#Feel have spent a meaningless life

[elizadoolittlethings]

Happy Gatiss everyday

Belated happy Gatiss Wednesday

[onrainynights]

🕯️manifesting my promotion🕯️

[gothamcitycentral]

Dr. Phosphorus is almost contradictory to himself in a way I find notable.

Assuring Nina with, “I know you can do this, kid.” A term of endearment slipping in, fitting an interaction between a once-father and a young woman who’s spent the overwhelming majority of her adult life locked away and isolated in prison.

Perhaps too endearing, as he quickly undercuts it with “Did it sound like I gave a shit?”

When Weasel jeopardizes the mission, he grabs him in anger, yelling, “You stupid rat!”

But he doesn’t actually try to hurt Weasel. He only got burned once he sunk his teeth too deep into Phosphorus.

Then there’s this scene, where this obviously just him joking around, right? Just him being his sardonic self.

But then later, he seems genuinely offended that Flag is angry with him. That Flag should have taken his actions as a favor between ‘friends’. As if he’s actually a little desperate to be liked by the man he was fighting with not that long ago.

(I mean, as a smaller example, his interactions with Nosferata jump from him insulting her to playing freaking ping pong with her)

Then there’s his recurring dynamic with Bride. Despite the ‘I’m a killer who doesn’t care about anything’ idea of himself he pushes, Phosphorus continuously tries to interact with her. Making remarks for her to find amusing, remaking on their bleak situation for her to join in on. It’s like he saw the first person in so long to really acknowledge him in anything close to a meaningful way (“Are you smiling?” “Yes!” “Sarcastically?” “Mm-hm.”) and decided he wasn’t going to let that high just go away.

Even after the mission failed, he tries to push himself as the annoyed, angered man. Angered at Weasel, angered at Nina’s death, angered at their efforts all being for nothing.

But then he’s the only person to comfort Bride in her mourning.

I think these conflicting traits, the outward expression versus the sincerity that slips through, are most well shown during Wonderlust King. Still in the wake of his family’s death (not that it ever ended for him), during his era as a crime boss, he tries to satiate the sadness in himself.

He dances in the Ice Lounge, a display of his power and his wealth for all its attendees to bear.

But then misses dancing with his wife at their wedding, a display of their love for all gathered to behold.

He tries to gain satisfaction through inflicting violence onto others.

But then only misses the love he shared with Parvin.

He tries to fill the hole in his heart with riches.

But it’s meaningless in comparison.

Dr. Phosphorus thought Alex Sartorius died the night he was born, I feel, but despite his own best wishes, he’s still there, the loving man who only wanted to help people he once was.

[nikovraskol]

What were the reactions from the family in the original timeline where reader died?

masterlist - crack baby

if u saw alfred being mentioned .. no u didnt i forgot he was dead oopsy poopsy

soul crushing guilt.

the moon is high in the sky, and everyone's gearing up for patrol, though they can each tell that there's a strange blanket of silence around the manor.

bruce is perplexed, but it's fine -- he's probably just tired, it's probably nothing.

then he sees your lifeless body in an alley and he's fighting tears, his stomach churning as he gazes down at you -- his poor baby, lying in a pool of your own blood, your eyes glazed over, lifeless.

when jason died, he vowed to never let another one of his children die ever again, not like this. so why? you weren't even a vigilante, you were just.

he dives himself into work, searching for the bastards responsible for your death, when he finds them -- he'll give them a firm beating, he'll convey his anger, not as batman but as bruce wayne.

dick is absolutely devasted, he can't bring himself to look at your body, his poor baby. you must've felt soso alone, scared as you bleed out. he wishes he could've spent more time with you, wishes that he took you out for dinner that one time. he buries himself in hero work, much like bruce, trying to distract himself -- but it doesn't work! everything reminds him of you. he wishes he could've seen you smile so widely at him, just one more time.

jason, on the other hand, doesn't try to distract himself. he reaches forward and searches for the murderes with a deep sense of rage. he understands you, he does! he knows what it feels like to be neglected, forgotten -- pushed aside as an afterthought as bruce pushes in another sibling in a place that should've been yours, you could've opened up to him, he could've looked back at you. he feels a burning hot rage, an itch for revenge -- but beneath his anger is a deep sense of vulnerability. of the knowledge that he failed you, his precious sibling. he doesn't think he can forgive himself.

tim doesn't believe it at first. you got shot on your way home from work? what a silly joke. and then he takes in the sullen expression on bruce's face and he faced with a deep sense of hopelessness. how .. unexpected. he doesn't know how to move on, you didn't play an intengral role in his life but as the days pass he's acutely aware of the small things you did that affected him, the way you would boil water before you went to bed for him, or how you'd leave some painkillers on the counter -- all those small things that seemed to meaningless to him, he's forced to acknowledge his own shortcomings as your brother. he doesn't know how to move on, he doesn't want to move on.

damian, poor damian, he's crushed. you're dead? you? his older sibling? sure, he may have bullied you since the moment you stepped into the manor, not once did he show you positive affection. but he cares for you! in his own, twisted way! he's faced with crushing guilt, unable to look in the mirror without seeing you -- without seeing the resigned expression on your lifeless face. he always knew you were weak, but dying to a few bullets? that's--.. he can't bring himself to belittle you, not anymore, not with the suffocating guilt he's forced to face.

they have no memories of you, aside from the small child you were, shyly observing from afar -- to the lifeless body you are now. they scavange for every picture they could find, anything they can to remember you by!

if only they had a chance to redo it, to show you just how much you mean to them. :(

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[thebestsetter]

He was born to be by your side. It was his greatest desire, what he was meant to do. It's like being next to you came naturally to him, and he can't even remember how his life was before he met you. But what he can remember are the days you both spent together. Ridiculous conversations that, somehow, made so much sense to the both of you. So random, but yet holding so much meaning.

You were both laughing so hard. Walking by the shore, hand in hand. The sunset painting the sky with red and orange. Beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"When we grow up, we'll have a house by the beach" you said, swinging your arms together

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

He grabs your sun hat and puts it on his head, earning a small "Hey!" from you.

"And then we'll buy a cotton candy machine and make lots of cotton candies." He completes your thought while taking the final bite of his popsickle. You clean the side of his mouth (which was all smudged from the cold treat) and smile.

"Yeah, we can do that too."

You used to talk about your future a lot. More than the average couple, actually. Sometimes, you both reunited at your favorite cafeteria just to talk about life. How it was gonna be. How was gonna be your life together.

"A caramello cappucino with apple pie and a mint and chocolate milkshake, please" you said, and just hearing his typical order coming out of your mouth made him smile. Somehow, knowing you memorized his order made him happier than he could put into words.

After he paid (of course, he can't let you pay for your snacks. What kind of man would he be?) you both went to sit on a table right beside a window (you always loved looking out a window while talking, and he knew that. He knew you like the back of his hand). And like you couldn't handle the sound of silence, you started talking (and he'd never complain about it: he loved hearing you talk)

"We can have 3 kids, how about that?"

"I don't like odd numbers. Why not 4?"

"4 is too much" you said, sticking your tongue out and frowning your eyebrows (you looked so cute) "We can have 2, if the problem is odd numbers"

"2 is too little" he argued, and then sighed jokingly "Okay, fine, we can have 3"

You smiled, taking a sip from your milkshake

"Maybe after the third one, we can consider having a fourth, if you'd like"

And you knew he wanted to. Of course he did. He wanted to form a big, happy family with you. He wanted his future to be by your side. He couldn't picture a future without you. Which is why it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

"What's your favorite color? Mines yellow"

It hurts. He hates this. He hates this shit so freaking much. His heart feels like it's breaking, and his lungs are gasping for air. He can't look at his date without feelong absolutely sick, like he could literally throw up at the very moment. He can't help but think of you. How you were already talking about how many kids you'd like, and now he's back on the "knowing each other stage". It was so strange not seeing you.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me"

He can't spend a single minute here anymore. He's on the verge of dying, he's sure. And as if his body already knows exactly what makes him feel better, his feet take him to your house without him realizing.

His hand hovers upon the door, ready to knock on it. Life without you is meaningless. He needs you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much.

"HHAHAHA Stop it!! Love, I swear, tickle me one more time and I will... HAHAHAHA"

He lowers his hand and walks away.

He loves you, that's why he's letting you go. He needs to let you go for your own good. You need to get over him (even though he's sure he'll never get over you)

He can't do this to you. Not when your new boyfriend treats you so well. Not when he fucked everything up. Not when he was the reason why you two broke up. He doesn't deserve you. He always knew you were too good for him. But now, he's doing you this favour to repay you for all the times you helped him. He's not going to disturb you.

Well, back to the talking stage, it seems.

GOJO SATORU, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, CHOSO KAMO, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, Kageyama Tobio, Oikawa Tooru, KUROO TETSURO, TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shota (kinda???), SHINSOU HITOSHI, RIN ITOSHI, SAE ITOSHI, BACHIRA MEGURU, Chigiri Hyoma, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, REO MIKAGE + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: not proofread!!

Masterlist

[milkoomi]

⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

chapter four — THE ART OF SELF RESPECT

when you live a life where you don’t respect yourself, your boundaries, your health, your mind, your emotions; just anything about you, you’ll end up living a life where you’re walked all over, where people take advantage of you, where you’ll find no successes or achievements— you live a life feeling lost and feeling empty, feeling like your mission in life is to be meaningless. we’re taught to respect others, but we’re never taught to respect ourselves. we, as individuals, need to have the highest level of respect for one person. that person being us.

ᥫ᭡. where to start

decenter men

i was talking about this the other night with my best friend, but way too many people (women, men, trans women/men, literally anyone) center their lives around men. the patriarchy has stolen so many people’s individuality, stripping them of finding their own personality, their own interests, opinions, hobbies, etc. and that is one of the main reasons people don’t have any self respect. decenter men.

a man should not, and never define who you are as a person. a man should never make you feel like you are undeserving of your own successes. a man should never make you feel any less than what you truly are! men should never be a source of validation for you as a person. it doesn’t matter if you’re a man yourself (cis or trans), it doesn’t matter if you’re a woman (cis or trans), and it doesn’t matter if you’re nonbinary/gender-nonconforming; you should never ever— and i mean ever— center your ideals, thoughts, opinions, hobbies, interests, and your entire self and life around a man.

too many people are so focused on men and what men think about them. and let me just give you some food for thought: when have you ever done something solely for yourself without the back thought of a man’s approval? i’ll admit, back in high school i spent all four years thinking about men and seeking validation from a man. from my freshman year all up until my senior year i was in back to back relationships because i couldn’t even fathom the thought of being without a man. and you know what that did for me? it made me miserable, it made me more insecure, and it made me put myself into situations that the person who i am now would be insanely repulsed by because what the fuck was i thinking? majority of my teenage years were spent centering my life around men, and i was miserable.

now, at my current age at this point in my life, i am so unbelievably lucky to be engaged to the man of my dreams, but! i remember when my partner and i first started dating, my therapist asked about 5-6 months into my relationship, “do you feel like you depend on him for your happiness?” and it made me think, “oh my god, what if i am? what if all the anxieties i have about my relationship are because i rely too much on him for my own happiness?” while my relationship with him is the healthiest, happiest, and most healing relationship i’ve ever been in, i had to learn to be okay with being by myself; with being in the company of my own, without him, because i can’t depend on him for company or happiness or peace— i have to depend on myself for those things, and he’s just my wonderful partner that i get to enjoy and experience life with. he’s not my entire life. he’s only a part of it.

you have to learn to be happy and to find peace with being by yourself. your whole life can’t be surrounding the idea of a man.

here are a couple posts that i’ve found to be really helpful with how to decenter men:

“decentering men and recentering yourself” by @honeytonedhottie

“how to decenter men” by @femmefatalevibe

stop seeking validation from others

not only do people seek validation from men, they seek validation from literally anyone. parents, teachers, bosses, friends, classmates, colleagues; people are looking from validation from all the wrong sources. you, yourself, should be the only person you seek validation from. you should be setting your own standard from yourself.

again, looking for validation from any outside source only makes you lose yourself more and more in the process. you forget all about what you want and need from yourself because you’re so focused on what other people need and want from you. validate yourself, affirm yourself, just be there for yourself. you don’t need anyone or anything else telling you that you’re doing something right. you’ll know what’s right for you because you should know yourself better than anyone else!

set boundaries

chapter three was all about learning how to say no and how to set boundaries, so i highly recommend going back to that chapter and reviewing it since i go more in-depth on that topic!

setting boundaries for yourself is one of the best things to do to regain your self respect. knowing what exactly you want from yourself and from others and setting that line will not only protect your happiness and peace, but it will also show an immense amount of respect that you have for yourself to others who may think that they don’t have to respect you.

