You could’ve just said that instead of throwing shit at me-“

“Would you fucking listen?” His familiar angry glare was beginning to form, so you closed your mouth. “If the touch thing is because of that Star-spangled pussyfuck Homelander, I meant what I fucking said last night.”

Your body tensed, trying to recall what he might be referencing. Last night, along with the previous twenty-four hours, had been replayed so much in your head it had become a simple blur of bad. "What you said?”

“I’m no rapist. I’m not an ugly pussy asshat who needs to.”

You look at him with an incredulous gape. “Needs to?”

“No part of sex is fun if she doesn’t want it. I like my woman begging me to keep going, and I only bite if they ask.” He gave you a brash grin. “I’ll show you whenever you want, Sunshine.”

“Charming,” you said under your breath, employing your now expert skills at ignoring his advances. “Would you like a trophy for the bare minimum?”

“I’m fucking serious.” He hissed, smile dropping, catching you off guard with the intensity and firmness of his expression. “If that’s why you’re so fucking annoying about me touching you, get over it.”

“Get over it?” You give a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? First off, it has nothing to do with Homelander. Second off, if it did, I’m not going to just ‘get over it’ because this is 'annoying' for you.”

“Well then, what will make you get over it?” His question, though impatient, was said with a face of biting sincerity. At least, the closest thing to sincerity you deemed him capable of.

You tilted your head at him. “It’s not something I can get over.” Before he could respond, his mouth opening with a frown and squinted eyes, you continued. “It’s one of my powers. I can feel people’s emotions when I touch them, even if I don’t want to. I can’t turn it off, or ‘get over it’.”

His mouth remained open for another second, and you could almost see his brain slowly turning in his head. You waited, your own mind spinning with possible reactions he might meet you with. Wrathful shouting, angered distrust, cold disgust, forceful words and distance.

“Do you not like what you feel from me?” He asked, no twisted fury on his face, eyes filled with that analytical, intrusive look.

“No, that doesn’t matter to me. It's intrusive, and usually people don’t like when I do it, so I just avoid touching anyone.”

“But you can’t fucking control it.” His words didn’t seem to be directed at you, but his glare made it feel like they were. “It’s not your fucking fault all those pussies have so many fucking secrets.”

You give him a passive shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still against their will.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he mutters. “For fucks sake.”

You tilt your head at him, unable to place where his disbelief and frustration was coming from, even more unsure who was facing the brunt end of it. “I mean, it can’t be that insane that people don’t like it. It’s not like you’d want someone poking around inside your feelings.”

“Sunshine, of all the things to care about, that is one of the most fucking stupid things I’ve ever fucking heard. No, I don’t care about you ‘poking around inside my feelings’, because I’m not a fucking pussy with something to hide.” He gives you another odd look, accompanied by a pause before he spoke again. “Is that where your name comes from?”

“My, my name?” You feel yourself pale, still trying to fully grasp his previous declaration.

He watches you through narrowed eyes. “Your supe name. The Anomaly.”

Your blood might have evaporated, a petrifying cold running through you. “Don’t call me that.”

“I heard MM and the French Prick using it.” He looked slightly thrown by your response, but didn’t stop pushing. “Is it a fucking secret?”

“No,” you answer, trying to keep your voice level, your words acquiring a rambling quality. “It’s completely accurate. I couldn’t think of better one if I tried. Having fou-“ you cut off your slip. “Three completely unique powers on top of the usual supe-sauce is… anomalous. But I fucking hate it. I- I really hate it.” You trailed off, rubbing your arms uneasily.

“Why? It’s just a fucking name.” His voice was casual, almost bored, but he’d leaned forward with feet firmly on the ground, waiting for your answer with an impatient frown.

You’d frozen though, as white walls and straps, cold needles and cuts, and expressionless, masked people above you flashed in your head. Ghosts of fear the first time, devastation the second, emptiness the third, and fury the fourth echoed through your body. Moments of violating change and feelings of uncontrollable, off-balance infestation in your body that would haunt you for the rest of your life. You turned to Soldier Boy, who was still watching with a deep crease in his brow as the TV show played in white noise, and forced words from your chest, to your throat, and out of your mouth.

“If the Russians gave you a name, would you want people to use it?” You said carefully, and watched his first clench at your question, the bowl almost cracking under his grip.

He kept your gaze as he responded, a cool, rough brutality in his words. “I would fucking kill the pussy who was stupid enough to mention it.” You give him a pointed look, and watch the understanding slowly fall into place in his head. All that left him was a grunt, and he turned his body and focused back on the TV, the conversation abruptly over.

The afternoon slipped into evening, the evening into night, and hardly any more words were exchanged. You said good night as you stood to retreat to your room, and he gave a muttered acknowledgment in response. Your sleep was poor but long, and when you walked out into the hall the following morning, you found Soldier Boy standing right outside your door. His arms were crossed, one hand holding the TV remote, and he spoke the moment he saw you.

“Where the fuck is the rest of it?” His intense, demanding tone was far too firm for how early it was.

You gave him a droopy blink, noticing the same shirt and jeans from the day before. “Did you go to bed at all?”

“No. Where is it?” You try to move past him, but he moves to block your path. “Where?”

You rubbed your face, trying to squeeze out the lingering and puffy sleep. “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“The show,” he spoke as if it were obvious, continuing to glower down at you as he waved the remote in your face. “You left, and then it was suddenly over and some weird fucking shit started playing. Fix it.”

You squint at him. “That show was canceled in, like, 2018. There isn’t any more.”

His expression was remarkably distressed. “Why the fuck would they do that?!”

“Netflix isn’t great at understanding popular demand,” you rub your eyes again as the dry of your mouth starts to fade. “But there’s like, an insane amount of shows out there. We can find something else.”

“Nothing else is good,” he grumbled. “All that played after was some stupid dating show. I had to watch a group of fucking idiots sit in rooms and whine about love all night.”

“You had to?” You roll your eyes with a snort. “What, did Butcher arrive with a gas mask and threaten to knock you out if you didn’t? If it’s so painful for you, just change it, or turn it off.”

He glares at your mockery, rubbing his neck as he mutters, “I don’t know how.”

"Huh?" His words had passed right through your ears as you tried and failed to keep your slugglish attention from drifting.

"I don't fucking know how," he practically barked, his face red as he refused to look at you. "It's my fucking fault technology is so fucking stupid now."

“Oh,” You feel a small amount of guilt as you realize that his scowl is one of embarrassment, his annoyed tone most likely rooted in frustration. “Wait, how have you been using it for two weeks?”

“I’d just hit buttons until something happened. It worked fine until you started that stupid Netflix shit.”

With a deep breath and sigh, you extend your hand for the remote. When he doesn’t move, you grab it from him with a tug and duck around him. “Follow me.”

Soldier Boy trails after you as you descend the stairs, stopping at your side as you reach the TV. You raise your arm to turn it off, but glance at his still-scrunched face, his bothered expression, and hand the remote back to him instead.

He stares down at his hands before looking back at the TV, then to you, his scowl only more confused. “Nothing fucking happened.”

“You’re going to do it.” You explain, pointing from the remote to the illuminated screen. “I’ll walk you through it, but you’re going to do it yourself.” “Fuck no,” he tries to return the remote to you. “You do it.”

You hold your hands behind your back. “If you want to live any sort of life in the 21st century after this, you’re going to want to know how to use a TV.”

“I can use a fucking TV.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “A shitty, twenty-year-old motel TV. Unless you want us to put you in a memory unit, gramps, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Bitch,” he grunts, but he stops trying to pawn off the remote.

“Cunt.”

His knuckles are white around the remote as he gives you an impatient, expectant look.

“Raise your hand like this, with that side,” you tap the head of the remote. “Facing the TV.”

He mimics your movements, and you give a nod of approval.

“Good, now hit that button.” When he doesn’t, you grab his finger and adjust to sit where you had pointed. “Ok, now that one.”

“Why are all these fucking buttons hidden and not labeled. Buttons used to be fucking labeled.”

You shrug. “For most people it’s intuitive, I guess.” You point to another button. “Now hit that one, and I’ll teach you how to search.”

This continues for another painstakingly drawn-out ten minutes. Once you’re absolutely sure he can passably navigate, raise and lower volume, and turn off the TV altogether, you step back.

“That’s it,” you offer him a grin. “Easy as breathing.”

He makes a grumbling, incoherent sound, dropping back on the couch. After a moment of staring at the menu on the screen, he looks up at you from his seat with an irritable frown. “You just going to fucking stand there?”

You blink at him, catch that his curt words are meant to be an offer, and move around the couch and to take the same spot you occupied yesterday. He offers you the remote back, and when you don’t take it he throws it onto your lap.

You give him a tired sigh. “The whole point of this-“

“I’ve never seen any of this shit. You said you’d find something else I’d like, Sunshine. Prove it.”

