#I need this song on streaming like I need air

[gardens-light]

Heyy, I just wanted to say I really love your writing! Your stories are always so good, and I admire how creative you are. I was wondering if you’d ever think about doing something with Dino/Mirage x human spy? I’m obsessed with his design in the Bayverse movies

Hey there, and thank you so much for the lovely compliment! I know I say this alot, but it really does mean alot to hear that people enjoy reading my silly little fics.

I've honestly only know of Mirage in the ROTB movie, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I didn't love that mech's attitude. Anyways, hope you enjoy this piece that was inspired by your prompt, and I do have a few ideas floating around in my drafts for future works of Mirage.

Apologies again for the long wait.

---

High Stakes and High Tension

Content: Autobot Mirage x GN/Human Spy Reader.

Inspired Song: A View To A Kill- Duran Duran

Word Count: 1900

Sunlight streamed through the broken windows of an abandoned hangar on the outskirts of a forgotten airstrip. Inside, the air was thick with dust, along with the scent of oil and rust lingered like ghosts of a time long gone. Optimus stood tall within the center, his frame gleaming faintly in the dim light. His blue optics studying the black SUV's approaching in the distance.

"Prime, I don't see why I need a partner." Mirage complained from the sidelines, casually leaning against a support beam. Occasionally feeling Optimus' side glance, raising an optic ridge at the sleek silver-and-blue Porsche's smooth, almost teasing tone. "I'm perfectly capable of handling a little infiltration on my own. It's my speciality afterall-"

"I do not question you nor your abilities, Mirage. But, this mission requires cooperation from the humans governmental intelligence. I believe their chosen agent has been briefed-"

The sound of your steel-cap boots clicking against the concrete interrupted the air, drawing the attention of the Autobots and fellow soldiers. Mirage's optics slowly wandered over your frame, taking in how the tailored black tactical suit outlined your confident figure. A headset tucked neatly behind your ear, keeping your hair out of your face. As your piercing eyes scanned the room with the precision of someone who left nothing to chance.

"Mirage, this is Agent Y/N. Aka, Agent Cobra." Optimus introduced, acknowledging you with a simple nod and curt smile. "They're one of the U.S government's top spies. They'll be assisting you on this mission."

"So, you're the 'advanced asset' I'm working with?" you clipped with a professional mannerism. Striding towards the silver-and-blue Autobot, with a tilted head and placing hands upon your hips.

"That's me. The only mech who looks good." Mirage pushed himself off the beam, gesturing towards himself with a dramatic flourish, before holding out a relaxed fist. "Nice meeting you, babe. The name's Mirage."

Your brows furrowed slightly, "save the charm. I'm here to get the job done, not to exchange pleasantries."

"Oh you're feisty. I like that." A small smile teased the corners of the blue Autobot's lips. "I like it alot."

"What's the mission?" rolling your eyes, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Optimus projected a hologram from his forearm, displaying a video of a group of individuals from high society, exchanging crates of weaponry with a towering Deception in the background. "For months these humans have been collaborating with the Decepticons. I believe they're providing our enemy with resources for their war effort. Your task is to infiltrate their operation, confirm the extent of their alliance, and eliminate the threat."

"Understood. Let's move out." You spoke with a curt nod.

With a dramatic spin and styled flair, the sound of whirling gears and shifting pistons filled the air, as Mirage transformed into his alt-mode. The Porsche engine growling with a prideful rumble, as he felt your gaze rake over his sleek, silver with cobalt-blue racing stripes. Swinging his passenger door open with a gentleman like gesture towards you.

---

Infiltrating a posh gala where the rich and elite of high society mingled, including the suspected allies of the Decepticons were said to be meeting. Mirage's altmode blended in flawlessly with the other high-end sports cars, which parked outside of the modern mansion. His sensors feeding you information through your comms.

You moved through the crowd with calculated movement, your elegant black attire matching the formal style of the grand ballroom.

"Target spotted." You whispered into the earpiece.

"Which one? 'Mr Tacky Red Tie' talking to the broad dressed in purple?" Mirage teased.

"No." You lowly hissed, scanning the room. "Black suit and tie by the bar... and keep your chatter to a minimum."

The Autobot's laughter crackled softly through your earpiece. "You're at a fancy party, babe. Loosen up."

Rolling your eyes, ignoring his teasing tone while sliding into a seat near your target. The middle-age man didn't notice your presence until you casually ordered a drink, only giving you a slight flirtatious gaze before returning to his own drink.

"Uh, Cobra?" Mirage's serious tone buzzed through your earpiece, snapping you out of a daze that held your attention for the past uneventful moments. "We've got company. Big, stompy, and ugly."

Your eyes flickered towards the mirror behind the bar, catching a glimpse of two brutish mechs that past the far window behind you. One with jagged red plating, while the other had rust covering his gun-metal frame. Their massive frames concealed by Cybertronian cloaking tech, making them nearly invisible to the human eye.

"I see them." Your muttered words remained in your calm tone, while you casually and discreetly followed your target towards the nearest exit.

"Time to bail?" Mirage suggested.

"Not yet. We need confirmation they're handing over Cybertronian tech first-"

"You're gonna get yourself squished!"

But you continued, ignoring Mirage's warning.

Moving towards another spot closer to your location, Mirage's altmode tucked away under an empty driveway, his sensors watching you creep into the garage that was clearly restricted access from the rest of the party.

The dimly lit garage hummed faintly with the energy radiating from the Cybertronian tech scattered around. Kneeling by a crate, your small camera clicked quietly, as you documented the evidence of human-Decepticon collaboration. Each photo capturing damning details: encrypted datapads, energon cubes, and schematics that only a Cybertronian would recognize.

"Cobra," Mirage's voice crackled softly through your comm, his usual playful tone replaced with urgency. "You've got company-two guards heading your way. Twelve meters out and closing fast-"

"Give me thirty more seconds," your words came out in a hushed whisper. Your tone focused, aiming your camera at another crate, snapping pictures as fast you could. "I need to finish this-"

"You don't have thirty seconds, babe. They're gonna be right on top you in about ten. I suggest you-"

"I said almost done-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, barely having time to react before someone grabbed your wrist. Only a small gasp escaped you, as Mirage's human-like holographic form materialized out of nowhere. Pinning your back against the side of his altmode, the space between the wall of the undercover driveway and the Porsche forced the pair of you to be incredibly close.

Opening your mouth, but Mirage raised a finger to your lips. Silencing any protest that dared to murmur from you.