ᥫ᭡. self respect as a whole

respecting yourself means respecting your peace, your privacy, your thoughts, your opinions, your emotions; you as a person. it protects you from things and people that could potentially harm you, whether it’s physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.

protect your peace. protect your happiness. protect your mind and your body. when you disrespect yourself by partaking in an overuse of harmful substances, having unprotected sex with someone you don’t even have a genuine connection to, or accepting behaviors from someone who’s constantly hurting you or betraying your trust you become a doormat for people to walk all over you in life.

i have known too many people, myself included, who disrespected themselves and faced one too many hardships in life. it makes us miserable and that misery turns into so many mental health issues that can sometimes cause too much harm that it makes it 100 times more difficult to recover.

self respect doesn’t have to be hard. you can always start small by just taking care of yourself! this has been a recurring theme in this series, but here i am to say it again: prioritize yourself! respect that you have needs and wants and do things for yourself that make you feel good and that benefit you. self care is vital, and respecting the fact that your own health needs to be in check is a wonderful first step towards gaining more self respect.

you have to show up for yourself, you have to immerse yourself in activities/hobbies/media that’s actually good for you— not what you think is good for you, you have to be kind to yourself, and you have to love yourself, babes. seriously, self respect can be a really simple thing at the end of the day and it can come so easily to you if you just let it be. don’t make your life harder by disrespecting yourself.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

we’re nearing the end of this mini series! chapter five will be the final chapter! i’m so thankful that this series has been shown so much love so far and i hope that it’s been able to help you guys as much as it helped me! i know i’ve been writing all of these, but something about creating content like this really motivates me to keep moving forward with my own self improvement journey.

i hope you guys always know i’m with you every step of the way in this journey. you never have to walk it alone, trust me! i know i always talk about being there for yourself, but other people (who are genuinely worth it, of course) can be there for you too! we’ve all got the same goal: to better ourselves. it’s going to be a difficult and long journey, but we’ll make it together!

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[hyuniemyunie]

Valentine's Day ⋆˚☆˖°

sonic characters! (some of them)

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): all romantic, except tails. silver the hedgehog x gn!reader, established relationship, fluff, long distance angst. shadow the hedgehog x gn!reader, confession, first kiss, awkward shadow. knuckles the echidna x gn!reader, mutual pining, protective knuckles. rouge the bat x gn!reader, flirty, playful, yet romantic. sonic the hedgehog x gn!reader, ride or die ahh. tails x gn!reader, platonic, found family.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Love Across Time and Space

Silver always knew time was a fragile thing. He had spent his whole life watching it shatter, crumble, and reassemble itself in ways that never felt quite right. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about time in the grand, world-ending way he usually did. He was thinking about how much time he had spent away from you.

Valentine’s Day was meaningless in a ruined future, but with you, it meant something. It meant love, warmth, and all the little moments he had once believed were lost to history. So when he finally managed to pull together enough energy to warp to your timeline, he landed on your doorstep, breathless and unsteady, hands clutching a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he panted, silver quills disheveled, eyes bright with excitement.

You barely had time to react before he was hugging you, holding on like you might disappear if he let go. “I didn’t think you’d make it,” you murmured into his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles ease at your touch.

“I’d tear through time itself to see you,” he whispered, pressing the gift into your hands. Inside was a small, glowing crystal—something he had pulled from the ruins of his future, polished and shaped until it shimmered like a star. “So even when I’m not here, you have a little piece of me.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You held it close, knowing he had fought against fate itself just to be here, to bring you this. You kissed him, slow and lingering, pouring all the love he had missed into one perfect moment.

No matter what time tried to take from him, he would always, always find his way back to you.

Love in the Shadows

Shadow didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day.

It was frivolous. Commercialized. A human construct designed to make people feel lonely, or worse—forced into performative displays of affection.

And yet.

Here he was, standing at your door, holding a single, freshly picked rose. He wasn’t even sure why he had grabbed it. Maybe because Rouge told him showing up empty-handed would be “pathetic,” or maybe because he had seen the way you admired flowers, even the most insignificant ones.

You opened the door, surprised to see him. “Shadow?”

He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the stem of the rose a little too hard. “I… was in the area.” A lie. He had walked here. On purpose. “Here.” He thrust the rose toward you like it was a weapon. “For you.”

You took it carefully, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

Shadow stiffened. “At what?”

“Romance.”

His ears twitched. “...Is that what this is?”

You stepped closer, looking up at him. “Why else would you be here?”

Shadow opened his mouth, then closed it, red eyes darting away. The silence stretched, but you didn’t rush him. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “I think about you too much,” he admitted, voice quiet. “It’s… distracting. But when I don’t see you, it’s worse.”

Your heart pounded. “Shadow, are you saying—”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he interrupted. “But if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it.”

Before you could react, he kissed you—brief, uncertain, like he was afraid he had made a mistake. But when he pulled back, he saw your stunned expression, the way your fingers touched your lips, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like running away.

Fists, Fireworks, and Feelings

Knuckles had never been good with words.

He could fight off entire armies, guard the Master Emerald with unwavering dedication, and endure the crushing weight of loneliness, but the idea of telling you how he felt? Impossible.

So when he saw someone bothering you at the marketplace—some overly pushy vendor who wouldn’t take no for an answer—he didn’t think. He acted.

“Back off,” he growled, stepping between you and the merchant, towering over them with a glare that could melt steel.

The vendor stammered out an apology and scurried away. You blinked up at Knuckles, wide-eyed. “Uh. Thanks?”

Knuckles crossed his arms, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating. “You shouldn’t let people push you around,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. “I was handling it.”

He hesitated. “...I know.” His ears burned. “I just don’t like seeing people mess with you.”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Knuckles, are you being protective?”

“No,” he blurted, then immediately sighed. “Maybe.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Because you like me?”

His entire body tensed. He turned away, rubbing the back of his head, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

You stepped closer. “What was that?”

“I said yes,” he grumbled. “Happy?”

Your laughter made his stomach flip. “Yeah, actually.”

And then you kissed his cheek—just a quick, playful peck—and Knuckles, the mighty guardian of Angel Island, went completely red, utterly speechless.

A Thief's Heart

Rouge loved shiny things.

She loved jewels, rare artifacts, and anything that glittered under the moonlight. But above all, she loved the things she couldn’t have.

Which was why she was currently lounging on your windowsill, one leg crossed over the other, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall. “You say that like you ever give me time to miss you.”

She chuckled, gracefully dropping down from the windowsill. “I can’t help it. You’re my favorite heist.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Heist?”

She tapped a manicured finger against your chest. “You stole my heart first.”

Your face heated up. “That was… disgustingly smooth.”

“I know.” She leaned in, voice softer now. “But I mean it.”

For all her bravado, there was something genuine in the way she looked at you—something unguarded, just for you. You swallowed, trying to keep up with her pace. “So… is this where you sweep me off my feet and take me away?”

Rouge hummed, pretending to think. “Tempting. But I’d rather stay right here.”

She kissed you then, slow and deliberate, her hands tracing over your shoulders like she was mapping every inch of you. When she pulled away, she grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sugar.”

And just like that, she was gone, slipping back into the shadows—but not before leaving a single, heart-shaped ruby in your palm.

She may have been a thief, but tonight, she was the one who had given something away.

Love at the Speed of Sound

Dating Sonic was like trying to hold onto a summer breeze—he was fast, untouchable, and always on the move. But somehow, against all odds, he always found his way back to you.

Which was why, on Valentine’s Day, you weren’t expecting anything too special. Sonic wasn’t exactly the chocolates-and-roses type. You figured maybe a quick visit, a few jokes, and then he’d be off, chasing another adventure.

What you didn’t expect was him showing up at your door, grinning ear to ear, holding a blindfold.

“Uh,” you said, eyeing it. “Do I even want to know?”

“Oh, c’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?” Sonic wiggled the blindfold in front of you. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

You sighed but let him tie it over your eyes. The next thing you knew, he had scooped you into his arms, wind rushing past as he took off running.

Your stomach flipped as he skidded to a stop. “Okay, ready?”

He tugged the blindfold off, and your breath caught. You were standing at the peak of a cliff, overlooking an endless ocean. The sunset turned the sky into a painting of pink and gold, waves crashing below. It was breathtaking.

Sonic leaned against the railing, smirking. “Not bad, huh?”

You turned to him. “You ran me all the way out here just for a view?”

“Nah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, yeah, it’s nice and all, but… I just wanted to spend today with you. No running off, no bad guys. Just us.”

Your heart melted. For all his speed, for all his need to be anywhere but standing still, he had chosen to stop—just for you.

He stretched out a hand. “So… what do you say? Wanna watch the sunset with me?”

You took his hand, fingers lacing together. “I’d race you to it, but we both know I’d lose.”

Sonic laughed. “Yeah, but I’d let you win just this once.”

And for once, he didn’t run away.

Genius at Work

Tails had been locked in his workshop all day. You weren’t surprised—once he got lost in a project, hours could pass without him realizing it. But it was Valentine’s Day, and you weren’t about to let him spend it cooped up with nothing but blueprints and half-finished gadgets.

You knocked on the door. “Tails? You in there?”

A crash, a muffled “Ow,” and then, “Uh—yeah! Hold on!”

A moment later, he opened the door, goggles perched on his forehead, fur smudged with oil. “Oh! Hey, What’s up?”

You held up a small box. “Figured you’d forget to eat, so I brought you something.”

His ears perked up, tails wagging slightly. “Oh! Thanks!” He took the box, opening it to reveal a homemade meal, carefully packed. His eyes softened. “You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” You leaned against the doorway. “You do a lot for everyone, Tails. Thought someone should return the favor.”

He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed but clearly touched. “I guess I do get carried away sometimes…”

You grinned. “That’s what I’m here for—to remind you to actually be human. Or, well… fox.”

Tails laughed. “Well, in that case—wanna see what I’ve been working on?”

You knew what that meant: hours of enthusiastic explanations, endless tinkering, and getting caught up in his excitement. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sweeter Than Candy

Amy had never been subtle about her feelings. She loved love. She believed in grand gestures, romantic confessions, and fairytale endings.

So when she showed up at your door on Valentine’s Day, holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates, you knew exactly what was coming.

She took a deep breath, gripping the box like it was a lifeline. “Okay! I rehearsed this, but now that I’m actually here, I’m kinda panicking—”

You reached out, gently squeezing her hand. “Amy. Breathe.”

She exhaled. “Right. Okay. Here goes.” She thrust the chocolates toward you. “I like you.”

You blinked. “I—”

“Like, a lot,” she continued, words tumbling out in a rush. “Like, more-than-friends like. Like, every time I see you, my heart does this stupid little happy dance, and I think you’re amazing, and I—”

“Amy.” You smiled, taking the chocolates from her hands. “I like you too.”

She froze. “You—wait, really?”

You laughed. “Yeah, really.”