You raise your brows, but your protests die on your tongue, and you start scrolling through the display.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he grunts over your focus.

“What?” Half your attention still on the TV, you watch him shift forward in your periphery.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he repeats. “I’m not your fucking gramps.”

You glance at him, a hum of amusement leaving you. “You’re over a hundred. It’s not like you’re forty and I’m calling you ancient. Besides,” you give yourself a small smile. “Hughie told me about your little trysts with mature women. Mature woman, forty years your junior.” You stick out your tongue at him. “Cradle robber.”

“I don’t discriminate.” He says, leaning back to lounge on the couch. “And it’s not robbing the cradle if there’s no one that’s-“ he cuts himself off as he almost slips and admits your point. He gives you a glower, daring you to say something. “I’m not old.”

“Someone’s sensitive,” you mumble with a small, genuine smile, and before he can jab back, you hit play on a comedy special, turn the volume to max, and recline into the cushions.

The next set of days pass in similar fashion, and though Soldier Boy doesn’t stop grumbling insults and annoyances, picking small fights, or calling you a bitch, your childish psychological warfare has come to a halt, there’s no more throwing of chairs or explosions, and the word “bitch” off his tongue lacks the malice it did before. You quickly discover that Soldier Boy is a lot more like a toddler than anyone could have possibly guessed. You start leaving out snacks of cheese and fruit on the counter and rarely return to find it still in its spot. If you sit with him, he’ll stay shockingly still, but will make little snipes at the television. Sometimes you catch him after a comment, watching to see if you’re entertained by his words, and learn that even a vaguely amused smile makes him take on an overtly smug grin himself. At one point you start writing down a list of his less than progressive phrases, labeling it “Soldier Boy Racist Grampa Highlights," until he catches you, grabbing the list from next to you when he notices his name.

“The fucks this?” He’d asked as he scanned the page.

“I got bored,” you shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.

“This one’s not even that bad,” he pointed to a more recent addition, and you leaned over to read it.

“You called Hughie a cocksucking queer piss-boy. He’s not even here to defend himself.”

“So?”

You just gave him a flat look and returned your attention to the book you’d been skimming. You noticed him pocket the list, though, and over the next few days he started to pull it out whenever the apparently vital urge to insult someone showed its face. While the vulgarity didn’t decrease, the use of language you could only describe as tasteless and bigoted, did. Hughie even received a demotion to a “cocksucking pussy.”

He still rarely slept, instead locking himself in his room late at night and only emerging once you wake up. Once you pass his room on a 3am trip to the bathroom, walking in soft, toed steps to avoid disturbing him, only for the light leaking under his door to flood the hallway as he opens it.

“It’s not morning,” he watches you, leaning against his doorframe. “You should be asleep.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” is what you try to say. But between your clouded brain, restless need for the bathroom, and energy-drained body, what comes out is a string of sounds in a whiny tone.

“What was that?” His voice is taunting, but lacks any real edge.

“Cunt.” You mumble, trying to look at least a little menacing and, based off of what you think is a grin on Soldier Boy’s face, not succeeding.

“Bitch. You know, if you’re not tired, I’d be willing to help get you there.” He’s probably giving you a cocky, suggestive eyebrow wriggle, but between the sleepy squint of your eyes and light casting him in a silhouette, you really can’t tell. When you just make another mumble in response, he chuckles “Go back to bed, Sunshine, you’re going to collapse.”

“Nu-uh,” is all you can manage, and start to shuffle down the hall once more. When you emerge from the bathroom, your vision filled with spots after trying to turn on the lights only to be blinded, his door is closed once more, and you return to your room, collapsing back into useless, terror-fraught sleep.

When you walk into the kitchen that morning, the coffee pot is full.

———-

“What’s the third?”

You look up from your trudge through a CIA-provided, untranslated copy of Beowulf to find Soldier Boy staring at you from the door of your room.

“Third what?”

Taking that as an invitation, he stepped fully through the door to stand at the edge of your bed. “Third power. You’ve got your fireworks and feelings shit, what the fuck’s the third?”

You mark your page and meet his insistent face. “I told you that what, like ten days ago? Did you only now think to ask?”

“Nine days,” he says with an eye roll. “Don’t be fucking dramatic. And you got all pissy about your supe name. Not my fault I tried to respect your stupid fucking woman emotions and dropped it.”

You laugh. “First off, add ‘woman emotions’ to the list. And you totally forgot. I can see right through you, you just didn’t want me to make more old man jokes.”

“You’re fucking doing it anyway." He mutters, taking out the crumpled paper and a pencil from his pocket, using the wall to scratch the addition. “Would’ve been a stupid fucking plan, and I’m not a sensitive pussy who cares about jokes.” He shoves the list back into his jeans, and gives you a scowl as your grin spreads further across your face.

“Literally two days ago you threw a tantrum because I asked you what dinosaurs were your friends.”

“Are you going to answer my fucking question?”

“Fine, you baby,” you snort. “I can heal people by touching them. Technically, I transfer their injuries onto me, and then I heal so quickly it doesn’t matter. That’s mostly what I was doing for the Boys before this.”

“You were playing nurse?” He frowned. “When you can withstand a nuclear blast and are a fucking human molotov? That’s fucking stupid.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t really have any control over the fire. And I wasn’t just ‘playing nurse’, I helped with missions in other ways.”

“Really?” His tone was sarcastic as he gave you a doubtful look. “What, you were a human shield too?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter sheepishly. “But it was helpful."

“Sure, Sunshine. They must be torn up without you.”

You give him a scowl. “You know, I’m not going to tell you stuff if you’re going to be a fucking dick about it.”

He blinks, mouth curving down. “I was fucking joking.”

“Wasn’t funny,” you shrug, opening up your book. “Get out of my room.”

He doesn’t move. “Why are you being a fucking bitch again?”

You sigh, staring blankly at the pages. You’d admit, even from inside your own head, your anger had blossomed quite suddenly. But his accusations of your team being absolutely unaffected by your absence stabbed you somewhere in your chest, fueling that voice in the back of your head. It was getting louder, reminding you of all that damage in your wake—how your team walked on eggshells when they spoke to you and flinched when you touched them. “Human shield” was the best description of your place within the group. “Nurse” was too generous a term for a person they let touch and heal them only if the hospital was too far away and it couldn’t wait. On rare occasions you’d convince them to forgo their protests and just let you fix their wounds, but it took promises and pleas from you and exhausted caving from them. You look back up at Soldier Boy, who has remained in his place, eyes boring into you as you’d calmed yourself.

“I don’t like being useless.” You say softly. You know the admission could return to bite you in the ass should the peace you and Soldier Boy maintained the past week crumble, but he’d surprised you once. Maybe he’d do it again. “I don’t need you to remind me that I am.”

You watch his reaction, frown growing but fuming annoyance fading. His eyes were overtaken by a surly look you couldn’t figure out. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard.”

Your jaw drops, and that thing under your skin starts to claw against your skull. “Get out.” When he doesn’t move, your voice raises. “Get out!”

“Would you just-“

“Out!” You’re at a full scream now, chucking Beowulf at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Just fucking listen to me!” He’d stumbled back as the book hit, most likely out of shock more than anything else, but remained in your room. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice smoke starting to curl around you, but you’re too angry to try to calm it. He must notice it as well, because his face pinches slightly, no longer trying to move back to you. “I wasn’t done-“

“What, you got more stupid, cruel shit to say? About how I’m not just useless, I’m a stupid fucking bitch? A useless whore who can’t even cook? An uptight fucking prude?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!” He’s yelling too now, and suddenly you can’t move. It’s not like he’s never raised his voice before, having frequent appearances in your previous daily shouting matches, but this is different. This seeps through the air into your blood and head, shutting everything in you down until all that’s left is fear. Breathing is hard, your heart can’t seem to keep up with your lungs, and your anger is quickly turning into a light-headed, frantic need to go, go, go and hide, or to start clawing and clawing at whatever comes close until this feeling leaves. All of a sudden he’s right there, he’s in front of you and grabbing your arms, shaking you and saying something you can’t hear. Slowly, the tightness around you starts changing, becoming something solid, something firm. You’re annoyed and frustrated, but under it rests an urge to cover your hands in blood over something. Your fragile terror is washed over by a vigilant alarm, and everything suddenly feels sharper. As you emerge from your own brain, you notice Soldier Boy still there, his face level with yours.

“You’re fine.” It’s not a question. He’s telling you, and suddenly you realize that you are. And as you nod, you feel the distress in you fade into something like relief. Your head drops, and you tense once more as your eyes see his hands on your biceps.

“Um,” you look between his grip on your body and his face, drawn with a confusion you can feel in yourself. You gesture your head back down, his own attention following yours, and he lets out a grunt when he sees what you’re glancing at, dropping himself from you.