From your perspective, his hologram form looked incredibly lifelike- appearing as tall, well-dressed man who favoured the 90s street fashion. White hair loosely slicked back, while a roguish smirk framed his youthful features. But even through your annoyance, you couldn't help but notice the flicker of faint blue lines that occasionally danced across his 'skin,' a subtle reminder of his true nature.

"Two guards," Mirage whispered, leaning in close enough that you could feel the faint projection of his breath. "They're about to round the corner. Just... follow my lead, and don't overthink this."

Tilting his head and leaning in even closer, lightly pressing his forehead against yours. To an outsider, the position was rather... intimate, almost tender. You stiffened in surprise, your body instinctively tensing as warmth rose to your cheeks.

"What are you doing?" you hissed under your breath, voice barely audible.

"Improvising."

Your eyes widened as his lips softly pressed against yours- not cold, not mechanical but strangely warm and tender. Like the tactile perfection of a hologram designed to flawlessly mimic human touch. You couldn't help but freeze, mind racing as you tried to not lose yourself within the moment.

As the guards rounded the corner, their flashlights swept across the gravel driveway, illuminating the outdoor space. The beams of light stopped abruptly as they landed on upon the pair of you. Feeling the guard's gaze, but Mirage didn't flinch. If anything, he leaned in deeper, one hand cupping to your cheek, as if to sell the act even more.

"Hey!" one guard barked, stepping closer.

From the corner of your eye, seeing Mirage's expression softening, the smirk upon his lips turning into something earnest and... you dare say, endearing.

"Apologies." His smooth, confident charm returned to his tone. Resting his forehead against yours. "We... didn't think anyone else was here. Just... stealing a moment, excuse us."

A scowl flashed across the guard's face, lowering his flashlight slightly. "This is a restricted area. You two shouldn't be here-"

"No problem. We understand." Mirage tilted his head slightly, softly kissing your temple, putting on a sheepish smile. "We just... couldn't resist a little adventure." He glanced down at you, reluctantly playing along, keeping your head turned away from the guards. As if you were embarrassed to be caught.

The second guard lightly chuckled, elbowing his companion. "Leave' em alone, man. Nothing but a couple of lovebirds sneaking off for some... privacy. Let's keep moving."

Hesitating for a moment, the guard's suspicion lingered on the pair of you for a moment longer. Eventually grumbled and turning away, "fine... just don't let the boss catch you"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Mirage called after them, giving you a subtle wink.

Once the guards disappeared back around the corner, their footsteps fading into the distance. Once you were sure they were out of ear shot, you shoved Mirage away, a mixture of irritation and embarrassment across your features.

"What the fuck was that?!"

"Me saving your stubborn, uncooperative ass from getting caught."

"You didn't have to-"

"Didn't I?" Mirage casually interrupted, crossing his arms. "Face it, Agent Cobra, you were this close to blowing the mission. Admit it- I'm good at what I do."

You couldn't help but glare at him, lips pressed into a thin line. "Next time, warn me before you... improvise like that!"

"Sure thing. But admit it, babe- you liked it, didn't you?"

"And stop calling me that!"

Turning your back and not answering, Mirage's holographic form fazed out into nothing as you approached his passenger side. Trying to ignore the lingering warmth upon your lips. But the faint smirk tugging upon your lips, didn't escape the Autobot's attention.

---

Standing under the moonlit sky, adjusting your earpiece after sending the details of mission to your unit and Optimus, of how you and Mirage successfully dismantled the human-Decepticon operation. Confirming that appropriate authorities confiscated, and the conspirators were neutralized.

Your eyes flickering towards Mirage as he rolled out of his altmode, his blue optics looking down at you with soft amusement and curiosity.

"Y'know... for someone who acts like they're all business, you sure know how to have fun. When you decide to let loose."

A small smirk crept upon your lips, melting away your usual sternness, giving way to a rare moment of playfulness. You stepped closer, looking up at him with a glint within your eyes.

"And... for someone who can't take anything seriously and talks too much. You... can be rather charming, just lucky that you're easy on the eyes."

Mirage titled his helm, his optics brightening at your teasing tone. "Did you... just flirt with me, Agent Cobra?"

"Maybe." You spoke with a sly smile. "But don't let it go to your head."

"Wouldn't think of it... Don't be a stranger, babe."

You paused before approaching the black SUV's, glancing back with faint blush dusting your cheeks. "See around, Mirage."

As you climbed into the vehicle and disappeared into the darkness, the blue Autobot chuckled to himself. Feeling his spark hum within in its chamber, making his frame radiant with an unfamiliar warmth.

[miasmaghoul]

So I got one particular kink request that mentions maybe needing an OC. I have an idea for this already, but it occurred to me that I've never told you guys about my actual OC. I'm sure most won't care, but I do, soooo...

Everyone, meet my ghouly guy Jasper!

Jasper is an earth ghoul, but more in a rock direction than a plant direction. He was summoned near the end of Terzo's reign, and lives in the depths of the abbey with the other service ghouls. His assigned tasks mostly revolve around building maintenence, and he usually goes unseen due to a preference for working at night. He's not a fan of crowds anyway, so it all works out. The last thing he needs is a gaggle of siblings ogling him while he repairs cracks in the walls with nothing but a palmful of finely crushed stone and a little burst of magic.

He keeps to himself in the off hours too, preferring to hang in his dorm with something immersive; a good book (preferably horror or mystery), a video game (loves single player RPGs and cozy games like Stardew Valley), doing a puzzle (jigsaw, crossword, or really any sort of word game) or listening to music while staring at the ceiling. His dorm sits beneath one of the band's equipment storage rooms, and it's not uncommon for one or two of the band ghouls to hang out and play something every now and then. He has very sharp ears, and if he closes his eyes he can usually tell who's fucking around (or just fucking, let's be real) in there.

If he does need to participate in group activities, he enjoys the company of his fellow earth ghouls. They aren't a rowdy bunch (except for Pebble, though they still get on well enough), so he'll have no problem meeting Mountain in the orchard for a joint and idle chitchat, or having a quiet lunch with Ivy in the rose garden. He also finds himself drawn to air ghouls - he had a huge crush on Zephyr, but their Whole Thing with Mountain told Jasper to keep his distance. They still made great friends though!

His first roommate was Aether, before he was recruited into the band and moved to Dew's room. They got along very well, and Aether taught him a lot about many, many things. The abbey, the world Above, human-shaped vessels and what they can do...many lessons were taught in that cramped dorm room. Jasper has it to himself now, but still he leaves Aether's side clean and organized. Just in case.