Amy made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. “Oh my gosh! Okay, um—wait, I had a whole speech planned, and now I—wait, no, that doesn’t matter, because—you like me back!”

She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight, her hammer clattering to the ground as she forgot everything else. You hugged her just as tightly, warmth blooming in your chest.

Amy pulled back, eyes sparkling. “So does this mean I can call you my Valentine?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… I dunno. What’s in it for me?”

She gasped dramatically. “Rude!”

You laughed, and before she could protest, you leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Of course, I’m your Valentine.”

Amy beamed. “Best. Valentine’s Day. EVER.”

[solxamber]

For the event, could I request Leona, romantic, with "Waiting on the Sun" by Citizen Soldier? First time listening to this after discovering Twisted had me wailing in the car haha

i was crying at the club when i heard it... it suits leona so well oh my god

Waiting on the Sun || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Waiting on the Sun by Citizen Soldier

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1010

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Realization of feelings

Leona has never been one for dreams.

Dreams are a fool’s game, a glimmer of hope strung out in front of desperate people, forcing them to chase something they’ll never catch. He learned early on that hope was nothing but a pretty lie wrapped in a silver ribbon, and in the end, the ribbon always frayed.

The world never made space for second sons, and the sun never rose for men like him.

He should have stopped waiting for it years ago.

But somehow, you're still here—sitting beside him in the shade of a tree, legs stretched out, your presence quiet yet steady. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t need you to. That’s what he likes about you. You don’t fill the silence with empty words or meaningless comfort. You don’t try to fix him, like so many others before you.

You just exist beside him and that’s enough.

Leona doesn’t remember when you became his safe place.

At some point, your presence became a constant, as natural as the way he stretches out on the grass for an afternoon nap or the way the sun burns through the endless sky. You were just there—like an inevitable force of nature.

And damn if he doesn’t resent how much he needs it.

Because he does need it. He needs you in ways he’ll never admit aloud, in ways that make his stomach twist and his throat tighten. You make it so easy to believe, even when he’s spent a lifetime telling himself not to.

Somewhere along the way, you learned him too well. You can tell when his bitterness sharpens, when his patience wears thin, when he’s barely holding onto the threads of his temper. You don’t try to drag him into the light, but you don’t let him drown in the dark, either.

Instead, you just sit with him.

Like now.

Leona exhales, tipping his head back against the rough bark of the tree. The weight of the past few days lingers in his bones, making him feel heavier than usual. The exhaustion never fully leaves—it clings to him like a second skin.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Your voice is soft, cutting through the stillness.

Leona cracks an eye open. “Doubt it.”

You huff, barely phased by his dry remark. “You think nothing’s ever going to change. That you’re stuck in a cycle you can’t break. That waiting for things to get better is pointless.”

He stiffens, the words settling deep in his chest like stones. “You got all that just from lookin’ at me?”

“I got all that from knowing you.”

That shouldn’t make his heart stutter the way it does.

He doesn’t say anything, just turns his gaze back to the horizon. It stretches on endlessly, a vast expanse of golden plains and open sky. The view should be freeing. Instead, it feels like a cage with invisible walls.

A future that will never belong to him.

A throne that will never be his.

A world that will never see him as anything more than the spare.

The sun has never risen for men like him.

“I know what you’re going to say next,” he mutters. “That I should ‘keep trying.’ That things’ll ‘work out’ eventually. That if I just—”

“I’m not going to say that.”

He stops.

You tilt your head, a gentle smile pulling at your lips. “I’m not here to tell you to change. I’m not here to tell you things will magically get better. I just…” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tentative and warm. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to shoulder it alone.”

His breath catches.

No one has ever said that to him before.

No one has ever meant it before.

Leona has spent his whole life carrying the weight of his own bitterness, his own resentment, his own failures. No one ever told him he could set it down. No one ever offered to help him hold it.

No one but you.

His fingers twitch under yours.

Leona has never been one for dreams.

But when he looks at you, he wonders if maybe, he’s been waiting on the wrong thing all this time.

He doesn’t realize he’s in love with you until much later.

Maybe it’s the way you laugh, soft and easy, like the world has never once hurt you. Maybe it’s the way you look at him—like he’s not a disappointment, not a failure, not a second son who never mattered. Maybe it’s the way you never push him to be anything other than who he is.

Maybe it’s everything.

But when he finally does realize, it hits him like a landslide.

And suddenly, he’s terrified.

Because what if he loses this?

What if he loses you?

Leona doesn’t pray, but he does now.

He prays that you never leave. That you never wake up one day and decide that he’s too much trouble, that he’s too broken, that he’ll never be what you deserve.

He prays that this feeling—the quiet warmth that seeps into his bones whenever you’re around—never fades.

And yet, he still can’t bring himself to say it.

Not yet.

The words finally escape him on a night like this—under a sky filled with stars, your hand resting lightly in his, your head against his shoulder.

“Stay.” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

You shift slightly, peering up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales sharply, his grip tightening around yours. “No, I mean—” His throat works, the words catching like sandpaper. “Stay with me.”

Understanding dawns in your eyes, and for a moment, he thinks you might say no. That you might turn away.

But then you smile—soft, warm, home.

“Okay.”

Leona doesn’t believe in miracles.

But when you press your lips to his, slow and tender and real, he thinks that maybe the sun has been shining on him all along.

He just hadn’t noticed.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[yandere-sins]

Kicking my feet and twirling my hair at your yandere König and Ghost headcanons💕 could I request some headcanons on how they'd react at escape attempts/successful escapes please?

Of course! Thanks for requesting! ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

König

♡ One word: panic. It's not a slowly developing feeling, either. When he can't find you in your room, his stomach twists as he waltzes into the bathroom instead. At this point, his pulse begins ringing in his ears, and his breaths come out as slow pushes of air. König realizes how wrong his home feels, how there's no sign of you there, and the panic that overcomes him is just about to explode like a grenade on the battlefield—it builds up and then peng! It's too quiet, too cold, and the thought of you having left is one of pure horror. If anyone would measure his tension, his body would break all means of detecting it, every muscle so taut they could snap at any given moment, and every one of his movements deliberate and deadly. König tries to think about what he's done wrong and why you'd do this to him, but he manages to push these thoughts aside for later. He needs to focus, needs to keep his wits up. Part of him hopes you didn't leave him because you wanted to. Another part hopes very much that you weren't forced to leave him just to spare you from the horrors that you could possibly encounter because of that. Then again, if someone was as bold as to kidnap you, König would at least have an outlet for all the rage, frustration, and madness he is feeling; the thought of breaking some bones suddenly so tempting.

♡ And yet, König is never more in control than in moments like this. Despite his panic and anxiety about losing you, he could never concentrate better than now that he has to get you back. And he has to; he needs to. Needs you. His life is meaningless without you in it, and he needs to cradle you in his arms and know you're okay just so he can fucking breathe again. He has his means of finding out where you are and is not shy about using them. You'll come to dread the day you got stalked by someone so big and tall that it should have been impossible. But once he's behind you, your escape is over, and with it, any other possibility that you'll ever be able to try again. If he has to put you in an underground bunker, tied up and unable to do anything without him, then so be it. But König can't lose you again. He might as well die if you ever manage to get away. Ultimately, it will be his tense, unyielding hands dragging you back, even as he coos sweet promises into your ear. That everything will be okay now, that he'll protect you. But he'll be much more possessive and needy after your attempt, and you only have yourself to blame for what he's going to do with you once he has you back in the safety of his arms.

Ghost

♡ Physically, you might already be far, far away from Ghost. Yet, you can still feel his disappointment and hear him sigh, even if it's all just subconsciously. There's something especially bitter about the fact he went out to get you some nice food you like, thinking about how much he'll enjoy watching you eat it on his way back and imaging the taste on your lips as he steals kisses from you, only to come back to this. Nothing. Emptiness and the remains of his heart getting shredded by explosive bangs of heartache. He thought things were improving between you two, but that escape was on him. He shouldn't have trusted you quite this much, though it really fucking hurts that you did it. He's been good to you, hasn't he? Loved you well, fucked you well, spent all his damn money to make you comfortable. You can run all you want, but you can't deny the few times you leaned in for a cuddle—even if it was subconsciously—or asked him for something, and he got it for you without thinking twice. You might think running is the right option, but are you even aware of what you're running away from? By all means, he was a perfect partner (aside from forcing you into this relationship, but it was for the greater good of you both being together). And yet, you'd betray him like this. Run away when things get rough. When they aren't up to your standards. Ghost must have spoiled you rotten, eh? Pity because he won't make the same mistakes twice.

♡ Ghost doesn't need anyone or anything to track you down. He might have a tracker on you, part of him always admiring your rebellious nature and knowing the day would come, but he knows you. He knows you too well. He studied your thoughts like no one else, perhaps knowing even better than you what you're thinking. And though he's gripping the steering wheel of the car he's using to catch up to you, to the point of either his fingers or the material they're wrapped around cracking, when he does find you, he's eerily calm. He knew the way you'd run, knew which bushes you'd hide behind, and now that he caught up, you really have no choice but to surrender. Ghost wouldn't let you win in a fight on his good days, much less days ruined by your idiocity. So you can choose to get in defeatedly or have him drag you into the car with no guarantee he won't hurt you. It's not like your tears leave him cold. The dead look on your face or how you jerk when he brushes your hair back, feeling like ice picks stabbed into his heart. He hates arguing with you. He hates being angry with you. It's on you this time, though. But at least, if you're cooperative, the only way he'll let you know how mad he is, is by holding your thigh in his hand on the drive, gripping it painfully rigid as he drives you two back, thinking about whether or not to break your leg as a lesson. No promises on if he will act on these thoughts, though—you really messed up this time and deserve the lesson, don't you? Better start appeasing him before you get home, and he gets to have you all to himself again, just like he always wanted.

[tossawary]

Moshang fanfic idea that I've been holding onto for a while but have no strong plot for: the Airplane Extras meet-ugly happens as per canon UNTIL Mobei-Jun asks why Shang Qinghua saved him / what Shang Qinghua wants from him.

At which point, a panicking Airplane desperately searches for a compelling and believable character motivation as to why he would stupidly save the life of a murderous demon who might still kill him, and hastily blurts out: "You're so beautiful that I fell in love at first sight!"

Important to note: this is not true. It is bullshit. Airplane thinks MBJ is incredibly hot, obviously, but he does not know or like this guy as a person, because MBJ is both a relative stranger and a scary asshole.

Also important to note: some demon cultures have a marriage kidnapping tradition, but that happens under very specific and usually pre-arranged circumstances that obviously do not apply here. Mobei-Jun being whisked off to the equivalent of a shitty motel room by some random human outer disciple, who absolutely cannot forcibly keep him there, has no real romantic connotations. It's just weird. There's not even any life debt tradition aspect to it; Mobei-Jun could just kill this guy now and it wouldn't say anything about his personal honor even if anyone found out. It would just be humiliating. This guy would have to be fucking nuts to think this interaction is anything that anyone, especially any authority, would recognize, and that's not what this guy is claiming anyway. All he's doing is claiming that he's suddenly in love with a hostile stranger, which is still nuts.

So, Mobei-Jun (who is also still a teenager) is just... surprised and extremely confused. Does this kind of thing... honestly happen... in real life? Really??? And Airplane is like, "Aw, fuck, I made it weird. Well! I have no choice but to go with this!" and starts up the "Please don't kill me!" thigh-hugging routine.

Somehow, Moshang make it out of that meet-ugly similarly to how they usually do. Airplane is like, "Well, fortunately, nothing will ever come of this! No way would someone like Mobei-Jun ever return the feelings of his gross, pathetic human servant. I can freely express how sexy I think he is and it'll just be meaningless lovesick flattery to this asshole." Real emotions? That soft, squishy bullshit? Airplane does not have the TIME to contemplate having sincere feelings. He's in survival mode.