He draws himself up and turns, and part of you thinks he’s going to walk out the door and leave the rest of your fight for the morning. But he stops when he opens the door, and speaks without turning.

“You’re not useless. That’s what I was trying to fucking tell you. You’re certainly worth more than any of those preachy hypocrites.” Before you can ever open your mouth, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

You don’t sleep that night, laying in bed with the sheets feeling too warm and itchy, your thrashing only just slower than your restless thoughts. You stare and stare at the ceiling, trying to comb through the conversation and pick apart every second so you’d know just what to say when the dawn broke. You wanted to, needed to, make sure things didn’t go back to the way they’d been before. That had been exhausting, every part of your waking moments wondering who would blow up first, listing out hypotheticals to ensure that you would win any fight he offered you. You’d take the blame, a scratch in the back of your head told you it was yours anyway, to keep this truce. As the night moves, time becomes uncertain, hours, minutes, and seconds all feeling the same. Your dread turns to shame, to doubt, to a hot, righteous anger.

This won’t wait for morning, you decide. He doesn’t get to do this, make you sink down like this. It might have been your fault, but he doesn’t get to make you sit in it. You’re going to fix this or blow it up, and you’re going to do it now.

He must be up. He’s always up. You’d seen him “sleep” twice, both times in a frighteningly controlled manner, waking himself up the moment his breathing became soft. He’s certainly up, the light in his room is escaping into the hall, and you can hear him shuffling around, but, still, you knock on his door. When it doesn’t open, you knock again, then once more after another minute of inaction.

After the fifth knock, your patience a thin thread, you shout. “I know you’re in there, Soldier Boy! The light’s on, and I can fucking hear you! We need to talk!” The sounds pick up, but still the door is shut. “Let me fucking in, you ass!”

Nothing.

The thread snaps, and you push open the door. The harsh of the light blinds you for only a second, and when your eyes adjust, you're met with the sight of Soldier Boy, asleep, with his face in crumpled in a pained grimace. Sheet askew across the bed as he grunts unintelligibly, his body looks braced against something you can’t see. You’re frozen in your place near the door, agitation forgotten. You want to wake him up, because you know far better than anyone how real these things can seem, how the pain being your head doesn’t stop the echo of it in your body. You want to leave and never speak of this again, because there’s no way he receive you seeing him like this well. But what makes you decision for you, springing you from your rooted place, is the light in his chest starting to brighten as the room starts to hum.

It’s more instinct than anything—you know that the safe house and everything in it has been built to withstand this very thing, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you—as you run to the bed and shake Soldier Boy by his shoulders. When your skin meets his a rush of fear, pure and unbridled fear as strong as it had been from you hours ago, overtakes you. Fear and anger. You don’t think you ever felt this bloodthirsty, savage anger in you before. Your anger had always been cold and zealous, calculating tributes for your sorrow. This anger didn’t care. Somebody just had to hurt, and hopefully that someone would break.

If it’d been any other circumstance, you’d have been terrified by it. But you’re not, focused entirely on waking Soldier Boy up. Later, when several hours were between you and this moment, you’d deal with this. Maybe you’d even acknowledge how, despite the distance, you still may not be afraid of it. But now, with the light only growing, you let his feelings wash through you, and you do something drastic.

You pull back and slap Soldier Boy in the face.

He roars, eyes shooting open and glazed with a feral haze, his body jerking upright and grabbing you by the throat. Even as it happens, hindsight tells you that there probably were other ways to wake him up, but this was the stupid path you’d taken, and you unfortunately could not go back.

Before your vision could grow spotty, before your own fear and images of a flickering light above you could overtake your head, he let go with another shout. You scrambled back, realizing the fever in you had crept out of your spine, trading bruises on your neck for burns on his hands.

You watch him slowly regain control, his face dropping into exhaustion and his eyes searching the room—for what exactly, you’re not sure—and finding you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” The words are low and rough, and though they don’t sound like a question, you answer him anyway.

“I- I just wanted to talk, and you weren’t answering the door…” You trail off lamely, your words sounding hollow even to you.

He doesn’t yell at your though, or push you out. He just stares at you, as if you’re meant to continue, to try and justify your presence. But you just stare back, unsure if you want him to kick you out, talk to you, or just pass out and forget the whole thing.

Instead of those options, leaving you at yet another loss, he sits back and scoots over to the far side of the mattress. When you don’t react besides another prolonged stare, he gives a half-hearted eye roll and pats the space next to him. Slowly, slightly fearful of misunderstanding his gesture, you walk over and drop on the bed at his side.

He’s looking ahead, unreadable from only his side profile, when he speaks.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

You don’t stop watching him as you respond. “Does that happen every time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have anything else to say—any reassurance you can think of sounding stupid even in your head. So you wait, still watching him, and sit in the silence.

“Do you not have any?” His voice is strangely soft, though no tension has left his body.

You give a small sigh. “I do. But I’m good at hiding them. Stuff like that,” you wave a hand to his chest. “Only happens on bad days.”

“Bad days?” You can see his frown forming as his lips turn down, his voice growing deeper.

“On a few missions, I saw Homelander,” you whisper, now staring ahead yourself. “From afar. Really afar. I know he didn’t ever even see me, because I’m not back… there, but whenever I see him, apparently it’s enough.” You turn back to Soldier Boy, and are met with him watching you.

“Is that what yours are about?”

You give a small nod. “Different things happen, but it’s always him. Always there.”

“Hm,” his eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “How do you stop them?”

You don’t have to ask what he means. “I don’t stop them, I just keep them in here.” You tap your head. “And I think of before. About how it was.”

“That helps?”

“As long as I don’t let myself remember that it will never be like that again.” You can’t hide the pain the words give you.

“What was it like?”

“Before? It’s was normal,” you shrug. “Boring.”

He tilts his head at you. “Normal?”

“Normal,” you repeat, watching his face as you speak.

He frowns, and looks away. You notice him swallow heavily, glaring at the wall. “Like,” he swallows again. “Like what?”

“Well, I had parents. Siblings. I had friends, I worked, I went to school-“

“School?” He turns back to you. “You're an adult, did they make school fucking longer?”

You feel a small smile quirk your lip. “No, I was doing a postgraduate. I’d actually just finished. Technically, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Of Anthropology, yeah. I know less about human medicine than WebMD.” You pause. "That’s like, a website that’s famous for giving bad medical advice. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“And you think you know less than it?”

“Oh, I know I know less than it.”

He snorted, returning to watch the wall. “That’s fuckin ironic.”

You nod in amusement. “Yep.”

When you don’t continue, he looks back once more. “What else?”

“I lived alone. Small, shitty studio on the Upper West Side. I visited my dad in Boston once a month-“

“Just your dad?”

“Yeah, my mom wasn’t dead, she’s just a bitch.” You hear Soldier Boy cough what might have been a laugh, but you ignore it. “She and my dad divorced when I was like, ten. They had joint custody, but I stopped talking to her when I was fifteen.”

“Harsh,” he mutters. “What, she ground you one too many times?”

You decided that holding back about thing like this was a need long gone. “She tried to send me to a medical boarding school in the Berkshires.”

“What the fuck is a ‘medical boarding school’”

“Like a psych ward where they teach you math.”

“Huh,” he raises his brows at you. “You need one?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I already knew math.”

He stares at you blankly, a smile having crept onto your face. “You’re… making a joke.” He said slowly.

“Yep,” you nudge his shoulder with your own. “That’s what a good one sounds like.”

He lets out a low laugh. “That wasn’t that fucking good.”

“You laughed.”

“You can’t fucking prove it.”

You’re grinning fully now. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, gramps.”

He rolls his eyes. “So your mom’s a bitch, you lived alone, and you can’t even cook. That’s just fucking sad.”

“New York is famous for its food,” you mutter. “And I can heat stuff up, as you very well know.”

“You can’t coast on box macaroni forever, Sunshine.”

“Been working fine for both of us so far.”

He gives you an amused look. “You’re not trying to seduce me.”

“What the fuck does that have to do-“

“You don’t have to impress me,” he continues, unfazed. “Your cooking doesn’t matter. What’d you do when you were hungry for dick?”

You stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.” He only returns your glare with a cocky grin.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sunshine.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.

“Men aren’t big pussies about that stuff anymore,” you smile as his face drops at your claim. “And I never spent a lot of time being ‘hungry for dick’, anyways.”

“What, you have a loyal boyfriend?” he taunts.

“Nope,” you give him a grin. “But I had a sweet old lady in the apartment across the hall who brought me food every weekend. You’d have liked her, she was just your type.”

He grunts, but not with annoyance. “All I hear is no boyfriend, no friends, and can’t cook. Like I said, just fucking sad.”

“I had friends!” You protest. “We’d do karaoke every Friday!”