Aether tried to teach him to play guitar as well, but never got the hang of it - coordination was an issue, as was the fact that his finger strength kept breaking the higher strings. He prefers to sing anyway, in a voice that could go straight to your bones. The one exception to his 'no crowds' rule comes when it's time for a celebratory mass, where he will don a ceremonial robes and join the choir in worshipful song. Mostly he just sings in the shower though.

He has an extremely dry sense of humor, always heavy handed with sarcasm, but is also able to pull a pun out at the drop of a hat. Loves to banter and tease in his own way, though it can take other ghouls some time to adjust to his mannerisms. But if something hits him just right, really tickles, then he's cackling like a hyena with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Loves to hunt with Mountain; the pair of them have spent many night tracking everything from rabbits to bucks with nothing but claws and fangs, tearing into their prizes with unabashed, feral pleasure. Jasper will take pieces of their pelts and fashion them into little pouches or decorative pieces to store on his one crowded bookshelf. There are a few hand-carved pieces of antler there too, none of anything identifiable, but at least he'd tried!

He eats normal human food too, as most ghouls do, but he has a guilty pleasure - red clay, harvested from the banks of the stream that cuts through the forest. If anyone finds him gathering it he says he's trying his hand at pottery, but in reality he's squirreling it away to dry so he can have a nice crunchy snack afterwards. Aether walked in on him with his mouth covered in clay dust once, and he has yet to live it down.

Now, some rapid-fire physical traits and preferences!

Jasper is intersex, presents on the masc side of androgynous, and uses he/him pronouns (though they/them is okay too). Demiromantic pansexual, far more willing to share his body than his emotions. Kinky as all hell, but he is a ghoul after all.

He is 6'2" (188cm), narrow and lanky.

He's pale, doesn't particularly enjoy being out in the sun, (Mountain call him a cave dweller), but if he does spend a day tilling in the gardens or the orchard it'll bring out the freckles on his face and arms.

Keeps his hair very short, almost shaved, on the sides and back, but shaggier on top. Easy to let flop over his forehead, or to slick back if he needs to look "presentable". It's thick and copper colored, looks redder in the sun, and he's always running his hands through it. If he shaves the sides down, he likes to carve little designs into the remaining fuzz. His horns are stone-like, only a few inches long, starting at his hairline and angled backwards. (When he's unglamoured they become twin rows of stalagmites in all sizes, sharp as anything.)

His face is angular, with sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin. His ears stick out, the left one more than the right. His eyes are steely gray, a touch sunken and perpetually accompanied by dark circles. Has a thin scar that runs down his forehead and through his left eyebrow, from the time he tripped and fell through one of the glass panels of the greenhouse. His nose used to be narrow and straight, but after an evening spent drinking Terra's moonshine his bedroom floor changed that. (He's a clumsy guy, what can I say.) He doesn't mind the crookedness, though he does sometimes wince when he sneezes. Wears glasses for everything except to read.

Piercings: double lobes in both ears, with a helix on the left and a daith on the right. Used to have his septum done before the nose incident, chose not to re-do it after that healed. Nipples (prefers barbells or shields). Bellybutton (blame Aether).

Tattoos: his elemental symbol on the inside of his left wrist. An intricate sigil at the top of his spine, extending down between his shoulder blades. A black and gray snake that wraps around his right calf, it's head on the top of his foot.

Wears a simple silver ring on his right middle finger and a pair of complementary chains around his neck. One holds a cage-style pendant surrounding a piece of raw obsidian, the other small crystalline vial of something that DEFINITELY isn't blood. Enjoys painting his nails, and will keep his claws glamoured just to flash his color of the week. It'll be chipped after two hours, but he doesn't mind.

For clothing, he keeps it simple. Service ghouls all share a uniform - a black tunic, slacks, white-tipped Oxfords and a simple black mask - but in his off time he likes baggy t-shirts and comfy pants. Or no pants, he kinda hates pants. Keeps a few nicer pieces for the rare occasion his uniform isn't formal enough, but they mostly sit unused in the back of his closet.

Finally, he is terrified of spiders. Many spider-related pranks have been, and will continue to be, pulled on him.

Aaaand thats all I've got off the top of my head lmao. I've never written down anything about my weird rock boy, he just lives in my mind and now, maybe, in yours. Will he ever be fully fleshed out? Will he make an appearance in any future fic? Find out next time, on DragonBall Z!

[crunchie-morris]

All you country boys saying you know how to treat a woman right…

Well, only a woman knows how to treat a woman right!!!

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE!!!!!!!!

[4giorno]

yeah no wtf. valk rlly came to save music AGAIN

[mrsfancyferrari]

Can you do an imagine about the reader going out with an F1 driver (I imagine Charles or Carlos), where the reader speaks their language, but doesn’t tell them. One day they walk in on the reader talking to someone on the phone in French/ Italian or Spanish respectively, and have a talk about it. Reader was hiding their abilities due to an insecurity about their ability. Alternatively they could be at a restaurant, where the reader is forced to use that language to order something.

Speak Baby

Summary: you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Song: Heaven and Back · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft glow of the lamp painted the room in hues of amber and gold, the late afternoon sun already having dipped below the horizon.

You were curled up on the plush armchair, a worn copy of “Les Misérables” resting open in your lap, though your attention was entirely focused on the phone pressed to your ear. The French words flowed effortlessly, a melodic stream of conversation with your cousin, Élise, back in Paris.

Laughter bubbled in your chest as Élise recounted a particularly disastrous attempt to bake macarons, the familiar cadence of your mother tongue a soothing balm to your soul.

"…and then, the oven, mon Dieu, it was like a volcanic eruption of powdered sugar!" Élise’s voice, tinged with dramatic exasperation, crackled through the speaker.

You chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound, “You know you should just stick to painting, ma chérie. Baking is not for you.”

"Oh, very funny," she retorted good-naturedly, “But you should have seen it! The cat even had a dusting. Anyway, how is le charmant Charles?"

You paused, a smile playing on your lips. "He's…fine," you said, a soft giggle escaping your throat. "He's been working late again, as usual."

“And still no clue about your… little secret?" Élise teased, the question a whisper of anticipation.

"No," you replied, your voice dropping slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Absolutely not. It's…it's better this way, Élise. I’m not ready."

You knew that you were holding out on Charles, but the thought of him judging you for your French was an insecurity that had been haunting you for years.

You had always felt like you were not good enough, that your accent was too strong and that your grasp on the language was not as good as it should be, even though you grew up with it.

You always felt the need to hide, to not draw attention to yourself, and so this was how it was with Charles.