And teenage Mobei-Jun, spoiled demonic nobility extraordinaire, who otherwise would have spent the next 20 years or so thinking of his human servant as gross and pathetic and repulsive but strangely useful, is like, "I think... I'm being wooed...??? Is this working on me...? He's kind of... not unattractive, actually, for a madman. Maybe I should try to be... nice... to him??? How do humans do this???"

And THEN, months to years later, young and in-love Mobei-Jun somehow finds out that Shang Qinghua outright lied to him. (And by this point is pretty fond of Mobei-Jun but still hasn't looked directly at his own real emotions for years. He's busy.)

Arguably, the above idea is one way to interpret normal canon already, with Mobei-Jun reading more than is mutually understood into Shang Qinghua's bullshit, failing to communicate what he thinks their relationship is (if he even fucking knows himself), and then feeling betrayed when Shang Qinghua ditches him for being an asshole. But I'm charmed by the idea of distracted Shang Qinghua explicitly lying, actively making it WORSE by knowingly behaving "romantically" under the assumption that it's harmless fawning because Mobei-Jun basically doesn't even HAVE emotions, and then getting totally blindsided by having his "impossible unrequited love" returned and accidentally, apparently breaking Mobei-Jun's heart. Fuck!!!

[connorsui]

More than luxury - Sylus

Sylus x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Sylus, a man who has spent his life chasing luxury and success, finds himself increasingly disillusioned by the hollow comforts of his opulent lifestyle

Genre/Warnings: pure fluff, soft moments, longing, sylus wanting a comfort life with you, no warnings we die in marshmallows

Note: sylus got that money money...like ...billion ..type of money ...

Sylus had always been drawn to the finest things life had to offer. His days were filled with high-end cars, exclusive parties, and luxurious penthouses overlooking the city skyline. He’d spent years chasing after these things, convinced that they would bring him happiness. But now, sitting alone in his sleek apartment, surrounded by all the trappings of success, he felt a hollowness he couldn’t shake.

It was in those quiet moments when his thoughts would inevitably drift to you.

Your life couldn’t be more different from his. While he spent his nights at glittering events, you were in your kitchen, baking something sweet, the aroma filling your small but cozy apartment. You didn’t need much to be happy—a cup of tea, a good book, maybe a favorite movie playing in the background.

Sylus found himself captivated by the simplicity of your world. He often made excuses to visit—dropping by under the pretense of needing to discuss something trivial or offering to pick you up on his way home. But really, he was just desperate for a glimpse into the life you led.

He would linger in your apartment longer than necessary, pretending to be interested in whatever small talk you offered, but really, he was soaking in the atmosphere. There was something grounding about your space, something that made him feel more connected to the world, more at peace. He marveled at how you could find joy in the small things—a new recipe you wanted to try, a potted plant you’d picked up from the market, or the soft glow of string lights you’d hung across your window.

Sometimes, he’d catch himself lost in thought, imagining what it would be like to come home to you. To walk through the door after a long day and be greeted by the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen, to hear your laughter as you told him about something silly that happened during your day. The idea of slipping into this routine, of being part of your world, was both foreign and deeply appealing to him.

He imagined helping you in the kitchen, albeit awkwardly, chopping vegetables under your patient guidance. The two of you would bump into each other, laugh at his lack of culinary skills, and eventually settle into a rhythm that felt easy and right. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he wanted—this kind of domestic bliss—but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When he was alone in his cold, modern apartment, the luxury he had once craved felt empty. The sleek, stainless steel appliances, the minimalist decor—they all seemed meaningless without you there to share them with. He found himself wondering when his priorities had shifted. When had he started longing for something more than just wealth and success?

Sylus didn’t have all the answers, but he knew that he wanted you to be a part of his life. More than that, he wanted to be a part of yours. He was willing to leave behind the life he had built if it meant he could have something real with you.

So the next time he saw you, he didn’t make an excuse to leave quickly. Instead, he stayed. He asked about your day, offered to help with dinner, and when you laughed at his clumsy attempts, he couldn’t help but smile. He felt like he was finally where he was meant to be.

And as you sat together at your small dining table, the two of you sharing a meal, Sylus realized that this—this simple, quiet moment—was worth more than all the luxury in the world.

Sylus shall live in my chamber of poor pillows

[p1utofairy]

🕸 WHAT DOES YOUR PERSON WANT TO TELL YOU RIGHT NOW?

NOTE — for entertainment purposes only. take what resonates & leave what doesn't. y’all i can’t believe october is almost over already, like woah?! ugh this took me a couple days to finish but here’s a treat for you all <3 my lil boo bears. 🎃👻

PILE ONE.

heyyyy pile 1 i just wanna start by saying WHEWWW your person does not play about you! they have such high regard for you it’s honestly so cute. they see you as the full package. if not you, than who? is just how they feel. it’s honestly weighing on them so heavy that they’re not in connection with you right now in the 3D – they feel like something in their life is missing and they can’t quite put their finger on it but on a soul-level they know it’s you. their soul craves your warm touch, your genuine love and affection. nothing/no-one could ever come close to the way that you love them and vice versa.

you both are like two peas in a pod lol ‘birds of a feather’ by billie eilish just started playing in my head. your person has a very child-like/mercurial energy to them that they suppress, but it comes out whenever you’re in their presence. they can’t help but feel giddy inside, because your smile is just so sweet and cute. they want me to tell you that you heal a part of them that they never knew was wounded. you have a knack for picking up on people’s unspoken feelings/trauma/baggage that they carry heavy on their heart, and you make them feel seen and heard. that is one of the things that your person loves about you the most, pile 1. your compassion and empathy – you know what to say and how to say it. your person probably had to become independent at a really young age, and they’re telling me that it wasn’t easy but they look at life so much differently when it comes to you. you give them motivation and strength to confidently take on anything that life throws at them.

they’re used to putting on a mask and pretending like they have everything together when they really don’t, but this connection with you is really going to make them sit and reflect on their own inner child wounds and work through it. this connection with you will allow them to feel the joy and love that they never truly received in their childhood. they’ve spent a lot of their time moving from one meaningless connection to the next, searching for something that could fill the void but nothing has worked.

for some of you, your person could struggle with substance abuse or overindulging in things that aren’t good for them. it might not be so extreme but they could smoke a lot of weed or cigarettes. for others of you, your person might be on again/off again with a karmic ex but i see them leaving this all behind and getting their bad habits under control before they come into contact with you. it’s not even like they truly want to indulge in those things/situations, but something triggered them to the point of needing some type of escape. when they feel scared or hurt they feel like a child again, searching for some sort of a comfort and safe space. they’re not proud of it but they want me to tell you that they’re just really overwhelmed right now.

however, there’s quite literally nothing they wouldn’t do for you, pile 1. they always want to make you smile and laugh no matter what. right now they don’t feel like they’re in the right position to move towards you because there’s a few external influences that are halting y’alls connection right now, but trust me their spirit guides are working on it. this person might not have the greatest reputation but they’re actively trying to do better, especially for you. they’re tired of falling into the same situations and cycles with the same karmic people. your person wants me to tell you that they can’t wait to be with you and to finally hold you in their arms. they want you to know that you’ll always be safe with them and that they will always have your back no matter what. your wish is their command, pile 1. TOO CUTE. ahhhhh 11:11 on the clock wow.

other channeled messages:

leave you alone jeezy ft. ne-yo, needy by ariana grande, wifey material, you already know this person, there’s somebody in your inner circle you need to cut off, bianca and cameron from 10 things i hate about you, air sign venus, 11H placements.

PILE TWO.

pile 222 what’s up! my mind over matter pile, i dig it lol. you have no problem revoking your energy back from anyone or any situation that doesn’t serve you any good, and your person genuinely loves that about you so much. you know your worth, and even if it comes down to someone or something you truly value and care for, if it’s not in alignment with you, you’re out the door! i’m hearing ‘deuces’ by [redacted redacted] i’m moving on to somethin' better, better, better. no more tryna make it work. YEAH very much that.

your person does want me to tell you that you need to step out of your comfort zone and stop playing things so safe – let loose and have a little fun. i feel like you guard your heart and could possibly have some trust issues – it’s like your flight or fight kicks in when it comes to intimacy/romance. some of you that picked this pile might have capricorn placements? it’s like you’re a lover at heart but not everyone gets to see that side of you, especially people that pursue you romantically. you’re like AHT AHT hold it right there! now ‘motive’ by ariana grande ft. doja cat is coming to mind lol cause i see you tryin', subliminally tryin' to see if i’m gon' be the one that's in your arms. i admit it's exciting, parts of me kinda like it. but before i lead you on…baby, tell me, what's your motive? mhm that’s your vibe, pile 2. whereas your person is more action-based and just jumps right in and goes for it with no hesitation. whatever they feel/think, they act on.

there’s gonna be a bit of a push and pull energy between you two lol you might not know how to take your person at first. you might be like ummm….what is this? LMAOOO honestly this is amusing because both you and your person’s energies compliment each other so well but y’alls approach to love is completely different. you’re more of a “well why would i waste my time?” type of a person whereas they look at it like “if it works out it works out, if not…life goes on.” your person could have prominent aries and/or aquarius placements as well. 1:11 on the clock omg.

i think this person will check all the boxes that you want in a partner though. they may not seem that way in terms of their approach, but they will be a real devoted and dependable partner when it comes to you. currently there is a flighty energy about them, they seem to be a bit all over the place. for some of you, your person is dealing with a situationship/ex and trying to close out that cycle. also picking up a very specific message (for a very small group of y’all) that this person could already have a kid or have a kid on the way which was kind of unexpected and has created some sort of emotional turmoil for them. either way, whatever situation your person is currently facing, it’s ultimately pushing them to mature and take responsibility so that when they approach you they can really show you that they want the real deal and they’re not just playing games. they’re gonna come all the way correct lol they know you deserve the best and that’s exactly how they’re going to show up and out for you.

other channeled messages:

temperature by sean paul, i wanna be down by brandi, having deep conversations, stay ready by jhené aiko ft kendrick, no by meghan trainor, 10:10.

PILE THREE.

hiii pile 3! if you feel called to it, check out pile 2 as well there might be messages in there for you too. your person wants me to tell you that they feel a little bit restless right now lol like they���re from one thing to the next. they’ve been feeling really bored and stagnant and now they’re ready for something new. ooo ‘something new’ by zendaya ft [redacted redacted] is coming to mind don’t know your name, but i guess i really don't care. i probably should wait, but i wanna let you go there. right now your person is undergoing a big transformation, emotionally and spiritually. they’re shedding a lot of their past toxic behaviors and limited beliefs so that they can be more grounded and take responsibility for their own lives.

they’ve been through a lot this past year, but no more of the blame game, they’re taking ownership. i’m ngl you’re gonna have your person sprung lol they want me to tell you that they find you sexy af and you’re exactly the type of partner they want/dream of. you have a very commanding presence, whether you know that or not, and you’re gonna have them entranced like OMG wrapped around your finger.

for some of you, you might feel insecure about your body or wish you had less of this and more of that but guess what?! they’re gonna love you DOWN like they can’t believe someone as enticing as you actually exists. ‘down on me’ by jeremih ft 50 cent just started playing in my mind lol your person is so funny (and horny for you) BYE lmaooooo. they’re a very straightforward person, but they want you to know that they respect you so fucking much and they’d never dream of making you feel uncomfortable or objectified.

i’m also getting that you two could meet at a party/club of some kind and/or meet through mutual friends possibly. there’s gonna be sparks between you two right off the bat, but you might play hard to get in the beginning just for the fuck of it lol that’s just gonna make your person want you even more. ngl things might move fast between y’all hehe some of y’all might just hookup with your person off the rip cause they’re just soooo charming, pile 2. like even if you do hold out on them in the beginning, you’re gonna eventually fold cause the chemistry between y’all is HOT AF like i’m sweating. just randomly thought of mr and mrs smith, whew!

other channeled messages:

caught up by usher, wanna be by glorilla & megan thee stallion, cocky af by megan thee stallion, new car, don’t tell everything you know, shravana, touch my body by mariah carey, boyfriend by justin bieber, sex on the beach by partynextdoor, klaus & caroline from the vampire diaries, prominent mars, moon-mars synastry.