“You can sing?”

“Nobody who does karaoke can sing,” you dodge with ease. “But we had fun.”

He lets out a labored breath, and when he turns to you this time, you notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Would you go back?” He asked. He was watching you so carefully, and you once again are left confused by the look in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could.” You answer, your voice sounding far away, a memory of a gravestone flashing in your head. “I don’t think it would be fair to them.”

“Fair to them?” He gives a doubtful huff. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Really?” You challenge. “I don’t think it’s stupid to not want to pull the people you love into this shitshow. I got a chance to keep them out of this life. Most people aren’t that lucky.”

Soldier Boy only shrugs. “Bad things will still fucking happen to them.”

“Bad things happen to everyone.” Your words are firm. “I’m making sure they don’t fucking die.”

“Well,” he turns back to the wall. “Aren’t they fucking lucky they have you.”

You know his words are meant to be cold and sarcastic, his face has even dropped into a scowl. But there was no sharpness behind them, and the rest of his face just looks… so tired. You hate it, it’s leaking into you and you’re not even touching him. You really, really want it to stop. So, you say the only thing that you can think of.

“Nobody taught me,” you say softly.

“What?” His red eyes give you a confused glance.

“I can’t cook because nobody taught me how. My mom didn’t care to, I don’t think it ever occurred to my dad, and eventually everyone just assumed that I could and I didn’t want to correct them. I turned into some sort of rage against the patriarchy shit in my head, but it’s a just life skill that I can’t do because nobody wanted to teach me.” You give him a sad smile. “I don’t think they felt as lucky to have me as you think.”

“So why’re you protecting them?” He asks, a puzzled frown on his face. “If those pussies didn’t fucking care about you, then they don't fucking deserve it.”

You shrug. “I know. But I’m going to keep doing it anyway.”

His eyes on yours have that look of dissection again, but it’s no longer violating, only prying carefully. You’re not sure how long passes before he speaks.

“It’s late,” he mutters. “You should sleep.”

You hesitate, but nod and stand. You move to the door, glancing back to see his still watching, alone on the bed. From here, he somehow looks more tired, the light making the circles around his eyes more prominent and the color on his face more washed out. You think it’s the most human you’ve ever seen him.

“Good night, Soldier Boy,” you say gently, and turn to leave.

You almost don’t hear his response.

“You don’t have to call me Soldier Boy,” the words are said under his breath, and when you turn, he has a soft frown. “Ben’s fine.”

You blink, and a small, unforced smile crosses your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ben.”

140 notes · View notes

muffinpink02 · 5 months

Note

Perhaps some lucy inspo:

Lucy x (reader or ona) are on a spa trip, they haven’t done anything sexual in a couple of days for x reason, so now they can’t keep their hands off each other

extra inspo for if you write jealousy fics:

But there is someone (a worker or fellow visitor) who also cannot keep their hands off lucy (or ona) and eventually the mixture of jealousy, good looking gf, no sexual activities became to much and I think we can all imagine what happened either at the hotel (or at home)😌

just some inspo, you don’t have to use this storyline and can also rewrite it however, perhaps private jacuzzi on vacay instead of spa day etc etc

also cannot wait for the next chapters of the fics you’re currently writing. Massive fan of your work!!

The Big O

Thank you to the beautiful anon for this idea. Here you go. Its very quick and rushed, sorry.

Warning - Smut - angry sex

“I can’t wait for this. We needed a break.” Ona smiled over at Lucy as she opened the balcony doors of the hotel room. The taller girl lugged their shared suitcase into the room. Smiling at her girlfriend's excitement.

It had been a while since the couple had a break together, the last real holiday they had was after the World Cup. Yeah, they had breaks in between but they hadn’t been on a summer holiday. They had both been so busy with their own schedules, not to mention the champions league. They became passing ships in the night, hardly really spending time together. That also meant that they hadn’t been able to be intimate with each other in a while. 3 weeks to be exact.

So, yeah, they needed this. They made a promise to shut off their phones, no emails, no calls, nothing that could distract them.

“Yeah. I just can’t wait to see you in that bikini you brought.” The older brunette smiled playfully at Ona.

“Oh, what one?” Ona smiled innocently.

The older brunette stepped into Onas space, smiling down at the doe-eyed girl. “The one that shows off your arse perfectly.”

Ona bit her lip. Something she knew that drove Lucy crazy. The pair had been flirting the whole way here, both wanting each other desperately. Lucy was finding it hard to keep her hands to herself on the flight, her fingers had found themselves between Ona’s legs, teasingly stroking Ona’s bare thighs the whole plain journey. The younger girl didn’t mind at first but when Lucy's fingers got higher and higher to her core she couldn't stop the heat burning between her legs. She was close to dragging Lucy into the plains toilet just to get some kind of release.

“I love it when you look at me like that.” Lucy purred. She put her finger under Ona’s chin, making the girl look up at her.

“Like what?” Ona whispered. She knew what she was doing.

A lot of people would mistake Ona’s innocent look for being the softer one in the bedroom, the more submissive one. And yeah, she definitely was but she could also be very dominating when she wanted to be. She could play Lucy so easily, and Lucy loved it. She would fall for those beautiful brown Disney like eyes everytime, doing anything Ona would ask of her.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” Lucy cupped the shorter girl's face and slowly brought her lips to her own. It was slow at first, both feeling the other girl's mouth, tasting the other's lips. Ona’s watermelon gloss tingled the tip of Lucy's tongue, making her mouth water. Lucy grabbed the back of Ona's neck, pushing her tongue into her mouth. Ona whimpered on feeling her girlfriend's smooth tongue push past her lips and into her mouth.

“Ergh, I love when you make those noises.”

The Spaniard giggled, but it was cut off when Lucy pushed her on her back, hitting the soft mattress below her. She quickly climbed on top of the smaller girl, reattaching her lips to Ona’s own. It was quick messy kisses, the sounds of their wet lips smacking hard against the other. It was when Lucy started to roll her hips into Ona’s core that the Spaniard started to moan.

“Lu-,”

Ona was cut off from Lucy sucking on her neck.

Ona could feel her underwear becoming wetter, she wanted Lucy so badly. Her next words were going to be difficult.

“Lucy, we have to st- aaa.”

Lucy quickly slipped her hand into Ona’s shorts, touching her clothed sex.

“So wet already.” Lucy hummed cockily.

Ona gritted her teeth. It had been too long since she felt Lucy between her legs. So long since she felt those talented fingers inside her. She wanted nothing more then for Lucy to fuck her right here, right now, but she had to stop her.

“Lucy, w-we have to s-stop.”

Lucy stopped, looking down at her girlfriend, who was now panting hard. Her lips swollen from Lucy's relentless sucking.

“Stop? Why?” Her confused horny face made Ona’s pussy clench.

“I booked us a spa treatment. We have to be there in 10 minutes.”

“Are you saying I can’t have you screaming my name in 2 minutes? Because I take that as a challenge.” Lucy smirked down at Ona, capturing her lips once more.

Ona let herself get lost in Lucy's kisses once more. It was when Lucy started to push Ona’s t-shirt up, her short nails scratching against her tight skin, bringing Ona back into the presence.

“We can’t. Come. I’ll make it up to you later.” Ona gave a quick kiss to Lucy's lips before pushing her off.

Lucy let out a sigh and smiled. “You will definitely make it up to me.” She slapped Ona’s arse playfully, making the younger girl yelp.

Never one to be outdone, Ona stepped in front of Lucy, giving her best doe eye impression. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

The northerner's jaw clenched, her eyes closed as she let out a frustrated sigh.

“You better get us to the spa before I throw you on that bed.”

Ona giggled, she loved to rile up Lucy, she had found in the past that it would always make the sex just a little more fiery, more passionate, a lot more dirty.

The girls quickly got ready for the appointment. They changed into their bikinis and headed to the spa. They checked in and waited in the seating area for their masseuse. Lucy leaned into Ona. “I definitely would have had you screaming my name in that time.”

Ona chuckled. “Stop. Try and calm down, you’re going to have someone touching you, I don’t want you all worked up for them.”

Lucy ignored that, and continued.

“I just hope you know that I brought the big one, the one that you beg me to go slow with.”

Ona felt the chills go up her back from Lucy's words. She felt her cunt tighten, thinking about that exact strap Lucy was referring to.

“Fuck, Lucy.” Ona whispeared.

Before Ona could respond, with a full sentence, not that she really could have, her mind had turned to mush, two women came into the waiting room.

“Hi, I’m Sarah, I’m here for Lucy.” A blonde woman smiled at the pair.

“That's me.” Lucy smiled.

“And you must be Ona. I’m Sam.” The tall brunette masseuse smiled at the younger girl.

Lucy didn’t miss the way the masseuse eyed up Ona.

“That's me.” Ona smiled.