It was easier to communicate in English with him, to be safe, even if your heart yearned to speak in the language that made you, you.

"You're being silly, ma belle. He'd be enchanted, I'm sure of it," Élise said, her tone gentle, trying to reassure you.

Just as you were about to respond, a distinct sound reached your ears - the click of the front door. Your heart leaped into your throat. Charles was home.

Panic seized you, and you quickly pressed the “end call” button, the dial tone a sharp, jarring contrast to the lilting French you had been immersed in moments before. You closed the “Les Miserables” book with an audible thud, feigning a casual air.

You straightened yourself in the armchair and tried to look as though you were simply relaxing, a wave of frustration beginning to wash over you for not being able to share this part of yourself with Charles, but also relief because you almost got caught.

"Hey," Charles said, his voice laced with that endearing weariness you had come to adore, as he walked into the room, tossing his keys onto the side table.

He hadn't noticed the phone in your hands and he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it up on the hanger behind the door. He looked exhausted. "Long day."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little too high-pitched, betraying the sudden jolt of adrenaline still coursing through you.

You tried to act as nonchalant as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping up your neck, or the way your fingers were still tensed against the phone.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually so bright, clouded with fatigue. "Everything alright? You seem…tense." He took a seat on the sofa opposite you, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

You had been with Charles for a year now, and he was always able to suss something out.

You forced a smile, "Just had a long chapter to read, that's all.” You showed him the book, hoping it would be enough distraction. “It’s quite intense, actually." You pointed to the book, gesturing with your hand. "This guy Valjean, he's been through it."

He seemed to accept your explanation, dropping back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "Well, whatever it is, you should relax. Maybe we could order some food? I'm starving."

You nodded, relieved. The moment had passed, but the unspoken secret hung heavy in the air between you. The rest of the evening unfolded in its usual way, a comfortable rhythm you both had established.

You talked about your day, laughed at a silly movie, and shared a meal under the soft lamplight. Yet, beneath the surface of normalcy, the secret you harboured continued to prick at you.

He kept stealing glances at you, making you wonder if he might suspect something, but he never said anything.

“So you’re telling me he still hasn’t found out yet?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“No, and I’ll keep it that way,” you replied, your smile fading. “It’s too risky, Élise. What if he thinks I’m a fraud? What if he thinks I’ve been lying?”

“Oh, come on,” Élise scoffed, “He’s clearly smitten with you, mon amie. I can hear it in your voice!”

You sighed, staring out the window at the grey sky. “You don’t know him, Élise. His native language is French, he knows it like the back of his hand. He’d notice if my French isn’t perfect.”

“And what if it is?” Élise countered.

You were about to reply, when you heard his voice from the kitchen. You jerked, your heart leaping into your throat. “I have to go, Élise. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bisous,” Élise said, and the line went dead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The roar of the Ferrari engines was a constant hum, a background score to the chaotic elegance of the Formula One paddock. You watched Charles, a whirlwind of charm and practiced ease, navigate the PR games with Carlos Sainz.

They were a study in contrasts – Charles, all focused energy and effortless smiles, and Carlos, a more grounded, almost playful foil. You knew this dance well, the mandatory media obligations that came with the territory of being a Ferrari driver.

You were happy to be a spectator today. You knew, with a familiar twist of warmth in your chest, that Charles would find you later.

You had a few hours of freedom, a rare commodity in this world of tight schedules and constant movement. You decided to explore. The paddock was a labyrinth of team trucks, hospitality suites, and workshops, a microcosm of the competitive energy that fueled the sport.

You wandered, absorbing the sights and sounds, the clatter of tools, the clipped conversations in a dozen different languages. You’d always been drawn to the undercurrents of these places, the human stories unfolding beneath the glossy veneer of glamour and speed.

That's when you heard it – a voice, high-pitched with panic, cutting through the general noise.

"Est-ce que quelqu'un parle français?" it called out, the words sharp and rushed. " S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un ?" Does anyone speak French? Please, someone?

The man, standing near a catering area, was clearly distressed. He was middle-aged, his face flushed, hands trembling slightly as he gestured erratically. A small crowd of staff had gathered around him, their faces a mixture of concern and helplessness.

They spoke encouragingly in English, but it was clear that they didn’t understand a word he was saying, which was why he was getting more frantic.

You hesitated. You knew French, fluently after all. It really was an insecurity you'd carried since childhood, a fear that your accent wasn't good enough, that you wouldn't be considered “truly” French.

Charles, in his easy, casual fluency, only amplified that feeling. It was easier to let him be the French one, to navigate that world without your input.

But looking at the man, his distress growing with each passing second, your resolve crumbled. You couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the people, your voice hesitant but clear, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Je parle français. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Excuse me, sir. I speak French. What's going on?

The man's eyes widened, his face flooded with relief. "Ah, merci mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to clasp yours. "C'est terrible! J'ai perdu mon sac, avec tous mes documents et mes clés. Je dois partir cet après-midi, et je suis complètement coincé."

His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of worries and anxieties. This is terrible! I lost my bag, with all my documents and my keys. I have to leave this afternoon, and I'm completely stuck

You listened patiently, your own French flowing effortlessly as you reassured him. You asked him for details about the bag, about where he’d last seen it.

You found out that he was here for a family visit, and he had to catch a train in the next couple of hours. With a mixture of calm questioning and reassuring words, you helped him retrace his steps.

You spoke softly, your voice a calming balm to his panic. The staff around you, previously frustrated, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

You felt a small spark of pride, a quiet satisfaction in using the skill that you have always kept hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted it – a small black bag tucked behind a stack of boxes in a corner. The man let out a cry of delight, his face cracking into a wide, genuine smile. "Merci, merci mille fois!" he cried, taking the bag and beaming at you. "Vous êtes un ange!" Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You are an angel!

You helped him check through the contents, making sure nothing was missing. You even offered him some water and a seat to calm him. He thanked you profusely again and again. He finally started to relax and calm down.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you." he said again, this time speaking English clearly, even though he had not, before. He smiled warmly at you.

"It's no problem," you replied, smiling back. A small voice interrupted.

"Hey babe, what's going on here? I saw this crowd?" Charles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

"This gentleman lost his bag, and couldn't communicate with anyone here. I was just helping him," you explained.

"Ah, but you were speaking French? I didn't know that you spoke French. Good job ma chérie," Charles said a little surprised.

"Oh, I... I learned some in school," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You felt a flush creep onto your cheeks.

You could feel the lie hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

Charles tilted his head, his eyes searching your face, "That’s really cool." He turned his attention to the man, addressing him in perfect French.