PILE FOUR.

pile 4, omg. i feel so warm and fuzzy like wow your person wants you to know that they don’t see anyone else but you. that don’t want to be with anyone else but you. they’re drawn to you like a moth to a flame. ‘closer’ by ne-yo immediately came to mind lol turn the lights off in this place and she shines just like a star. and i swear i know her face…i just don't know who you are. they find you so mesmerizing it’s honestly so adorable. your person is gonna go the extra mile to court you, pile 4. they feel like you deserve all the finer things in life and they will give that to you.

your person is proof that chivalry is not dead because WOW when i tell you that this person is so respectful, kind, generous and dependable…i truly mean it. they see you for what you are, a star. they want me to tell you that they’re going to be so devoted to you and they’re going to show you that there is so much more to life than just work work work work. you’re a busy bee, pile 4. you’re constantly working and pushing yourself to achieve your goals to the point that you sometimes forget to just relax and allow yourself to just be.

your person wants me to tell you that they’re coming into your life sooner than you think. 11:11 on the clock wow. they’re gonna bring so much joy and abundance into your life! you’re going to be so happy and at peace whenever you’re with them, it’s like they just make everything easier. your person loves how wise you are and how you never fold under pressure – that to them is sooo incredibly sexy.

they’re a go-getter as well, so you two together is truly gonna be a force to be reckoned with – it’s giving power couple. your person could have prominent 10H placements and you could have cancer/4h placements. i’m seeing so much yellow, wow. they really embody solar plexus energy and will help you to be more confident and unapologetic with the way you look and feel. you both elevate each other in so many ways it’s amazing, pile 4. i feel like they’re going to open you up to trying new things & you’re really going to feel liberated.

your person isn’t used to settling down and being in a committed relationship for long, but they want the whole 9 with you. they’re telling me that they will really work hard to make things right with you. they can admit that they’ve been selfish and have been putting themselves first in this connection, but they’re putting their best foot forward now to be the partner that you need them to be. they were being greedy and inconsiderate in the past, and they truly regret that but accountability is the first step for them and now they know how to move accordingly to come into this connection with a healthy mindset and genuine love.

they want me to tell you that you’re a diamond and they’re aware that you don’t go for just anything so they are not going to approach you with just anything lol they are getting their shit together so that they can give you everything plus more. you’ll see ;) your person is so amazing pile 4 i love this for you eeeekkk.

other channeled messages:

shawty is da sh*! by the dream & fabolous, diva by beyoncé, 420, dangerous woman by ariana grande, numb by rihanna ft. eminem, initials J N B or C, ex lingering, 4th house.

[haikyu-mp4]

High school sweethearts

“Did you hear about aone? I heard that he started dating that one popular girl! But you didn't hear that from me!!” – @sharkissm for my Gossip Event.

word count; 686 – f!reader

Aone did an uncharacteristic double take the first time it happened, the first time you came to one of his games and cheered for him after a successful block. You were of another world to him, so perfect in the way you were not only beautiful but also so kind and charismatic. People wanted to be around you, unlike Aone who always sat alone on the train.

So he also couldn’t believe it when you sat down beside him on the train one day, smiling so kindly and asking him if the seat was free. He nodded silently, gulping and fumbling with his fingers as you sat down. Your knee knocked into his and he almost felt like blushing. You’re just so cool.

“I watched your game the other day, it was awesome!” you gushed, flipping out your phone and showing him a video you had taken of him blocking the last point, then the camera turned to your face as you screamed in cheers for your school’s team. If he heard correctly, you even yelled his name in particular. “I would be so scared to break my fingers or something if I blocked like that.” As you said this, you held a hand out, showing off your perfect gel nails.

Aone admired them, making a sound of approval at the cool design in the school’s colours. “They are very pretty, breaking them or your fingers would be a shame.” It was said as a clear statement, and his deep voice made your eyes widen.

“Thank you,” you said softly at the compliment, eyes glittering. Surely, his eyes were betraying him because it looked like you were blushing too. “My nail artist is great…” And then you spent the rest of the train ride telling him about anything that came to mind, about your nails and your schoolwork and him.

A few days later, Futakuchi let out the biggest huh when you came to the gym doors and asked for Aone. “Class project?” he asked, somewhat protective of the big friendly giant.

“No,” you answered simply, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him as a playful challenge. “So? Can I talk to him?”

“We have to practise, princess-“ Futakuchi started, holding up his finger, only to be interrupted by a shadow behind him.

“I can take a short break.”

The captain turned around slowly to see his best friend, scrunching his nose trying to think of something to say before slumping his shoulders in defeat and stomping off. “Five minutes.”

You looked at Aone, the sparkle back in your eyes that he still couldn’t believe had anything to do with him. “Sorry. What did you need?”

Licking your lips and tucking some hair behind your ear, you asked him if he was free after practice, earning you a quick yes from Aone and a distant complaint from Koganegawa about team-building activities.

That evening you spent talking over your instant ramen cups in the closest konbibi became your first date.

And a first date eventually turned into dating.

Aone’s cheering squad was the loudest for every game, and you lavishly spoiled him with attention and care that made him feel like he was soft, not just big and scary.

In return, he gave you comfort and always listened. Whether it was seemingly meaningless yapping or serious conversations about life’s many trials, he was always there for you.

A power couple, one must admit.

Even Futakuchi admitted it after you got the principal to make all the arrangements for when they got to nationals in their third year, also making sure every student who could go, came to cheer for the Iron Wall.

And as Aone looked up at you in the stands, you cheered just as loudly as you did the first time he caught your eye, and you looked just as gorgeous to him no matter what happened. Even at night, all makeup off and bawling your eyes out over a sappy movie with toilet paper stuck in your nose to stop it from running.

Always his beautiful girlfriend, who just happened to be very popular.

masterlist

[remlionheart]

NSFW Alphabet: Chuuya Nakahara Edition ♡

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ MDNI. really needed a fun lil drabble to break up my writer's block and this was perfect. silly but super fun to write. lemme know whatcha think. luv u ♡ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Chuuya definitely gives you aftercare, it's just not always the most well thought out when he’s gotten back from a long night at work. He doesn't remember to have dinner ready or pajamas laid out, but he still holds you as you collapse onto his chest. Laughs with you while the two of you place the 4th doordash order of the week to his apartment since you're both too spent to even think about cooking. He runs light fingers through your hair and kisses your forehead, teasing you for how hard you came while also reminding you of how fuckin' gorgeous you looked bent over for him. The thought of it alone promptly brings his lips back to yours, nearly earning you a round 2 before the food arrives.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It takes Chuuya a long time to admit it, even if it's fairly obvious, but he's self-conscious about his body. About the way he thinks it should look versus the way it actually does. He’s always praising you. Always so good about making you love parts of yourself that you didn't know you could, though he rarely gives himself the same respect. Your thighs get a lot of his attention. He touches them constantly without meaning to. His hand resting on them while he drives. His fingers mindlessly gliding across them while you watch TV before bed. His face buried between them any chance he gets. He loves 'em. You decide to challenge him one day after a shower, using his own words against him: "Chuuya, tell me one thing you love about yourself -" you shoot him a pointed look, not giving him the chance to deflect with his usual sarcasm, "and be serious. You have to mean it." He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, apprehensively looking over his reflection before he lets out a sharp exhale. "Fine. My eyes." "What about them?" You press. "They're... nice."

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

One of Chuuya's favorite highs in life is being pussy-drunk. Being so completely enamored by your taste and scent that he can't physically think of anything else besides you. He loves the feeling of your cum dripping down his chin. The insanely beautiful fucked-out noises you make for him when you sit on his face and nearly drown him in your release. He gets a sick satisfaction in showing up to work, knowing that there are still remnants of the morning head he gave you clinging to the collar of his shirt. You're his girl and he takes making you cum very seriously.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Chuuya is a dominant people pleaser, which is a dangerous combination to begin with, but especially when it starts blending into his finances. Being a Port Mafia executive, he has more money than he knows what to do with and he fucking loves buying you stuff. Taking you on shopping trips and watching you fill bag after bag with frivolous, designer outfits that you’d never buy for yourself otherwise. Swiping his debit card for purses and necklaces and shoes that total out to nearly $10,000. There's something almost addicting about it, he revels in your reactions. The way you look so awestruck every time he drops a fat stack of cash on you, but also how good it makes him feel being able to spoil you as much as he does. Alexa, what does “findom” mean?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Chuuya’s experienced, but a lot of his past hookups were one nightstands or meaningless flings. Drunken mishaps that held little to no weight in his mind. You've both learned a lot from each other by being comfortable enough to explore things you wouldn't have with previous partners. Communication is so strong with him. He always wants to know what you like and if there’s anything you want to try but haven’t yet. He wants to know everything about your body - wants it to only respond to him. He'd had sex in the past, but he realized that he'd never really properly fucked someone until he met you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As much as Chuuya loves bending you over, he’s such a slut for you being on top. Holding your hips to help guide you and thrusting up into you when you’re not expecting it, going as deep as he can while you sink back onto him with a pretty glazed over expression. The way your eyes widen every time he does it. The duality of being in control while also letting you use him. The view of your tits bouncing so perfectly for him while the sound of your ass smacking against his thighs echoes across the room. He loves watching you struggle to take the whole thing. You're usually holding onto him for support, hands clasped around his neck, your stare locked intently with his while your cunt throbs around him. The pouty fucking look that takes over your face when he plunges into you. You become a whimpering mess, trying to tell him how close you are with broken words as if he can’t feel your walls clenching around him. "Chuuya - 'm, I'm gonna -" "I know baby, keep going. Keep fuckin’ going. Doin’ so good f’me.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Chuuya's form of flirting is witty banter. Sarcastic comments that the two of you volley back and forth between each other. He's generally more serious in the moment, but he will literally never pass up the chance to whisper a snarky little nothing in your ear to get you flustered, especially in public. He loves making you blush. Loves knowing that he's capable of getting you so worked up without even touching you. Loves seeing you squirm and swat him away with a feeble, "Chuuya! Not here!"