“Perfect.” Sam's grin was devilish. Lucy didn’t like it one bit.

The women sat next to each of the girls, talking about the session and what it would involve. Even though Lucy was trying to listen, her eyes kept wandering over to Ona and the tall brunette. They were speaking Catalan. The women had heard Ona’s accent and of course she happened to also be Catalonian too. So even though Lucy knew a lot of Spanish, she wasn't able to pick up the conversation. Especially at the rate they were speaking. Whatever they were talking about must have been funny because Ona was constantly laughing at the pretty brunette. And for some particular reason Sam had to constantly keep touching Ona’s bare thigh.

“So does that sound good, Lucy?” Sarah asked.

Lucy was pulled out of her stare off, with the back of Sam's head. “Hmm? Oh yeah, that's great.” She nodded.

“Great. I’m just going to grab some bits and we’ll head over.”

Lucy nodded and smiled, she wasn't even sure what treatment she had agreed on.

“Grcias Sam.” Ona smiled. Sam walked out of the room, possibly doing the same thing Sarah was doing. Ona looked over at Lucy, who looked a bit flustered.

“Hey, what are you getting?” Ona asked.

“Oh erm, the Swedish rock salt, tissue massage.” Lucy was sure that's what Sarah said. “You?”

“Sam suggested I get a full body deep tissue massage. She said it's the best type for what we do.”

“Hmm, so she knows who you are?”

“Yeah, she's actually not far from my town.”

“Hmm, small world.” Lucy smiled, but it was her weird smile. Ona knew that smile.

The women came back, holding white robes. They followed each woman to their own rooms. The pair smiled as they separated. Lucy noticing once more how Sam’s eyes roamed over Ona. Even though this was meant to be a relaxing moment, Lucy was far from relaxed. She couldn't stop thinking about Ona in the other room, being touched by the other woman.

“Okay, so you’re very tight on your shoulders, I’m going to work on that for a bit. Just try to relax, you feel very tense.” Sarah said.

Lucy hummed. Even though Sarah had no clue about why Lucy was currently very tense right now, she knew she was right, she needed to relax. She tried. Though she couldn't stop the thoughts of Sam’s hands going an inch too high up Ona’s towel, or an inch too low down her back. Or if she made Ona moan from her touches, what if she made those cute sexy noises that only Lucy pulled from her. Lucy may have regretted teasing Ona before the session.

The 45 minutes had passed. Lucy got dressed and thanked Sarah, though the girl was only more tense. Lucy waited in the waiting room for Ona, even though they both had a 45 minute treatment, Lucy waited another 15 minutes before she saw Ona. The girl had a giant dopey smile on her face. Her cheeks had a pink flush to it. Her hair had been in her neat classic bun before she went in the room with Sam, but now it was down and messy. The girl literally looked like she had just been fucked. And Lucy would know, she had made her look like that plenty of times.

“How was it?” Ona asked, her voice sounded rough.

“Good, you?”

“Soooo good, I don’t think I’ve ever had it like that before. She knew what she was doing.” Ona smiled.

“Hmm, good, good. Why so long?”

“Ohh, it was her last session, she gave me head,- a head massage.” Ona started to bun her hair back up.

Lucy raised her brows at Ona’s words. “Ohhh, nice of her.”

Ona nodded, not noticing Lucy's clear annoyance, or if she did she was ignoring it.

“Yeah. I’m hungry. Shall we grab something to eat?

“Sure.”

The girls grabbed lunch in the hotel. Lucy had calmed down after Ona snaked her hand in hers, mindlessly stroking her knuckles, something that Lucy loved. She knew she was just being jealous, not having sex for so long probably made it worse. Her body was ready to combust and the quick make out session they had in the hotel room before really didn't help.

They sat at the hotel's beach, soaking in the sun, finally relaxing. She looked over at Ona laying on her front, her beautiful arse cheeks swallowing the bikini. Lucy had to lick her lips, making sure she wasn't actually dribbling.

“Do you want a drink? I’ll go to the bar.”

Ona smiled, pushing her glasses down. “Can I get a strawberry daiquiri, please?”

Lucy kissed Ona deeply, holding the back of her head. “Of course you can.”

Lucy made her way to the bar, she ordered the drinks then noticed the TV. The bar was playing the football, it was Chelsea vs Man City, a game she was hoping to watch. She took a seat at the bar, waiting for the cocktail to be made, but also wanting to get comfy as she watched on.

Lucy had a few favourite things in this world, and watching football was one of them. Fucking Ona until she couldnt feel her legs no more was another. Playing football was another. Ona probably couldn't tell you in what order that went from top to bottom.

It had been 10 minutes Ona looked towards the bar, wondering where her girlfriend was, she wasn't worried, they were still at the hotel. She knew when Lucy was in a good mood the girl could make friends with anyone, so she imagined she was maybe talking to a fan or something. Another 10 minutes and still nothing, that’s when Ona heard that very familiar roar of a bar that she realised why Lucy had not returned. Of course.

“How's your head?” Ona looked up to see Sam the masseuse. With the way Sam was smiling at Ona, she couldn’t help but think Sam was trying to have a double meaning with that question.

“A lot better thank you. I definitely feel more relaxed.” Ona smiled.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it, I've been told by many girls that my hands have relieved a lot of tension. My fingers know just where to hit those spots.” Sam’s smile was dangerous.

She was coming on strong. Ona would normally politely turn down a girl who was flirting with her. But, Ona was annoyed with Lucy right now. They were meant to be on holiday, relaxing together, no phones, no screens, no interruptions. Ona also wouldn't have minded if she had watched it for 5 minutes and came back. But she had been gone for 30 minutes, Lucy had clearly got lost in the game.

That's when Ona decided to make things interesting. She carried on speaking to Sam. She knew half time would have to be any minute now. And just like clock work, she did, just in perfect timing, she could see Lucy getting up from the bar. Putting her plan in motion.

“Sam. Could you get my back, please. I can feel it getting red.”

Sam couldn't have moved quick enough. She took the bottle of sun cream from Ona’s hand and began to rub her back. Ona even undid her bikini straps at her neck, making a show of it. And that show had finally caught the attention of green eyes. Lucy's green eyes.

Ona closed her eyes and stretched her neck as Sam pressed her fingers deeply into her muscles. She could hear Lucy was close. So she moaned. She didn’t even have to put it on too much, as Sam did genuinely have magic fingers. Ona let out another groan, but this time it turned into a small whimper.

Lucy wasn't a violent person, but she wanted nothing more than to rugby tackle Sam to the floor. She watched as her fingers slowly rubbed against Ona’s skin, she even made Ona arch as she hit spots that not even Lucy could hit, because she didn’t know what muscle even did that. As she got closer she even heard Ona moan, then she heard her whimper. That was the whimper that only Lucy made her do. Now here she was watching her girlfriend moan for another woman right in front of her.

“I didn’t realise the hotel offered massages outside the spa.” Lucy almost growled.

“Oh, hey babe, Sam was passing by so I asked her to top up my cream.” Ona smiled.

Lucy knew that smile, she knew what Ona was doing. She continued.

“You were gone for a while. Did you get my drink?” Ona asked.

“Oh, yeah sorry. They’re playing the game, I just wanted to catch the last bit of it.” Lucy looked guilty.

“Hmm. I see.” Ona nodded.

“Here's your drink.” Lucy passed over Ona a warm, cocktail, even as she passed it she realised how stupid this looked.

Sam decided to involve herself in the conversation. “Aye, that drink is no good. I can make a better cocktail than this. Give me 5 minutes, I’ll be right back.”

Ona smiled widely up at Sam. “Oh thank you. You don’t have to do that.”

Sam laughed, responding in their mother tongue, making Ona giggle.

Lucy had to hold her fists by her side. Her anger for Sam growing all the more. She sat down in her deck chair. Looking at the younger girl. “Sorry Ona. I was gone for too long.

“You were.” She only confirmed.

“I’m sorry. I know we said no screens, I just got carried away.” She grabbed Ona’s hand kissing the back of it, making Ona smile at her.

“It's okay. You can make it up to me.” She smirked, not looking at Lucy.

Lucy was relieved to see Ona wasn't actually angry. She moved in close to her girlfriend, kissing her neck, she could taste the salt from her sweat, she sucked on her skin, relishing in the way Ona gasped.

“I’d do anything to make you smile.”

Just like Sam promised she was back in 5 minutes, much to Lucy's dismay..

“Here you go, this my own personal cocktail. I call it ‘The big O.” She winked.

Even though Sam was rude enough to flirt openly with Ona, she had also made a cocktail for Lucy. Ona sat up taking the glass from Sam.

“Ohh it looks amazing. Thank you Sam.” Ona smiled. She wrapped her lips around the pink straw and hummed. “Wow, that's really good. Try it Luce.”