You watched Charles smoothly reassure the man that everything was fine and offer him any help that he needed. The man seemed mesmerized by Charles, thanking him profusely.

You watched them briefly, the ease with which Charles switched between two languages, how comfortable he was in the role of translator. It was a stark contrast to your feelings of self-consciousness.

“So, should we get going?” Charles said to you, turning to you, his hand finding yours.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You’d helped someone out, and it felt good. But the lie, that little secret you still held, bothered you. More so than usual now that he knew.

As Charles led you away, you could feel his gaze on you, a silent question in his eyes. You knew you couldn't keep this hidden much longer.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the Ferrari base. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, hummed with a quiet energy. You lay nestled in the hammock chair, Charles’s strong back providing a solid anchor as you sat comfortably on his lap.

The gentle rocking motion lulled you both, a peaceful rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the quiet whispers of the wind. You’d been dating Charles for a year now, and these quiet moments were your favorite.

Being alone, intertwined, was bliss.

He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. You closed your eyes, your own breathing slowing, the world fading away.

You’d almost drifted off, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurring, when a voice sliced through the tranquil silence.

“Monsieur Leclerc, le débriefing commence bientôt!” a young voice called out, the French words sharp and clear. Mr. Leclerc, the debriefing begins soon!

You blinked your eyes open, startled, and looked around for the source of the sound.

A young woman, her face etched with a mixture of frustration and relief, stood a short distance away. She was clearly a member of the Ferrari staff, her uniform a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere you and Charles had created.

“Mademoiselle, je vais bientôt réveiller Charles, alors ne vous inquiétez pas,” you said, the words flowing easily, a comfortingly familiar cadence in your mind. Miss, I'll wake Charles up soon, so don't worry.

You watched her face register surprise, then a wave of relief.

“Merci beaucoup mademoiselle Y/N, je vous laisse faire,” she replied, her voice softening. Thank you very much Miss Y/N, I'll leave you to it.

“De rien, je suis désolé de t'avoir fait le chercher,” you said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. You felt a pang of guilt for making her search for Charles. You're welcome, I'm sorry I made you look for it.

She gave you a small, thankful nod before turning and heading back towards the base.

You were about to nudge Charles awake when you felt a movement in your lap. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, were already fixed on you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That didn't sound like 'school French' ma chérie," he muttered, a playful yet probing tone to his voice. Your heart lurched, and a cold dread settled in your stomach.

You could feel your cheeks flush, the blood rushing to your head. This was it. Your little secret, the one you'd guarded for so long, was about to unravel.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice coming out a little higher and breathier than you intended. You tried to play it off, hoping your denial would be convincing enough. "I learned some French phrases, that's all."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Some phrases? You just held an entire conversation with Nathalie, in perfect, effortless French. Where did you learn that?"

You fidgeted, your fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Uh...well...you know, it's just...I've always been a good language learner." The explanation sounded weak even to your own ears.

Charles gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes meet. His touch was soft, but his gaze was intense. “Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now. “You’re fluent. Why have you been hiding this from me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your unspoken secret. And you knew you couldn’t lie to him any longer. “It’s stupid, really,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was always just…insecure about it. My native language is English, and I'm fairly average. When I started learning French, which was young, it just came naturally to me. I didn't think I was actually... good. I thought if I spoke it around you, you'd think I sound awful, like those tourists that always try and speak French to you.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

He took your hands in his, his thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Ma chérie, that’s ridiculous. I’m fascinated by languages. I spent so much time learning other languages for the sport, plus how could I ever think you sound awful. You could never sound bad.”

His words were soothing, a balm to your wounded pride. You looked up, your eyes searching his face. “Really?” you whispered, still a little unsure.

He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “Bien sûr, Y/N. You’re amazing, in every language. And I am so incredibly curious. When did you learn it? How good are you even?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes now, and the tension that had been plaguing you started to dissipate.

“Since I was a kid. My grandmother was half-French and she taught me, always using French. She wanted me to have another language to use. She wanted me to have something special, so I never told anyone in school or anything.” you admitted.

“And you kept this hidden from me? For all this time?” Charles asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded sheepishly. “I thought you would think I was trying to show off, I guess, and I was honestly just scared I’d be awful.”

He squeezed your hands, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. “You are far from awful, Y/N, and I promise I never would have thought that, ever. But,” he added, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “I do have a few questions. And you're going to have to answer them… in French.”

“bébé, il faut que tu fasses le point avec l'équipe!” you said, the words slipping out naturally in French. Baby, you need to check in on the team!

Charles only grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me, ma chérie,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate and full of love.

“I know I’m so sorry.” you said, putting your head in your hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, mon amour,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It’s incredibly endearing, and it's one more thing I love about you. You have to tell me everything though from now on okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

He smiled, then his eyes glinted with a new mischievousness. “So, you’ve been keeping secrets from me, have you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only this one, I swear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning in closer. “I think that deserves a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, raising an eyebrow, excitement coursing through you.

His lips found yours and he deepened the kiss, pushing you gently back on the hammock. The language barrier was forgotten as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt.

You could feel the passion in him, the soft moaning as he kissed your neck. You could feel yourself falling further and further into him, completely and utterly in love.

It was a long time before you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

“What was I saying about meetings?” you breathlessly said, putting a hand on your chest, hoping your heart would slow down.

Charles chuckled, running his hand through his slightly dishevelled hair. “They can wait,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours, “There’s something much more urgent that we need to deal with, my petite française.”

You laughed then, and pulled him in for another kiss, knowing that your hidden language was now just another way to connect with the man you loved.

The rain outside continued to fall, a soft and gentle melody to the start of another chapter in your love story.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that this new language you had shared with each other would only bring you closer, in ways you could never have imagined. . . .