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Chuuya never really understood the question, "does the carpet match the drapes?" and why it was such a hot topic when it came to redheads. It was wildly irritating growing up and getting asked that so often by his asshole friends. Of course they matched. Why wouldn't they? As an adult, Chuuya fully embraces this though. He takes pride in making sure he's well-groomed. If it were up to him, your lips would always be wrapped around his cock, so he makes sure to keep things as trimmed and polished as he can for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Chuuya is the consent king, always making sure that you're just as into what's going on as he is. He finds subtle ways to check in on you while staying in the moment. "Tell me, baby. Tell me how it feels." He likes to make sure you're present, that you're not thinking about anything else besides the way he feels inside you. He would do anything to make you feel good. Anything. What he can't aways say with his words, he shows through his actions. He lets you know he loves you by stretching and filling you until you can’t see straight. He may act like he’s the one calling the shots, but you'll always cum before he does. He makes damn sure of it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

His work schedule is demanding and doesn't always grant him the amount of time he'd like to have with you, so when he's stuck in his office after hours, Chuuya can't fucking help himself. The urge has been there all. day. and he's certain he'll die if he doesn't take care of it right now. He reaches into his coat pocket, dialing your number while he unzips pants and removes his glove with his teeth. His cellphone is wedged between his shoulder and his cheek when your voice finally spills out of the receiver. Before you can even ask how his night's going, you hear it. That desperate, heady tone that he only gets when he hasn't seen you in a few days. "Baby..." he groans, stroking himself upppp and dowwnn. He closes his eyes, imagining what you must look like lying in his bed. "I need you so fuckin' bad right now." "Yeah?" You tease, quietly slipping two fingers under the hem of your panties. "How bad?" It was only a matter of minutes before he was cleaning off his desk from the mess you'd helped him make.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Chuuya is the softest dom. As much as he likes to be in control, he folds so easily when it comes to you. Even when he’s “punishing” you, he’s doing it with things he knows you like. He loves putting collars on you or wrapping his belt around your neck and pulling at both ends until your pretty little pupils blossom into hearts while you struggle to moan out his name. Hearing you beg does something deranged to him that he can't quite put into words. He stays in control for as long as he can, but you always have the upperhand with how bad he wants to taste you. With how bad he wants to be buried inside of you. He'll tease and nip at you and try to drag it out for as long as he can, but at the end of the day, he's just as addicted to you as you are to him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Chuuya will fuck you anywhere and when he says anywhere, he means it. His favorite guilty pleasure though is definitely bringing you into Port Mafia. Making everyone well-aware of your presence as he walks around with you on his arm like you're the shiniest, most expensive accessory he owns. Shoving all of his paperwork off of his desk and bending you over, pinning your hands behind your back and pressing your face against the handcrafted Mahogany. Hiking up your skirt and ramming himself into you, knowing damn well everyone can hear you crying out his name as you cum. His two favorite pastimes: pissing off Mori and fucking you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Chuuya secretly loves the attention you get when the two of you go out, even if it drives him a bit crazy at times. He can't deny the way his cock twitches when he notices the bartender size you up and then immediately avert his eyes when he feels Chuuya's stare on him. Chuuya knows you're gorgeous, it's an absolute fact for him, but to see the other people reel in how pretty you are too fills him with a feral sense of pride. He would fuck you in front of the entire world if he could just to show them what they'll never have.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There are very few things that Chuuya wouldn't do for you, but the one request he would struggle with if asked would be sharing. Even if it was a casual threesome with no strings attached, he’s a Taurus Sun, Scorpio moon - the man does not share and the thought of having to watch someone else touch you would most definitely send him into a murderous tailspin.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Chuuya loves both giving and receiving, for sure. But there's something about the way you taste that almost makes his brain short-circuit. He thinks about it while he's at work. Thinks about it while he's on missions. Thinks about it while he fucks himself when you're not around. He often finds himself daydreaming about his tongue swirling around your clit and the adorable, pitiful, fucked-out noises you make so easily for him. The way you whine and writhe against him. How he can always tell when you're close by the way your words start to break up. That cute little incoherent babble you let out as he plunges an extra finger into you and your eyes roll into the back of your head. He’s pretty sure that if he had to choose his own death, it would be drowning between your thighs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Pacing all depends on the mood and setting for Chuuya. It's 1 am and you guys just stumbled back home from the bar? You're wearing the shortest black slip dress he's ever seen in his life, and he's had to restrain himself all night from not dragging you into the club bathroom and having his way with you? He's fucking you into oblivion the second you step inside his apartment. Hands tangling into your hair as he pins you against the wall of the entry way, pulling you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. It's going to be fast, rough, deep. You'll both wake up with bruises and love bites and well-deserved hangovers. But - it's 1 pm on a rainy Tuesday and you guys just got back home from the bookstore? You're wearing an oversized cardigan with a comfy pair of shorts, and he's been quietly admiring you all day, watching you dig through countless bookshelves until you finally found the one you wanted? He's fucking you so thoroughly. Taking his time as he helps you out of your sweater, smiling at your body with each layer of clothing that get tossed to the floor. He's kissing the crook of your neck, telling you how beautiful you are. He's fucking you with slow, sensual, affection. You'll end up drifting off to the sound of the thunderstorm afterward, the two of you wrapped up under a blanket on the couch while the rain taps against the window next to you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Chuuya's a giver who loves a challenge so quickies are right up his alley, really. You'll stop by the apartment on your lunch break, warning him that you only have 15 minutes, but he’ll only roll his eyes in response before telling you to hop up on the counter. He locks in immediately, his concentration fully on you as he spreads you apart. Two fingers holding you open so that his tongue has complete access to your clit, the warmth of his mouth and the pressure of his strokes making your legs shake around his head already and he's just gotten started. He's precise. Calculated. Unrelenting. Even if he's only competing against the clock, he's still never lost.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as you're into it, so is Chuuya. He's very open when it comes to sex, especially when it comes to talking about it with you. You had a wet dream about him fucking you against the window in the sunroom so that the neighbors could see it? Lift that skirt up, angel, let's go give them a show. You read a book where the male lead lightly ran a blade across the main character’s throat while teasing her and you think you want to try it? His knife is already out of his pocket, his hand cradling your jawline. “Tell me how bad you want it, baby.” as he slices through the thin straps of your tank top, smirking at how hard your nipples are while it slips down to your waist. There a very few things he wouldn't be willing to at least try with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Chuuya can generally go a solid 2 rounds before he's completely spent, but if he's drunk, this number could be multiplied depending on his drink of choice that night. Chuuya's stamina is solid. He lasts awhile, but his entire objective while fucking is to make sure you're getting off. He's very in tune and aware of your body and tries to go with the flow of where you're at. If you can handle an hour or two, he'll gladly give it to you. He has no problem playing the long game, but if you're sleepy and only need twenty minutes to get there, he'll make sure he cums with you in that time. A truly adaptable king ˚₊‧ʚ♡ɞ‎‧₊˚

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There's an armoire in Chuuya's bedroom that houses all of the obscenely expensive vibrators you'd asked him to buy you, not realizing he actually would at the time. He likes to keep them hidden for the most part - out of sight, out of mind. He'll be in the middle of fucking you. Stretching you out while your nails dig into his back. He'll feel your walls start to spasm around him. He'll watch your eyes flutter back. He'll feel how tight and snug your cunt is squeezing him. He'll know you're right there and that's when he'll pull out your favorite wand. Always when you're least expecting it. When you're already so cock-drunk and lost that you don't think you could possibly take anything more, he'll run it along your clit. Your body practically convulsing at the overstimulation. "Chuuya - ohmygod... I... I - can't. I can’t, I can’t -" "Look at me. You can take it, baby. I know you can. Gimme one more, okay? Just like that. There you go. Fuuuck, baby. Just - like... that."

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The amount of sheer pleasure Chuuya derives from making you beg for him should be illegal. He’s constantly teasing you. Constantly trying to coax out desperate little cries from you. You're splayed out beneath him, legs spread beautifully, your cunt nearly dripping onto his sheets and he's still ghosting your lips with his. Wearing the most infuriating grin as he continues to rattle off depraved things like, "Baby, I wish I could, y'know? I really wanna give it to you, but I just don't believe that you want it." all while he's stroking himself just inches above you, making you watch the whole thing in agony but still not letting you touch him yet. "C'mon princess, show me how bad you want it. Let me see how you play with that pussy when I'm not here. Make me fuckin’ believe it.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Chuuya will groan and talk during sex, but he's not necessarily loud. He's way more concerned with the noises you're making anyway. As mentioned, his bedroom love language is taunting. "No? You can't take it anymore? Ohh, your pussy's just so sensitive, huh? That's so sad. My poor sweet girl." before slapping your clit and smirking at you as you whine beneath him. "Oh, look at that. Seems like you can take it after all.” He'll groan against you whenever he goes down on you, reveling in how fucking wet you are for him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Chuuya is secretly sentimental. He might not always admit it, but he doesn't just remember your anniversary - he remembers the outfit you were wearing the first time he met you and what the weather was like that day. He saves ticket stubs from your dates. Takes pictures of you when you're not looking just so he can keep the moment forever. He plans gifts for your birthday weeks in advance. Any time you list off a restaurant that you want to try or a vacation spot you want to visit one day, he secretly jots it down in his notes app. He listens to you, really listens to you when you talk and keeps every gift you give him, no matter how small or insignificant.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Chuuya is 5'3, (though he'll most definitely try to convince you that the measurements are off no matter how many times your scale reaches the the same conclusion). Slender. Nice arms and a slutty fucking waist. Hands, hands, hands. Usually covered by gloves but so fucking pretty and veiny when they're not. Speaking of veiny? Chuuya Nakahara is packing. Giiiiirth, babydoll, and a lot of it. Short men are ALWAYS stacked, you can't argue with science.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Chuuya's anger and sex drive mirror each other in the sense that they're both always on no matter what. Even when they're calmed down, even when they're not as noticeable - all it takes is one wrong (or right) move and he's right there, fully up and ready to go. You touch his leg under the table during dinner one night and he immediately finds an excuse to dismiss the two of you for a few minutes, dragging you to a secluded corner of the bar where he pins you against the wall. His leg wedged between yours, leaving urgent kisses along your collarbone as he creates friction against your clit. “This what you want? For me to fuck you right here?” You try to keep your resolve but it’s hard for him to take you seriously when your objections are all coming out in the form of moans. “My needy fuckin’ girl.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'll lay with you and talk about your day, but Chuuya is struggling to keep his eyes open after he cums. The minute you nestle into his shoulder, and he feels the warmth of your skin against his, he's fighting for his life to stay awake. Poor baby is just so tired, especially after dealing with Port Mafia all week. He feels safe in your arms. The thought of coming home to you is what gets him through most days anyway so once he's finally actually tangled up in you, he can't help but drift off into the comfort of your scent and the sound of your heartbeat.

⠀𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

‎♡‧₊˚ here’s dazai’s version ‎♡‧₊˚

[purplereina11]

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 1 It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything. Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred. It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

It had all started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected - Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts and plenty of fan curiosity before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything. You couldn’t only feel her touch one, you couldn’t only have her make your body react to her touch that way the once.

It wasn’t spelled out but you’d agreed to a no strings attached friends with benefits arrangement which is all you both had time for, meaningless hook ups, to satisfy an appetite she started. She’d invited you over to her apartment this evening to go over the ‘terms’, with the positions you both were in you needed to protect yourselves. That was a given. Go over some ground rules. You also weren’t planning on sleeping with her this evening, but you’d see how that would work out. You only got out your car in her parking garage and you could feel the spark ignite in your stomach.

You weren’t sure why you were nervous. It wasn’t as if you and Alexia hadn’t spent time together.

Because it was different.

You weren’t just making flirtatious conversation in front of an online audience. You weren’t exchanging pointed photos online under the watchful eyes of her fans and teammates. This was intentional. A choice. It was planned. The first time you’d be alone together, just the two of you, since everything had started.

And you had never been to her home before. It was intimate, you'd argue more intimate than your encounter on the balcony in a club.

You exhaled, trying to quiet the nerves rattling in your chest before finally lifting your hand and knocking.

The door swung open almost immediately, like she had been waiting right there. Alexia stood before you, casual in a hoodie and sweats, but somehow still effortlessly put together. Her hair was pulled back, a few loose strands framing her face, and there was something almost hesitant in her expression.

"Hey," she said, voice softer than usual.

"Hey." You shifted on your feet, gripping the strap of your bag like it was an anchor. "I hope I’m not too early."

She huffed a quiet laugh. "You could’ve shown up an hour ago, and it wouldn’t have been too early."

That admission sent a flicker of warmth through your chest, but before you could dwell on it, she stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You hesitated for just a second before crossing the threshold, taking in your surroundings. The apartment was unfamiliar, but there were pieces of her everywhere—framed photos, neatly stacked books, a pair of football boots tucked near the door. It felt like stepping into another part of her life, one you hadn’t been allowed into before.

"I, uh—made dinner. If you’re hungry," she offered, suddenly looking almost shy. "If not, we can just sit, talk—whatever you want."