Lucy rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. She imagined Ona was just being polite, she took her own sip. Wow, yeah, no, that was good. It was maybe the best cocktail she had ever had. But Sam didn't need to know that.

“Bit sweet for me. Thank you though.”

Sam smiled. “That's okay, everyone has a type, no? Anyways, enjoy the sun. Intenta no cremar, nena bonica.” She winked at Ona as she walked off.

Lucy was seething, she might not be an expert at the language but she knew enough to know she had just called Ona.

“I don’t like her.” Lucy grunted.

Ona chuckled, she loved Lucy like this. “Oh stop. She's just doing her job.”

Lucy folded her arms like a sulking toddler. Ona could only smile at her girlfriends cute, jealous antics as she drank the delicious cocktails.

The evening arrived, the girls rushed up to their rooms to get ready for another reservation Ona had made, it was only for dinner but it was a balcony view that you had to book in advance. If Ona knew how worked up the pair was going to be she would have just ordered room service. Lucy of course couldn't keep her hands off of the younger girl as she came out of the shower, slapping Ona’s arse cheeks as she walked past her.

They arrived for their dinner reservation, and Ona was grateful she had the willpower to stop Lucy’s hand creeping into her underwear just before they left the hotel room. The view was breathtaking, it overlooked the sea and the other islands. The sun was halfway to setting, making the sky a beautiful pink and orange colour. The girls had their dinner, happy to be in one another's company. They had needed this, just them, nothing in their way. Even though they both had wanted to tear each other's clothes off every waking minute, this was something they needed. Catching up with certain bits of their lives that they hadn't been able to in a while.

The girls finished their dinner and headed to the beach. The hotel had an event each night for the guests. Tonight was salsa dancing. Lucy and Ona sat at a table waiting for the entertainment. A pretty waitress came over to take their order.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” She looked at Lucy, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi, can I please get a beer. Ona?” Lucy looked over.

“A strawberry daiquiri please.”

The waitress smiled at Lucy. “No, problem.” She walked off to get their drinks.

“Someones a fan.” Ona rolled her eyes.

“She’s just being friendly.” Lucy chuckled.

The girl returned with their orders. “Here you go Miss Bronze.”

Lucy didn't stop the grin on her face. “Thank you.”

“And your martini.” She handed Ona the drink.

“Oh erm, I didn't order this.”

“No? Oh, I’m sorry. I must have gotten a bit flustered, I’m a really big fan.” She eyed Lucy up with absolutely no shame. “What was it you ordered?”

Ona stared at the waitress. Her normally soft eyes turned angry.

“A strawberry daiquiri.”

“That’s right, sorry. I'll grab that for you now.”

“Thank you. Don’t stress, we all make mistakes.” Lucy smiled.

The waitress put her hand on Lucy's naked muscle. “Thank you.”

Ona rolled her eyes, seething in her seat. Out of the two Ona was definitely the more jealous one.

This time it wasnt the waitress that came over, it was Sam, again. Did she not take a break?

“Hola, I saw the mix up. Sorry about that, I took the liberty of making my ‘Big O’ you look like you need it.”

“Sam! Thank you! I wanted to ask if they served it but you mentioned it was your own cocktail.” She sucked on her straw.

Lucy cleared her throat. “Do you work on every section or?”

Ona nudged Lucy under the table.

Sam chuckled. “I do work a lot of the hotel, si. I’m actually working in the entertainment tonight.”

“Of course you are.” Lucy muttered under her breath, Sam nor Ona heard her.

“So, Ona did you want to take up my offer for the message session?”

“What's this?” Lucy asked.

“Sam said I needed more work done to my upper thighs and lower back. She said I had a lot of tension there.”

“Si, I offered for her to have another treatment. Her body needs some extra attention in those areas. She's very tight. I could release her from that tension.” Sam smiled at Ona.

“I’ll definitely let you know. We have a few days planned.” Ona smiled, sipping on Sam's cocktail.

“Please do, it would be my pleasure.” Sam smirked as she walked away.

Lucy could see the newspapers already. ‘Bronze turned boxer.’ or ‘Lucy Ali’

“She couldn't be any more obvious if she tried.” Lucy sneered.

Ona grabbed her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “It doesn't matter. It's you who I want. It's you who will be fucking me later. It's you who I love.”

Lucy couldn't hold back the shiver that kissed her skin. She leaned into Ona’s face, kissing the girl with a passion Ona hadn't felt in a while. Just as they pulled apart the lights dimmed, and the stage lit up. Music boomed in from the speakers, salsa dancers came onto the stage.

The entertainment was amazing, the girls were enjoying themselves. The first show finished and the audience clapped for the dancers.

It wasn't until a familiar face came on stage that Lucy felt her shoulders drop. Sam came on stage in traditional salsa wear. It was a very different sight for the uniform she wore before. She had a beautiful body, her curves sat in the black dress perfectly. The music began, her and the male partner danced the tango, it was undeniably one of the sexiest dancers two people could do.

The dance came to an end, the crowd clapped loudly for Sam and her partner. They bowed and the male dancer walked off stage.

“Thank you, now it is your turn. I need a partner. I'm going to pick two volunteers, and I don’t take no for an answer.” Sam’s eyes landed on the shorter brunette.

Lucy's stomach dropped.

Sam stepped down off the stage, she pointed at one man who stood up quickly, making his way on the stage. She didn't have to walk very far as she put her hand out for Ona to take.

Lucy could tell Ona wasn't sure what to do, her big brown doe eyes looked almost worried. Lucy didn't want that. Yes, she could be jealous and possessive but she wouldn't actually want Ona to feel like she couldn't do something because of her jealousy. That’s not how she wanted this relationship.

Ona stared at her, needing some kind of confirmation, she wouldn’t do it if Lucy would genuinely be hurt. She saw the small smile and nod that Lucy gave her, giving her the green light. She took Sam’s hand, allowing her to be led to the stage.

“Can I please have a round of applause for my volunteers. Please tell us your names.”

“I’m Craig.” The guy smiled.

“I’m Ona.”

Lucy did the loudest wolf whistle she could muster, causing Ona to giggle.

“Okay, the challenge is to dance. Whoever can keep up with me wins. If you forget or falter you are out. The winner wins a bottle of champagne.” Sam said.

Now, it doesn’t matter what the prize is. Ona and Lucy will want to win everytime, even if the prize is just to gloat. So, yeah, Lucy was going to cheer Ona on. Even if Sam was very obvious and wanted her girl. They needed to win.

Sam went through some steps with the pair. Very basic at first, just a one, two step, dip kind of thing. Ona and Craig stayed on count. Lucy couldn’t help but watch as Ona’s hips made an easy step look so sexy. Sam gave them more steps, getting more technical and faster, the audience cheered as they kept up with her.

“Well done, now we put it to the test. You will dance the steps. I will jump in with you, whoever can keep with me the longest, wins.”

It would be impossible for either of them to keep up with her, she was a professional dancer, but that was probably the point. Sam pointed to the guy to go first. The music started and he began to dance, he kept up with the basic steps. The crowd cheered him on, he wasn't too bad. Sam then stepped closer taking his hands to dance with him. As soon as she made it faster he messed up.

The audience clapped for his efforts. Sam strode up to Ona. The music started to play again and Ona did the steps. Lucy knew Ona could dance, she always looked so easy and free when she did, her body could move like a snake. So, she looked very natural with these steps. Sam then took Onas hands and began to dance with her, Lucy noticed Sam's hand placements straight away, one on her hip verging on her arse, the other clasped with her hand.

She made the steps quicker but Ona kept up easily, Sam pushed herself closer to the shorter girl, looking down at her. The girl was taller than Lucy, so Ona looked even tinier next to her.

Sam smirked down at Ona, realising she could actually dance. She began to twirl Ona’s smaller body, bringing her back into her chest, faces inches from her own. If Lucy didn't hate Sam she would have thought it was actually quite sexy. Ona and Sam were wearing very samilair dresses, making the dance even more in sync. Sam spun Ona again and dipped her backwards. Ona must have hid this talent from Lucy because she was keeping up with Sam no problem, she looked like a professional dancer. Her face was as focused as it was on a football pitch.

Sam brought her to her body again, Ona’s thigh slipped between Sams as they danced closely, Sam's hands slipped into Ona’s hair and made a circular motion. Ona’s eyes closed as she was moved around easily. Okay, yeah, Lucy was horny, and jealous?

Sam twirled the petite girl once more and brought Ona’s back to her chest. She brought her face close to Ona’s neck, her lips barely just touching Ona’s skin, then twirled her again. She began to slowly dip Ona backwards, her hand gliding up the girl's thigh, revealing her muscular leg. She pushed her thigh high, against her own body, it looked so sexual, it almost felt like you were interrupting something. Her face came close to Ona’s lips then, down her neck, then down her chest.