[bringbackmaes14]

My favorite moments from the Epic: The Musical Ithaca Saga Premiere Livestream (in no particular order):

Armando and Jay doing the macarena during Luck Runs Out

Also during Luck Runs Out when Odysseus says "let me pull you aside then I need to talk to you in private" and Jay pulled Armando to the side of the room in a very silly flirty manner and then immediately pretended to smack the shit out of him

Talya and Jay swapping lip sync roles during There Are Other Ways

Troy standing on the table and twerking during Dangerous

Everyone pretending to row during Full Speed Ahead

Luke acting like the cyclops during the cyclops saga, and reprising the role during Circe and Odysseus' fight in Done For

Mason and Jay ballroom dancing during No Longer You

Jay and his mom swaying together during Anticlea's part of The Underworld

Jay's dad messing up lip syncing Hephaestus' part of God Games and laughing about it

During Legendary, Mico is clearly on screen lip syncing as Telemachus but Jay keeps typing in chat "Where's Mico?" And "Mico it sucks we couldn't get you here"

Jay trying to hold Mico in his lap during Just A Man

Steven Rodriguez' cast message between the showing of the Vengeance Saga and the Ithaca Saga

Jay wearing ten billion pairs of glasses during Just a Man and then later in chat saying that whenever he wears glasses that means he's being serious (so obviously we can interpret that Just a Man was super serious)

During Get In the Water Mason kept trying to hand Jay a tiny fork clearly trying to mime Poseidon's trident but then it also seemed like he hadn't actually watched the Six Hundred Strike animatic before because he never ended up handing the fork to Jay and his jaw dropped when Odysseus started stabbing Poseidon, at which point Jay picked up Mason's tiny fork off the table and mimed stabbing Poseidon, much to Mason's amusement

KJ jumping around on and crawling over the couch attacking random people with pillows during Scylla

So many viewers spamming the chat with pancake emojis during Survive

Mason pretending to turn into a pig during Puppeteer

Luke pretending to be the magical boar during Warrior of the Mind

JP pretending to be the cow during Mutiny

The grocery bag that they filled with air and tied up and threw around as "the wind bag" during Keep Your Friends Close and Dangerous

Jay and Luke actually pretending to game as Telemachus and Antinous during Little Wolf with what seemed to be switch controllers

The cast using one of said switch controllers as a stand in for the baby in The Horse and The Infant

Everyone applauding at the end of Charybdis when Odysseus is singing "Penelope" but then going "wait wait" and freaking out when Odysseus starts going backwards. Then Get in the Water started and Poseidon said "There you are. Coward." and Jay yelled "IT'S STEVEN!!!!!" and everyone cheered

Jay just absolutely tackling Mico in a hug at the climax of I Can't Help But Wonder

The entire cast trying to be excited and hyped at the end of the stream while saying goodbye/thank you but all of them had been crying/sobbing through the last two beautiful songs so they all just were wiping their eyes and noses and some of them just could not pull it together enough to look at the camera (looking at Luke Holt and Earle Gresham Jr. affectionately) so it was a very emotional excited goodbye

[g0dlyunsub]

not enough.

spencer couldn’t be there to help you during a case, and he thinks that he’s not deserving of your forgiveness.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of fire, burns and injuries, hospitalization, reader gets injured, angst, descriptions of blades, hurt/comfort, fluff, medical inaccuracies

word count :: 1.8k

author’s note :: i have not written in a while but here's something that's been sitting in my drafts :3

accompanying song :: breathe by lauv

"kid, you need to go."

"no, i'm not leaving you. i'm not-" spencer coughs as the dust mingles with the air in his lungs. "-i'm not leaving her."

"reid, go!" derek shouts over the roaring flames.

you can hear their desperate exchange, but you can’t say anything. 

everytime you swallow, it feels like a razor blade's sliding down your throat; it makes jagged cuts in your parched throat. 

all of your tears have evaporated from the surface of your eyes due to the scorching heat, and it hurts to blink. 

you don’t even realize that your trousers are literally on fire until spencer’s patting at the flames with his bare hand, all the while trying to get the restraints off of you.

“i can’t- i can’t get them off!” spencer heaves, and you can hear the panic in his voice turning into hot anger.

“reid, just take the other guy and go!” 

derek’s shouting, but he’s barely audible next to the unrelenting fire.

"please, let me-"

you feel spencer tug with all his might, pushing and pulling against the ropes, but they’re too tight. the ropes aren’t made of special material, but the heat’s completely melted and fused the knot, making it near-impossible to rip apart.

you can barely keep your eyes open, but you can still see spencer frantically whipping his head back and forth, glancing at you and the last hostage in the room.

derek gives spencer a knowing look, one that you know all too well. 

reluctantly, spencer looks down. 

he can see the flames reflected in your eyes. 

he can see the pain seared into your skin.

a lump starts to form in his throat.

you’re mouthing the word go.

greasy tears well up in his eyes, and spencer splutters a cry. 

“sorry.”

he adds another sorry. and he adds another, until all he’s murmuring is an incoherent stream of apologies. 

you watch as he slings his arm around the hostage’s waist and drags his feet to the exit, and you watch until all you can see is the wavy outline of his figure, distorted by the heatwaves.

your eyes flicker between open and closed.

“y/n, stay with me. no, no, no,” derek shakes you while he continues to saw through your strings with a dull object, “don’t you give up on me now.”

the smoke’s rolled up to cover the ceiling, and an amber glow coats the entire room.

with the cacophony of the roaring flames, expletives spluttering from derek’s mouth, and the back and forth of the rounded blade, the sounds of your restraints loosening barely make it to your ears.

“come on!”

derek hastily tears the fraying restraints and pulls you away from the blazing rod that you’ve been tied to.

you take a desperate gasp for air at the sudden relief, but only choke on dust and the fierce heat. 

it’s too much — too much grime, grease, toxins coating your airways. you stop trying to breathe.

you hear derek groan as he takes your limp body in his arms and lifts you up, and the sudden change in position has you seeing stars.

as derek hauls you out, you see a brief flash of the sky. you could’ve sworn it was a shade of blue clearer than the ocean before you entered, but now it’s a beat down shade of jaundiced yellow.

huh.

it’s burning so darkly.

—

when spencer sees you come out of the burning building, tucked in the arms of derek morgan, he thinks he’s looking at a fallen angel.

dark smoke and dust pepper you head to toe, and your parted lips are making such a desperate effort to stay open.

you’re not breathing.

he breaks into a sprint. the calls from hotch and rossi fly behind him, as do their attempts to grasp him back. he runs to you, and not a single person can stop him.

he drops to his knees next to your unconscious body on the ground with derek, and his heart instantly falls. 

his brain starts to perform an instant diagnosis of your condition – he sees the burn marks scattered over your arms and legs, and he can almost feel your pain, like your nerves are connected to his.

the medics surrounding the scene yell out orders to stay back so that they can start chest compressions, but spencer won’t move.

he’s with you when you jerk back out of unconsciousness, when you’re still too weak to process all of the visual and auditory cues around you.

he’s with you when you’re lifted onto the back of the ambulance.

you can hear him raising his voice at the medics.

“we need to administer aerosolized unfractionated heparin with albuterol and check for hypovolemia, she needs oral and mivf immediately upon admission-”

you phase out once again.