You glanced toward the kitchen, where two plates were already set out on the island, candles flickering between them. Your stomach flipped. It was subtle, but the effort was there. She wanted this to go well. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and met her eyes. "Dinner sounds good."

Alexia nodded, as if trying to play it cool, but you caught the small exhale of relief she let out as she led the way.

As you sat down, the initial stiffness between you began to fade. The food was good—really good—and you told her so, earning a smug little smirk. "I do have some skills outside of football," she teased, taking a bite of her own meal.

You raised a playful eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Cooking and what else?"

She pretended to think, tapping a finger against her chin. "I’m a decent DJ in the car. Good at remembering random facts. And I can fold a fitted sheet."

That made you laugh. "Okay, the fitted sheet thing is impressive. That’s practically a superpower."

Alexia grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "I know. It’s why my sister always makes me do it."

Conversation flowed more easily after that. There were teasing remarks about her taste in music, "You have, like, two playlists, and one of them is just reggaeton.", and mock arguments over whether football or basketball was more enjoyable to watch. You caught her watching you a few times, a soft kind of amusement in her eyes, like she was relieved this wasn’t awkward or forced.

"You have something on your face," she said suddenly, reaching across towards you before you could react. Her thumb brushed the corner of your lips, slow and deliberate. The touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, her eyes flickering to yours as she pulled away.

You swallowed, your skin tingling where she had touched you. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

Alexia leaned back, smirking now, her gaze unwavering. "Anytime."

The tension shifted, thickening in the space between you. It was playful, charged, the kind that made your pulse quicken. You tilted your head, watching her as you dragged your fork across your plate. "You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you planned all of this just to kiss me."

Alexia didn’t even pretend to deny it. She lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug, taking a slow sip of her drink before responding. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

Your breath caught slightly, but you covered it with a smirk of your own. "Depends. Are you any good at it?” You narrowed your eyes slightly teasing her, “I can’t quite remember”

Alexia set her glass down, leaning in just enough to close the space between you a little more. "Why don’t you tell me?"

The heat in her voice sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, dinner felt secondary to the unspoken conversation happening between you. The lightness from before remained, but now there was something else an edge of anticipation, a challenge neither of you was willing to back down from.

Your gaze flickered to her lips before you could stop yourself. And then, before you could second-guess it, you leaned in, closing the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, but Alexia responded almost instantly, her lips pressing back against yours like she’d been waiting for it. Her hand found your cheek, fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and you felt the warmth of her body as she leaned in just a little closer.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing. Alexia’s eyes searched yours, her breath just a little uneven, a small, pleased smile 

tugging at her lips.

"Not bad," you murmured, teasing, trying to play it cool despite the way your pulse was hammering. You hadn’t kissed like that before.

Alexia let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I think you’re a terrible judge of kissing skills."

You grinned, tilting your head. "Guess I’ll have to try again. Just to be sure."

Her smile widened, her fingers still resting against your cheek. "Yeah," she murmured, voice lower now. "I think you should."

Later, after dinner was finished and the plates had been pushed aside, Alexia retrieved a deck of cards and a bottle of wine. You ended up sitting on the floor at her coffee table, legs folded beneath you as she dealt the first hand.

"You any good at this?" she asked, pouring each of you a glass.

You smirked, taking a sip before answering. "I guess we’ll find out."

What started as a friendly game quickly turned into a battle of wills. Alexia was competitive—of course she was—and so were you. The teasing escalated with every round, laughter mixing with accusations of cheating and exaggerated groans when one of you lost.

"You’re so smug," you complained after she won yet another hand, narrowing your eyes at her grin.

"I can’t help it if I’m naturally talented," she said, leaning back with a satisfied stretch. You huffed, shuffling the deck with determination. 

You shook your head, chuckling despite yourself. “Naturally talented, huh? What are you, a professional at everything?”

Alexia’s eyes glinted with mischief as she met your gaze. “Maybe I am. What, you think I’m just a pretty face?”

You smirked. “Well, you definitely have that covered.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer with that playful glint still in her eyes. “Is that all I’ve got going for me?”

The teasing banter felt easy, like it was picking up right where you’d left off, but there was an undeniable undercurrent now. Something more than just flirting. The way her gaze lingered on yours, the subtle brush of her fingers as she reached for the cards—it was all more than casual, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull between you. The tension, while fun, was impossible to ignore. Every move, every word seemed to carry some weight you hadn’t anticipated. And yet, you couldn’t seem to look away, couldn’t pull yourself out of the moment.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, dropping your cards onto the table, suddenly serious. “Maybe there’s more to you than I thought.”

Alexia didn’t reply right away. Instead, she studied you for a moment, as if weighing something. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, warm and a little shy. “Maybe there’s more to you than I thought too.”

The shift in the air between you both was subtle, but undeniable. What had started as a game, as friendly banter and teasing, now felt like the beginning of something more—something deeper, something that could easily change everything.

You stared at her for a moment, feeling that familiar pull again, the one that made your heart race just a little faster. It was a mix of excitement and uncertainty, but for once, you didn’t want to pull away.

“How about one more round?” you suggested, trying to bring the conversation back to a lighter place, even though your heart was no longer in the game.

Alexia smirked, her eyes soft with something unspoken. “Sure,” she said, gathering the cards again. “But this time, I’m not going easy on you.”

You laughed, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of nerves and anticipation that lingered between you. As the game continued, you both slipped into the easy rhythm of being around each other, but the weight of the unspoken things between you never quite faded.

As the evening continued, the conversation after your card game continued to flow easily, a mixture of playful teasing and comfortable silence. But as the last of the wine was poured and the cards were pushed aside, Alexia suddenly sat up, her expression shifting slightly. Pulled herself up from the floor and grabbed the remote.

“Alright,” she said, grinning at you, “I’m getting kind of bored now. What do you say we do something else?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Popcorn and basketball,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious suggestion in the world.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Popcorn and basketball? You’re not gonna pretend to know what you’re watching, are you?”

Alexia shot you a playful glare, standing straighter. “Hey, I came to your games, didn’t I? I know what’s going on.”

You grinned, raised an eyebrow whilst folding your arms as you leaned back against the couch. “Really? So, what exactly is going on when I’m running up and down the court, making shots, calling plays, and getting physical with the other team?”

She crossed her arms, a mock-defensive look crossing her face. “I know you’re good. That’s all I need to know.”

You grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Alright, but next time you come to one of my games, I’m gonna need you to understand why I’m doing all that, not just cheer because I make a shot.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay. I’ll work on it. But hey, I can still appreciate the athleticism, alright?”

You laughed. “Fair enough. But tell me, when I’m setting up for a fast break, do you know what I’m doing?”

Alexia looked at you for a second, clearly trying to figure it out, clearly trying to come up with a response that wouldn’t make her sound too clueless.  “I mean, you’re… running fast?”she guessed, her tone dripping with uncertainty.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, letting out a chuckle. “Well, yeah, that’s not wrong, I guess. But you’re kind of missing the whole point here, it’s all about timing, spacing, and catching the defence off guard.”

She tilted her head, clearly still trying to piece it all together. “So, you’re saying it’s not just you running around like a maniac?”

“Exactly,” you said, smirking. “There’s strategy behind all of it.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, teasing now. “Well, I’m glad to know it’s not just you going wild on the court. You’ve been playing for a while, right? I assumed there had to be some method to the madness.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “Hey, I’ll let you keep thinking that. But you’re definitely missing out on understanding the real strategy behind the game.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, alright, I get it. I don’t understand all the technical stuff. But I watch, okay? I cheer for you. That should count for something.”

You leaned forward a little, your voice teasing. “It counts for a lot, actually. But next time, don’t just cheer because everyone else does”

She threw a pillow at you, laughing as she did. “Hey! I’m trying!”

You caught the pillow, tossing it back at her. “I know, I know. You’ve got the spirit. You just need to work on the details.”

“Alright,” she said with a grin, “I’m putting on a basketball game, and you’re going to talk me through it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously asking me to explain basketball to you while you watch?”

Alexia smirked, sitting down on the sofa you were leaning back against and making herself comfortable. “Yeah, I want to know what’s going on. I’m watching, but I don’t get half of it. So now, you’re going to break it down for me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, but don’t blame me if you get overwhelmed.”

She crossed her arms, feigning seriousness. “I can handle it. Just… make it simple.” You rolled your eyes getting to your feet putting one leg under you as she sat on the sofa tilted slightly towards her.

You leaned forward, ready to explain, but before you could start, the game began on the screen. You turned your attention to the court, then back to Alexia, who was watching you intently.

“Okay, so right now, you’re going to see the offence trying to get an open shot,” you began, pointing to the players moving across the court. “Right now, they’re setting up their plays. That’s when you see players passing and cutting through the defence to get open. The goal is to get a clean shot at the basket.”

Alexia nodded slowly, though she still seemed a little confused. “Okay, so when they pass, it’s not random?”

“Nope, nothing in basketball is random,” you said, smirking. “They’ve been trained to work as a unit, which means every pass, every movement, has a purpose. Like this one right here.” You pointed to a quick pass to the player on the perimeter. “They’re trying to find a mismatch, someone who’s either faster or stronger than their defender.”

Alexia watched closely as the play unfolded. “Okay, I think I’m getting it.”

“Good. Now watch, see how they’re moving? They’re trying to set up the pick and roll.”

She frowned, clearly lost. “Pick and roll?”

You grinned. “Alright, so the player with the ball runs toward a teammate, who then sets a screen—a pick—on the defender. The idea is to block the defender so the player with the ball can get open. The roll part? That’s when the player setting the screen runs toward the basket, hoping to get the ball for an easy shot or pass.”

Alexia watched as the play went down, her eyes widening. “Oh, I get it! That’s smart.”

You nodded. “It’s all about creating an advantage. A small opening, and you take it.”

She leaned forward, still paying attention, but then asked, “So, what happens if they don’t get the shot they want?”

“Then they reset,” you explained. “They might pass it back out to the top of the key and start again, or they’ll try a different strategy, like isolating one player to take on their defender one-on-one.”

“Right,” she said, looking at you. “So, this isn’t like just a free-for-all. There’s a plan to everything.”

“Exactly,” you said, turning your focus back to the game. “It’s a chess match, honestly. Every move counts. And just when you think you’ve figured it out, the other team can throw something unexpected your way.”

Alexia watched the game intently, glancing over at you every so often for clarification. As the game moved into the final minutes of the first half, she raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. So, what’s the deal with the shot clock?”

You smiled at her effort to keep up. “The shot clock is set to 24 seconds. They have to get a shot off before that time runs out. If they don’t, the other team gets the ball.”

“Ah, so it’s like a timer to keep things moving,” she mused.

“Exactly,” you said, impressed. “Keeps the game fast-paced. No one can just sit back and take their time.”

As the game continued, you kept explaining the nuances, the different plays, the positioning, the strategy. The more you talked, the more she seemed to understand. By the time the second half rolled around, she was nodding along with each move, offering her own commentary and asking deeper questions about the flow of the game.

You glanced at her, surprised at how engaged she was. “I gotta admit, you’re actually paying attention.”

Alexia smirked. “Of course, I told you I’d understand it. I just needed you to explain it like I was a complete newbie.”

You laughed. “Well, it’s not every day I get to explain basketball like this. But I’m glad you’re getting it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not sure I understand all the stats and numbers,” she said, leaning back on the couch. “But I’m starting to see what you mean. It’s more than just running and shooting.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a strange satisfaction as you watched her. “It’s a lot of moving parts, a lot of thinking on your feet.”

“And I have to say,” she added, giving you a mischievous grin, “you’re not too bad at explaining it.”

You chuckled, feeling a little pride at her compliment. “Well, I am a professional.”

As the game continued, you and Alexia kept talking, but there was something different in the air now. It wasn’t the playful teasing or the edge of tension you’d felt earlier. Instead, Alexia seemed more… absentminded as she watched the game unfold. Her focus was on the screen, her questions coming faster now, almost without realising what she was doing.