Lucy was feeling many different feelings right now, and horny was the biggest one, but she was also so proud of Ona. She didn’t know the girl could dance like that. The music ended and Sam slowly brought Ona back up to her feet, both smiling and out of breath.

The hotel guest jumped to their feet and cheered, including Lucy. Ona looked straight at her girlfriend, happy to see her smiling.

Sam lifted Ona’s hand and bowled, she then took a step back to let Ona have the moment. Lucy looked at her girlfriend, she was slightly out of breath, her face was flushed, her once neat hair tousled. Lucy needed her.

Sam whispered something in Ona’s ear but that girl was paying her no attention, she could feel the way Lucy was looking at her. In this very moment it was just her and Lucy, her green eyes were undressing her body.

Sam brought over the cold champagne. “Ona, everybody!” The crowd clapped once more. Ona thanked Sam while taking her prize. She made quick steps towards Lucy.

“Room. Now”

That's all Ona needed to say and Lucy was up.

Ona gasped as her back hit the wall of their hotel room. Lucy’s mouth was all over her neck. Her tongue sucked, and licked at her bare skin. She was leaving marks. Ona could tell. She couldn't stop her even if she wanted to. Lucy was lost in a haze, biting and sucking her skin in between her lips. She wanted to mark the girl. Make a point that she was hers. No one else's.

“Fuck, Luce.” Ona struggled to see straight.

“You liked it didn't you? All day. Making me jealous? Hmm?” Lucy asked.

Ona smirked. “Sí, I did.”

Lucy hummed. “I guess I’ll have to remind you who you belong to.” She gave Ona a particularly sharp bite to the neck. Making the girl cry out.

She grabbed the shorter brunette by the waist, her lips attached to hers. She kissed Ona deeply, almost roughly. She cradled the back of her head as she moved them to the foot of the bed. Ona moaned at the sheer strength of Lucy's tongue, pushing its way into her mouth, taking full control of the kiss. She pulled back.

“Strip. Get on the bed.” Lucy commanded.

Ona nodded, striping herself of her clothes.

The older brunette made her way to their suitcase, looking for her strap. Lucy removed her clothes, leaving her completely naked. She pulled the harness up her strong thighs, adjusting the thick strap between her legs. She heard a small gasp behind her. She turned around to see Ona on her back, her head on the pillows with her hand between her legs. Lucy smirked, she loved watching Ona pleasure herself, she would watch her all day if she could, but she would always end up replacing Ona’s hand with her own, or her mouth.

She slowly walked over to the bed, Ona’s fingers were glistening with her juices, her eyes closed tightly as she circled her sensitive clit. Lucy watched as her girlfriend started to lose herself in her own pleasure, her small whimpers and whines making Lucy lose her calm resolve. She wanted to be inside her. She kneeled on the bed and slowly crawled to the petite women, trying not to make too much movement. She was like a moth to the flame, mesmerised by Ona, she couldn't take her eyes away from her glistening lips, her own mouth watering at the sight in front of her.

The taller brunette brought her lips to Ona’s thigh, kissing the sensitive flesh. Ona smiled, feeling her girlfriends lips on her, she opened her eyes watching Lucy crawl closer to her.

“Kiss me.” Ona whispered.

Lucy moved higher up Ona’s thighs, closer to her sex, Lucy could smell how wet Ona was, the buds on her tongue watering at the thought of tasting her. She couldn't wait any longer, she would normally tease Ona a lot more, kiss her all over her petite body, make her beg for her, but she had waited too long. She dipped her head to Ona’s core, causing Ona to move her hand away. She took one long lick up her folds onto the sensitive bud.

“No, Luce kiss me, please.”

Lucy lifted her head up, Ona was looking down at her, pleading for her. She could never deny Ona anything, especially like this. She crawled up to the shorter brunette, her body was so small under hers. She made sure to let the dick rub against Ona’s body as she moved, reminding her exactly what she was going to do to her. Reminding her exactly who Ona belonged to.

Ona squirmed as she felt the thick rubber press against her. She grabbed Lucy's face and brought their lips together. Ona tried to take control but Lucy didn't allow it, she roughly pushed her tongue into Ona’s making her gasp. The older brunette was losing patience, and Ona could tell. Her strong hips started to move against Ona’s body, she wanted to fuck her, she wanted to here Ona scream her name.

But so did Ona. She wasn't the only one who got riled up by jealousy tonight. Yeah, Lucy maybe had to endure it a lot more, but Ona also knew Lucy was about to wreck her. And she knew she could go for hours if she wanted to. And Ona needed to come now, not in a couple of hours, while Lucy made her beg. The petite girl wrapped her leg around Lucy's body and easily flipped them. Lucy was on her back with Ona on top, smiling down proudly at her own strength.

“You’re so easy Luce.” The shorter brunette whispered into her ear, making Lucy shiver.

“I’m going to ride your face until I’m satisfied, then you can do what you want with me. Does that sound good, baby?”

Lucy nodded quickly. This was the Ona people didn't get to see, (for obvious reasons.) The sweet doe eye Spaniard could be just as dominating as the brunette beneath her. Maybe even more.

She quickly crawled up Lucy's body, ready to take what she wanted from her. She planted her thighs next to Lucy's head and lowered her wet pussy onto Lucy's hot mouth.

“Fuck.” Ona’s eyes closed as she dropped her head back. As soon as she felt Lucy's soft mouth on her painfully throbbing clit she couldn't wait. She moved her hips into Lucy's mouth, she snaked her fingers into the dark roots of Lucy's hair, and grinded her hips. Lucy wrapped her hands around Ona's hips, helping her guide her movements. She lapped at Ona’s cunt, her thick juices covered her tongue, the girl was wet. Lucy swallowed the mouthful of fluids, moaning as she felt the wetness glide down her throat.

Ona had one hand in Lucy's hair the other on the head board, giving her full control in how she moved her body against Lucy's skillful tongue. She was dominating the situation, and Lucy was happy enough to be used for Ona’s pleasure. She loved when Ona took charge, the dominant energy in her would switch off so easily, and allow the normally softer lover to take what she wanted.

Lucy wrapped her lips around Ona’s soft bundle of nerves, making the girl groan loudly, her hips becoming more rough. She knew Lucy could take it. She could feel the swell in her stomach grow. She grabbed Lucy's head with both hands and began to fuck her face, she could hear how wet she was as Lucy slurped on her velvety folds.

“Hmm, Lucy, your mouth. Are you swallowing?”

Lucy hummed. Ona had a kink for Lucy swallowing her essence, she loved to hear the girl's throat drinking her down. Especially when she came, she would hold Lucy's head down to make sure she cleaned and swallowed every bit of her up. Not letting her move until she was happy.

Ona felt the tickling vibration from Lucy's mouth. She smiled down at the girl as she fucked her face. “Good girl. Make sure you swallow when I come.”

Lucy hummed again. Sending sweet vibrations into the petite girl. “Fuck, Lucy, Just like that, Dont stop.”

Ona grinded her hips deep into Lucy's mouth. Her thighs started to shake. The grip in Lucy's hair was almost painful. She let out a cry as she felt Lucy suck perfectly on her clit. She came hard against the girl's tongue. Lucy groaned as she felt Onas wetness slowly drip into her mouth. Swallowing it as loudly as she could. Ona slowed her movements, trying to catch her breath. She looked down at her beautiful girlfriend, licking and cleaning her up. She gently stroked Lucy's hair back.

“You’re so good. So good.”

Lucy hummed as she continued licking and swallowing, catching every drop she could. Ona didn't move, she stayed on Lucy's face, enjoying the feeling of her tongue stroking her sensitive folds. They stayed like this for a while, until Ona decided she wanted more. She began to move her hips again, gently this time. Allowing Lucy to move at the pace she wanted.

Lucy looked up at Ona, she watched as her girlfriend's body gently rocked against her mouth. She looked breathtaking. Her long brown chestnut hair dripped down her chest and back, her eyes were closed as she was lost in the pleasure of Lucy's mouth. She began to make small whimpers as she approached her second orgasm. She came again, crying as she flung her head back in pleasure. Lucy swallowed and suckled just the way the Spaniard liked. Ona gasped as Lucy caressed her with her tongue, finally not able to take anymore, she lifted herself off the older girl and dropped on the bed beside her.

“Your mouth’s amazing.” Ona breathed out.

Lucy chuckled, she sat up looking at Ona’s body next to her, she could see the bruises forming on her neck from her earlier assault. Her cunt was aching looking at her.

Lucy wasn't a rough lover, she definitely liked to take control and be in charge but she wasnt rough. But with all the emotions of jealousy running through her, seeing Sam's hands all over her girlfriend's body woke something up in her. She moved to the end of the bed, she leaned forward and grabbed Ona by her waist, easily moving the girl. Ona yelped.