—

when you open your eyes, you realize that you’re not in an ordinary hospital room.

you’re inside the intensive care unit.

generally, only family members are admitted as visitors in the icu, but the man laying his head over the side rails of your bed isn’t your family member.

spencer had to break some protocol to get here.

as you shift your bandaged arms over the blanket, spencer starts to stir slightly, until he realizes that it’s you moving beside him.

his eyes widen as he raises his head.

“how do i look?” you weakly mutter and force your lips into a smile.

his lips quiver, and he’s about to reach for your hand before he realizes that you probably can’t even handle his touch.

“so-” his voice cracks, “so beautiful. so incredibly beautiful.”

your heart does a flip at his words.

“you don’t have to lie.”

he looks away for a brief second, before shaking his head. “i’m not. i swear. you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met — that i’ve ever seen.”

you let out a pained chuckle. “would you look at that, my skin’s blushing.” you turn your arm to the side slightly and loosen your bandages to reveal the pink cuts in your flesh. 

spencer’s brows knit together in a pained expression, and you cringe at your own joke.

you inhale slowly. “spill it, spence.”

“spill what?”

“you did that thing where you look away. it’s your giveaway.”

“no, i-”

you turn your head to look at him with a pleading face, and he succumbs instantly.

he pulls his hand. “i- uh…”

he looks at you once and you raise your brows, an encouraging sign to continue written all over your face.

“i don’t deserve you.”

you blink slowly.

“you deserve someone better,” he continues, looking down ashamedly.

you can't possibly be hearing him correctly. “someone better?”

“someone like morgan.”

“morgan?”

“yeah. derek morgan. he’s the one who stayed with you, who carried you out of that crumbling building. i couldn’t protect you. i failed the one thing i promised myself.” 

“spencer, i wasn’t the only one- you had to save the other guy stuck in there.”

“the worst part is-” spencer chokes, “even if i traded places with morgan, i don’t know if i would’ve gotten us out in time.”

your eyes start to water. “no, spence, don’t say that.”

“i’m not strong enough. i’m not strong like morgan, and i’m not strong enough to protect you. i let you down. i failed you.”

you shake your head. “no, spencer. no. you’ve never failed me, do you hear me? you never failed me and you never will fail me. because-”

you take a deep breath.

“you broke protocol for me, the entire time. i heard what you said to the medics in the ambulance. and you’re here. right now.”

this time, he shakes his head. “it’s the least i can do. it still doesn’t change the fact that i couldn’t take the bullet for you.”

“spencer-”

you lean forward, a strangled grunt leaving your lips, until you’re a mere inch away from spencer’s face.

“maybe,” you start, flickering your gaze left and right into his sunken eyes.

“maybe i want to take the bullet for you too. maybe i want to protect you too. maybe i want-” you smile, “-to fight to stay with you.”

he pulls back, and glassy traces of tears coats his entire face.

again, you smile. “because if you don’t deserve me, then i don’t deserve you either.”

and it’s your goddamn smile that absolves all of his worries in an instant, that makes spencer forget that you’re bundled up in layers of gauze and bandages, that makes him think you’re an angel with a golden halo that’s lighting up the entire room.

it’s only when you let out an disgruntled sigh that he realizes you’re not an angel in a dress but a patient in a hospital gown, and the guilt latches back onto him like an inseparable magnet.

spencer’s eyes soften with concern and gloss over your entire body. gently lifting the edges of the blanket, he brushes his fingers against yours.

“my arm – it’s itchy,” you explain, and close your eyes to restrain yourself from picking at your scabby skin.

“i’m sorry,” spencer returns, an empathetic expression sweeping his face. “the bandages have to stay on, unfortunately.”

“my face-” you start, and spencer’s now looking at you with an expression crossing between serious and disturbed.

“your face? does it itch? where?”

he leans over, and cups your chin in the palm of his hand. slowly, he moves your face to the left and right, until you meet his misty brown eyes in the middle.

“my mouth.”

“your mouth?”

“yeah,” you scrunch your lips in a pained expression, but smile. “i think a kiss would help.”

spencer raises his brows in surprise, and a coughy chuckle leaves the back of his throat.

he can’t fight the excitement bubbling in his heart when you say that, when you’re so adorably bold in front of him.

how could he ever deserve you?

“you asked for it,” he murmurs quietly, before leaning in and bringing his lips to yours. he caresses the side of your face as his soft lips give you a taste of his desperation, though it’s too short to quench your desire.

he pulls back and cocks his head to the side to stare at you with admiring eyes. “is that better?”

you return a contemplative look, pouting your lips slightly. “it’s still itchy.”

he shakes his head amusedly and places a hand on the cushioned mattress, before leaning in to make your heart flutter with another kiss. it’s deeper than before, but he still draws himself back to not deprive you of your air.

once again, he pulls back and graces your eyes with a shy smile. “how about now?”

you tut disapprovingly. “nope.”

a wide smile curves the corners of spencer’s mouth, and he reaches to hold your hand affectionately in his. 

your feverish cheeks light up with a hot glow when your lips intertwine with his in a slow rhythm, when spencer slowly moves his hand behind your head to tousle your strands of hair flowing through his fingers.

he doesn’t ask any more questions.

[lecsainz]

A headcanon of Percy Jackson x reader daughter of Zeus, where he has been in love since the first day he saw her, and he had also recently arrived at the camp, please

˒ ⌕ SHE IS LIKE THUNDER

parings: percy jackson x zeus!reader

an:I know I disappeared, forgive me 🤧, but picture me writing this at 3 AM, dying of sleepiness after watching the last episode of PJO, AND ANNIE USED THE NICKNAME 😭 THIS EPISODE IS STILL TOO MUCH FOR ME TO PROCESS!!!!

summary: the one where you're a daughter of zeus, exploring your relationship with percy.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )

You and Percy crossed paths during one of your training sessions. Luke was giving Percy a tour of the camp, and when Percy laid eyes on you, he halted abruptly, as if struck by lightning. For some inexplicable reason, he felt an urgent need to know who you were, as if the gods themselves demanded it.

Percy's eyes widened as he observed you from across the training grounds. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing a finger in your direction. Luke suppressed a chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Her? Oh, that's Y/N, daughter of Zeus." Percy squinted, trying to decipher your actions, as you accidentally summoned a small lightning bolt that fizzled out near your feet. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Does that happen often?" Luke grinned. "Only when she's particularly excited, which, by the way, is most of the time. You should see her during thunderstorms!" Percy blinked, watching as you waved sheepishly, causing another faint spark to crackle in the air.

You and Percy found common ground in venting about the gods upon his arrival.