You found yourself answering her questions, explaining the moves and strategies, but each time you spoke, she seemed to be leaning in just a little closer, her body subconsciously inching toward you as she tried to follow along. Her fingers, as if by accident, brushed against your arm every now and then, but she didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in the game.

“Wait, so why’d he pass it there?” Alexia asked, her eyes still glued to the screen as she absentmindedly rested her hand on your knee, not even looking at you as she spoke. “Isn’t that a weird move?”

You couldn’t help but notice how her fingers lingered for a second, her touch light but warm. You cleared your throat before answering. “No, it’s actually a pretty smart pass. He’s setting up for the next play. It’s all about timing.”

Alexia nodded, still focused on the game, and without even thinking, her hand slowly slid up to your thigh, her fingers barely grazing your skin. She was so absorbed in the game that she didn’t seem to realise just how close she was getting, or how her hand had moved. You could feel the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of your pants, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you just watched her, waiting for her to notice.

“Wait, that guy’s way too open, right?” she asked, frowning as the ball was passed to a completely unguarded player. Her fingers tightened on your leg for just a second, though she didn’t seem to be aware of it. “How does that happen? That’s gotta be a mistake.”

“Yeah, it’s a mistake. The defence is supposed to switch faster,” you explained, your voice a little distracted now, because her hand was still there, and it was starting to feel a little… different. “But honestly, it happens sometimes. People lose focus.”

Alexia hummed in response, still not looking at you, her attention fully on the game. But she didn’t move her hand, and it was hard to ignore the way her fingers idly traced small circles on your thigh, completely unaware of how much she was affecting you. It wasn’t a bold move. It wasn’t intentional. It was just Alexia, naturally leaning into the moment without even realising it.

You tried to focus on the game, but the way her touch seemed to grow more comfortable, more natural, made it harder to concentrate. Her fingers grazed the inside of your leg, brushing over you with each little gesture as she continued to ask questions. Her body was so close to yours now, her warmth seeping into your side, her breath almost mingling with yours as she leaned in.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Alexia said, her voice a little breathless now. “Why did he take that shot when there were still, like, 15 seconds on the clock?”

You turned your head slightly to answer, but when you looked at her, you found that her eyes were no longer on the screen. Instead, they were locked onto you, her gaze soft, but still focused. There was something different in the air now, something unspoken hanging between you both. You almost didn’t know what to do with it.

“Uh, well, it’s all about confidence,” you said, trying to ignore the way her hand had shifted just a little higher on your leg. “He took the shot because he thought he could make it. A lot of players go with their gut instinct, especially when the pressure’s on.”

Alexia blinked, her gaze still steady, but now she was fully aware of the way her fingers were resting on your thigh. She seemed to pause for a moment, her hand stilling just as her eyes flickered up to meet yours. She gave a little half-smile, almost sheepish, before pulling her hand back as if she’d just realised what she’d been doing.

“Sorry,” she murmured, a little embarrassed, but there was still that same playful spark in her eyes. “I guess I got a little too… comfortable there.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, trying to make light of the situation. “It’s okay. You’re just getting into the game.”

Alexia gave you a small smile, but the way her fingers were still tingling from the brief contact, you could tell she wasn’t entirely sure if she should pull away or lean in again. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, before she straightened up, returning her attention to the screen. “So, should I pay attention to the last few seconds?” she asked, her voice lighter now, as though trying to brush off the tension that had briefly hung between you both.

You grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Definitely. Trust me, things get crazy at the end.” You both fell back into the flow of things, with Alexia’s questions and casual touches becoming part of the rhythm, like they’d always been there.

As the game reached its final minutes, Alexia’s questions became more frequent, her eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and you. Her hand had found its way back to your knee, though now, it was more relaxed, as if she was simply resting there, but you could feel the warmth of her touch all the same. She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was pretending not to. Either way, you weren’t pulling away.

The game was getting intense, and you couldn’t help but get sucked into the action as well. You’d been answering her questions without thinking too much about it, but now, as the score tightened and the players on the screen fought for every second, you found yourself leaning forward a little, your focus sharpening.

Alexia, too, seemed to be more drawn into the game. She was sitting closer now, her shoulder lightly brushing against yours. Every now and then, her hand would give a small, absent-minded squeeze to your knee, but it wasn’t in a way that screamed intent. It felt natural, like she didn’t even realise she was doing it.

“Wait, what’s going on with him?” she asked suddenly, her voice almost breathless. She pointed to a player on the screen who was limping off the court. “Is he hurt?”

You nodded quickly, watching the game unfold. “Yeah, he’s got an ankle injury. It’s not too bad, but he’ll probably be out for the rest of the game.”

Alexia frowned, her brow furrowing as she watched the player leave the court, but then her hand, still resting lightly on your leg, shifted just a little. Her fingers traced a slow line down to your calf before pausing, as though she hadn’t even realized she’d moved. You swallowed, trying to keep your focus on the game, but it was hard with the weight of her hand on you, so close.

“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Alexia asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as the camera zoomed in on the injured player. “I mean, he looks fine to me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her questioning tone. “No, trust me, athletes don’t fake injuries like that in a game this close. He’s hurt.”

Alexia nodded, still watching intently. Then, her gaze flickered over to you again, her fingers slowly, almost absentmindedly, moving along your leg. She seemed completely unaware of the way her touch was starting to have an effect on you. It wasn’t intentional, but it was definitely happening.

As the final moments of the game ticked down, you were both on the edge of your seats, holding your breath as the last few plays unfolded. You could feel her body shift closer to yours, her knee now gently bumping against yours, and when the final whistle blew, signalling the end of the game, you both let out a collective exhale.

The score flashed on the screen—the Barcelona mens team had won.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, raising your fist in victory, only half-joking. “See? Told you it was gonna get crazy at the end.”

Alexia, her eyes still glued to the screen, gave a small, satisfied grin. “You were right,” she said, leaning back against the couch. But she didn’t pull away from you. Instead, she let her hand rest on the small of your back, as if the tension of the game had softened something between you two.

The room was quiet for a beat, both of you just letting the moment settle. Alexia didn’t seem in a hurry to pull her hand back this time. In fact, she was casually rubbing her thumb back and forth against the fabric of your shirt, her movements slow and unhurried. You didn’t pull away either. Instead, you felt a warmth spread through you from the spot where her fingers were grazing your back. Her movements became larger rubbing over your back as you watched the game analysis, at least tried to. You were struggling to focus.

You cleared your throat, trying to make the moment feel less charged, even though it was. “So, you’ve got a pretty good eye for the game, huh?”

Alexia’s eyes met yours, when you looked over your shoulder, her lips quirking up into a small, teasing smile. “I think I’ve learned from the best,” she said, her voice playful.

It was a subtle shift, but it was enough for you to notice. The playful vibe was still there, but there was a new kind of intimacy between you now—one that hadn’t been there before. Her hand didn’t leave your back, and neither did your gaze. Neither of you seemed willing to move.

“Guess I have to keep teaching you then,” you said, your voice softer now, a hint of something more behind your words.

“Guess so.”

Her touch was warm against your skin, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, sitting together on the couch, the last echoes of the game playing in the background. When you finally sat back her hand found your leg, it felt like a promise—small, unspoken, but enough to make your heart race.

Without thinking, you let your hand find hers, gently covering it. It wasn’t an aggressive move, just a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of her unspoken intent.

Alexia’s eyes flickered to your hand, and for a moment, she seemed surprised, but then she relaxed, letting her fingers curl under yours. Her touch was warm, comfortable, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt truly at ease.

“Next time,” Alexia whispered, her lips barely brushing against your ear, “I think I’ll understand the game a little better.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand softly. “I think you will.”

And in that moment, everything else seemed to melt away—there was no tension, no confusion, just the two of you, slowly figuring each other out in the most natural way possible.

Alexia’s eyes darkened just slightly, a knowing look flashing in her gaze before she reached for her glass again, her fingers brushing yours once more. But this time, she didn’t pull away immediately. She let the contact linger, just for a beat longer than necessary, before she took a sip of her drink.

You couldn’t help but watch her, your breath hitching slightly at how natural it seemed. The way she moved, the way she looked at you—it was different now. And you liked it.

She caught you staring, her lips curving upward. “You know,” she began softly, her voice lower now, almost like a challenge, “I’ve wondered what would have happened if we were somewhere more private than that balcony that night.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the implication clear, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. But that wasn’t going to stop her.

Alexia shifted closer, her hand back on your thigh, dangerously high. The warmth of her touch, the way she seemed to study you, made your stomach flip. You glanced at her, trying to stay composed, but it was hard when she was this close, her scent filling your senses, her presence almost overwhelming in the best way.

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “About… how much we held back, even when it felt like we shouldn’t.”

Her hand moved ever so slightly, just brushing the fabric above your panties, and you felt a flicker of something ignite deep inside you. Without thinking, your own hand reached out, settling gently on her arm. The contact was light at first, but it was enough to send a shiver through both of you.

“Yeah?” You found your voice again, though it was rougher than you expected. “And what do you think would have happened?”

Alexia’s eyes glinted with something a little darker, a little bolder than before. “I think maybe I would of gotten to taste you”

You didn’t have time to process her words before she was moving just a little closer, her lips hovering just out of reach. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you faded into the background. There was nothing but the electricity between you, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Your pulse was racing, your chest tight, and you could feel the heat of her body so close to yours.

Her lips were so near, but not quite touching, teasing you with the promise of something more. Every inch of you screamed to close the gap, to feel the press of her lips against yours, but something held you back. You were both hovering on the edge of something you couldn’t take back.

Alexia’s breath was warm against your skin, her hand inching ever closer, the anticipation almost unbearable. She watched you, waiting, testing the limits, daring you to make the first move.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening on her arm, needing something to hold on to. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of Alexia’s lips. “I know,” she whispered, her hand finally settling on your hip, her touch grounding, yet still sending jolts of heat through your body. “But I think I’ve always been one for danger.”

You could hear the challenge in her voice, feel the weight of her words in the space between you. It was a risk, but you knew you couldn’t walk away from it now.

Your hand slowly travelled up her arm finding its resting place on her jaw, your thumb brushed her lips and before you could think further, you closed the distance, your lips pressing softly against hers. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters, as you moved to lay on the sofa her hovering over you. But as the seconds passed, it deepened, and everything else seemed to fade away.

The warmth of her body against yours, the feeling of her hand on your skin, it was intoxicating. You could taste the sweetness of her kiss, the lingering edge of something both familiar and new. And in that moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered except the two of you, together.

The kiss broke for a brief second, her forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Here or bedroom?,” Alexia whispered, her voice thick with desire, you pulled her back down into a kiss.

“Neither” you smirked, “Not tonight”

Alexia grumbled making you laugh, “Seriously?”

You hummed into the next kiss, “This maybe Sex Putellas but I'm not that easy”

You felt Alexia smirk as her lips found your neck, "Stay" she whispered, "So I can kiss you at least"

Your breath caught, the words catching fire against your skin. Her voice was low—soft, but certain—the kind that didn’t ask, didn’t beg. It claimed.

You didn’t answer right away. Couldn't.

Because suddenly, time had narrowed down to the point of her mouth on your skin, the weight of her presence on you, and the impossible heat blooming where her hand now rested at your waist.

“Alexia...” you breathed, half a warning, half a prayer.

She smiled against your collarbone, the curve of it unmistakable. "Just a kiss,” she murmured, “... unless you ask for more.”

You brought your hands to her jaw raising her head, finally facing her. And the look in her eyes—steady, dangerous, beautiful—told you this wasn’t just going to be a kiss for long.

You really needed to have that conversation you wanted sooner rather than later . You weren't sure how long you could show this restraint for.

---

I know what you all want, you'll get it soon 😉