“On your knees.”

Ona looked shocked by the sudden change in Lucy's mood. She dropped to her knees in front of Lucy. Ona saw the huge appendage between Lucy's legs, it was their biggest toy, Ona enjoyed using it now and again but a lot of the time Lucy had to go slow. So it wasn't their most used item.

Ona didn’t feel as cocky as she did before, staring down Lucy’s huge strap.

“Open.”

Ona nodded her head, she opened her mouth and took in the tip of the dick. Lucy's hands snaked into her lose her, guiding her head down the dick. She stopped before she got half way, the girth of the toy was already stretching out her lips.

“That’s it baby.” Lucy started to move her hips forward, pushing Ona’s head back against the mattress. Ona’s hands were on the older brunette's thighs. Lucy removed her hands and pushed them above her head, onto the mattress. Making her press deeper into Ona’s mouth. The spaniard gagged as Lucy began to slowly fuck her face against the bed.

“You look so good Ona, you're taking it so well. Don’t stop baby.”

Ona felt the thick plastic slide its way down her throat. Ona could tell Lucy was definitely about to take out some pent up anger on her throat. And that was exactly what the Spaniard wanted, she knew she pushed Lucy today.

Lucy’s hip started to pick up pace, she held Ona’s wrist in one hand the other gripping at her head. Ona moaned at the new speed, she could feel herself dripping, being used like this from Lucy was a rarity, Lucy looked down at Ona, her doe like eyes were prickling with tears. Her lips sliding up and down the appendage.

“You drive me crazy Ona.” Lucy pushed deeper.

Ona’s head was basically trapped between Lucy and the mattress, she could feel her breathing getting more difficult as the dick took up most of the space in her throat, restricting her of air. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, she started to choke around Lucy's dick. Lucy pulled back, Ona gasped as air hit her lungs again. Her spit was attached to the tip of the strap. Lucy smiled down at her.

“Take some more.” Lucy pushed her dick back to Ona’s swollen lips.

Ona opened her mouth, ready for what Lucy would want to give her.

“So, you enjoy making me jealous?” Lucy snapped.

Ona’s eyes squeezed shut as Lucy pushed herself deeper into her mouth.

“You liked making me angry? Liked flirting with your little girlfriend?”

Ona moaned, angry Lucy was a sexy Lucy. Spit started to dribble from her mouth at Lucy's pace.

“Look at you, you love it don't you, Ona? You love being a little brat.”

Lucy finally slid the whole strap down Ona’s throat, pushing the base perfectly against her clit. She rocked her hips into Ona’s face, thoroughly face fucking the girl. Ona began to choke on the thick plastic, tears rolled down her face.

Lucy pulled out of Ona’s mouth, not wanting to actually hurt the girl. Ona coughed and sputtered as she was able to breathe again. Lucy grabbed Ona by her arms and threw her on the bed like she was nothing, another thing Ona went wild for, Lucy's strength, the girl could carry her around like she was nothing, and when she was angry, like she was now, it would always came into play.

Lucy didn't wait around, she sunk two fingers into Ona’s core. The girl gasped at the new intrusion between her legs, Lucy couldn't help but smile at the beautiful noise that escaped Ona’s mouth.

“So tight Ona, you need to open up for me.” Lucy purred in the girl's ear.

“Fuck, Luce.” Ona groaned, Lucy picked up the pace quickly, the obscene noise that came between Ona’s legs was pornagraphic. She was so wet from Lucy fucking her face, and Lucy knew it. Ona loved rough sex, Lucy did too, but she was always the one to make sure Ona was okay with everything they did. They had their colours, they knew the limits, and Lucy knew Ona would stop her if she ever needed to, the same went for Lucy.

Lucy removed her fingers from Ona and rubbed her wetness over the strap, covering the dick in Ona’s natural lube. The girl had a lot of it. She lined herself up, looking down at Ona’s pussy.

“You ready baby?”

“Please Lucy, I need you.”

Lucy pushed the head off the very girthy dick into Ona’s dripping cunt. She would normally let Ona get used to the thickness but today she didn't have the composure. She pushed her hips until she bottomed out into Ona, causing the girl to whimper with each inch that pushed past her tight walls.

“Fuck Ona.” Lucy knew she couldn't actually feel it, but the noises Ona made alone drove her crazy. She started to grind her hips into Ona, the shorter girl whimpered in her ears as she took what Luct gave her.

“L-Lu- cy!” Ona groaned out as she felt Lucy speed up, the pain quickly turned into pleasure as her pusy swallowed her.

“You’re mine, Ona.” Lucy grunted.

“Si. Si. Yours.”

“Don’t ever forget that.” Lucy started to suck on Ona’s skin. Making more marks.

Ona couldn't talk, the pace of Lucy's hips was unforgiving. Lucy was lost in her own world, fucking the girl beneath her. She grabbed Onas leg and lifted it over her shoulder, pushing herself ever deeper into the petite girl. She groaned at the tightness of the girl. Ona groaned deeply, swearing and muttering between English and Catalan. Lucy was working her body hard, all that pent up anger being used on her body, it only made Ona more wet, building up another orgasm.

Lucy could feel the base of the strap hitting her perfectly.

“You’re taking it so well baby. You didn't even make me go slow, you’re so good. So good for me.”

Lucy's words pushed Ona further to her climax. Her body was sweating underneath Lucys, the girl's stamina was a curse and a blessing.

“I’m going to come Lucy.”

“No, just a little more baby. Wait for me, just a little more.”

Ona gritted her teeth as Lucy used her body to chase her climax, her own knot in her stomach was stepping dangerously close to the edge. She knew if she came Lucy wouldn't stop, and she didn't think she could take that kind of work on her body right now. So she tried her best to hold on.

Lucy's hips moved a fraction deeper inside the Spaniard, getting herself closer to her end goal. But it only made it harder for Ona.

“L-L.”

“Shhh baby.” Lucy brought her hand up to stroke Ona’s sweaty head. “You can take it. Just a little more. Give me a little more.” She grunted, closing her eyes, as her clit started to throb. She looked down at the beautiful girl below. Her big brown eyes looked up at Lucy, there was so much love in those eyes, so much trust. Pushing Lucy closer.

Ona sucked in her breath, she closed her eyes, her head was throbbing from the pressure of it all. Until she heard that unmistakable groan from the girl above.

“Fuck, I’m coming.”

Lucys hips pushed deeper into Ona, the girl let out a high pitched cry as she was finally allowed to come. Lucy let out a deep groan, her hips never stopping, until her body reached that perfect release, pushing the girl deeper into the mattress.

“Fuck.” Lucy panted into Ona’s sweaty neck. She gently pulled out of the younger girl, flopping beside her.

“You okay?” Lucy looked over at Ona.

Ona smiled. “So good.”

The girls caught their breath. Lucy slipped off the harness. Ona rolled over to her girlfriend, and began to kiss her neck, sucking and biting her sweaty skin. Lucy gathered Ona’s hair in one hand and guided her down her stomach.

“Give me your mouth baby.”

Ona happily did what she was told, and made her way down Lucy's body, kissing her abs on the way down. She slowly kissed her hips, then slowly made her way down to the crease of Lucys lips. But she didn't touch her where she needed her. She slowly kissed over her wet lips instead, and began to kiss her thighs. She knew Lucy didn't have the patience for her teasing. The older brunette grabbed her chin.

“Keep teasing me, and I’ll fuck you over that balcony and let your little girlfriend see how loud you can be.”

Ona chuckled. “I love you.” She smirked.

Lucy groaned. This girl was such a fucking tease. She smiled and stroked Ona’s face lovingly. “I love you baby. Now let me come in that pretty mouth.”

Ona wrapped her lips around Lucy's swollen clit. Lucy hissed at the first touch, she wasn't going to last long at all. Ona moaned as her girlfriend's arousal soaked her tongue, she began to suckle on the bundle of nerves just the way she knew Lucy loved. The older brunette, entangled her fingers into Ona’s long hair and started to fuck her face. Ona moaned at the grip on her hair as Lucy used her body once more to get off.

“Just like that. You look so beautiful like this.”

Ona moaned at Lucy's words. The girl grinded her hips into her mouth as Ona’s tongue hit her clit over and over again.

“I’m coming. Don’t stop.” She pulled Ona closer into her core, keeping the girl where she needed her. Ona felt Lucy’s juices cover her tongue, she groaned at the amount of sheer wetness that flowed into her mouth.

“Onaaa.” Lucy looked down at the girl, her tongue lapped up at her soaking cunt.

She let Ona stay there for a little while, until it got too much. She moved her head away, laughing at Ona’s pout when the girl didnt want to move. Ona laid next to Lucy kissing her neck and snuggling next to her girlfriend.

“Best holiday ever.” Ona whispered.

“Hmm and it's only the first day.”

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