"Hey, little thunder, how's it going?" Percy grinned. "Don't call me that," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm good too, thanks for asking, Lightning Rod," Percy joked, emphasizing his newfound nickname for you.

Attempts at using your powers together proved futile, as water and electricity didn't exactly make for a harmonious combination.

According to Percy, Cabin 3 was way too big for just him, and assuming you felt the same way about Cabin 1, he started a tradition. At 12:00, he'd show up at your cabin, asking to share it, turning into a routine of hosting pajama parties in each other's cabins.

After you discovered that your half-sister, Thalia, had been turned into a pine tree to save her, Percy couldn't resist teasing you about it.

"Do you think your dad would turn you into, what, a fountain? Or maybe a cherry blossom tree would suit you?" Percy grinned, enjoying the opportunity to rib you. "Jackson, shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes at his antics. Later, when Grover and Annabeth intervened, trying to keep you two from frying each other, Percy couldn't resist a parting shot. He had soaked you with water from a nearby forest stream during the mission, leaving you drenched and fueling your desire to electrocute him. "Next time you want to electrocute Percy, make sure I'm not around," Annabeth teased as they separated you, noticing your soaked state. Grover, being the peacekeeper, started singing the song of friendship, encouraging both of you to hug it out and apologize. Percy, however, observed that you were shivering from the cold as you walked. Realizing this, he handed you his jacket, concerned. "You'll catch a cold if you stay wet like this," he said, offering you warmth amidst the chilly aftermath of your water-based altercation.

Since neither you nor Percy admit to having feelings for each other, you find yourselves in constant teasing and banter.

During a mission, you two start a squabble because you want to lead everything, and he just wants to do his thing or isn't paying attention to what you're saying. Grover and Annabeth exchange glances, seeking a way to mediate.

It takes a long time before you muster the courage to admit you have feelings for the son of Poseidon. You decide to confess first because, knowing Percy, it would take ages if you waited for him.

"Percy, I need to talk in case we don't get out of here." "Spark Plug, we're getting out of here; trust me." "I like you, Seaweed Brain." He stands there in shock, mouth hanging open, unable to believe that you like him back.

After Percy managed to confess that he also liked you, you enjoyed teasing him about his stunned reaction. But deep down, you were terrified that he might have said he didn't like you back.

Percy becomes incredibly protective of you.

"Touch her, and you'll be dead."

You love stormy days and spend hours on the beach with Percy because he can control the water, ensuring you both stay dry.

"Isn't it beautiful?" "What, little storm?" You pause, gazing out at the tumultuous sea, the waves crashing against the shore. "It's like the ocean is in harmony with this storm. It's as if they understand each other, finding peace in the chaos." "Maybe," Percy finally responds, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Maybe storms and the sea have a way of finding peace in chaos because they understand that even in the wildest moments, there's a certain kind of order."

You appreciate the profound simplicity of his words, and in that moment, he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. For the first time in a long while, you feel at home

[raekensluver]

hearts aligned

description: you and your roommate spencer reid have always been there for each other. one night he comes back from work and you two discover a different side to your dynamic.

pairing: roomate!spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: fluff!! mutual pining, typical criminal minds violence, reader is described as having shoulder length hair

song rec: fallen star by the nbhd- "you're in my dna, i can't keep away no matter how hard i try"

w.c: 2.7k

an: *sob* i love him.

it was a mundane tuesday evening, the kind that bled into the fabric of the week seamlessly. the apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator echoing through the hallway. the soft glow of the living room lamp cast a warm, buttery light, a stark contrast to the deepening shadows outside the window. you sat cross-legged on the couch, your nose buried in a well-worn paperback, the plot weaving in and out of your consciousness like a gentle stream.

the sound of the lock turning brought your head up with a jolt, the bookmark slipping from your fingers to land silently on the carpet. spencer reid, your roommate, stepped inside, his eyes weary but a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. his gaze swept the room before settling on you, the surprise in his eyes unmistakable. "you're still up," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very air.

you closed the book with a soft thud and gave him a warm smile. "yeah, i had some trouble sleeping," you admitted, your voice a little hoarse from the quiet of the night. "do you want some tea?" you offered, already pushing to your feet. his nod was all the encouragement you needed as you padded into the kitchen, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of the living room. while the water heated, you listened to the soft thud of his shoes against the floor as he moved towards his room, the jingle of his keys a familiar lullaby.

but when you turned with the steaming mug in hand, you found him hovering in the doorway, watching you. "you know, i can do that," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't mind, really." his voice was gentle, a hint of concern lacing his words.

you paused, the ceramic warm against your palms, and studied him for a moment. his tie was askew, his shirt wrinkled from a long day's work, and his hair, normally a neat cap of chocolate waves, was disheveled. "you've had a long day," you said, your voice firm but kind. "just sit." you gestured to the stool at the kitchen island, the one that faced the stove where you were already setting out ingredients for a simple meal. "i'll make us something light."

he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "alright," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a seat. the fabric of his pants whispered against the leather of the stool as he settled in, his eyes never leaving you as you moved with an easy grace around the kitchen. you could feel the weight of his gaze, a warm presence that made your cheeks flush, and your heart stutter in your chest.

you filled a pan with oil, the faint sizzle as it heated up a comforting sound. "so, how was work today?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the sudden thrum of anticipation that had taken root in your veins.

spencer took a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful. "it was… interesting," he said, his gaze drifting over the steaming liquid. "but i'd rather not talk about that right now," he added, his voice a low murmur. "do you mind if we talk about something else?"

you nodded, setting aside the knife you were using to chop vegetables. "of course," you said, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. "what do you want to talk about?"

spencer leaned against the counter, his expression pensive. "tell me about your day," he said, his eyes searching yours. "i feel like i never get to hear about it."

you felt a flutter in your stomach. "it was…normal," you said, the words feeling almost rehearsed. "work, errands, the usual."

spencer's gaze remained steady, a hint of curiosity lighting his eyes. "anything exciting happen?"

you couldn't help but chuckle at his persistence. "well, if you consider accidentally matching my socks with my shirt 'exciting,' then yes, it was quite the thriller," you said with a wry smile.

his eyes lit up with amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching. "i see," he said, his voice teasing. "that does sound like a tale for the ages."

you rolled your eyes playfully, the tension in the room easing a notch. "it was definitely a fashion statement," you quipped, tossing a chopped carrot into the pan. the sizzle filled the air, the scent of garlic and onions mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

spencer set his tea aside, leaning closer. "i'm sure it was," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "but really, anything interesting happen?"

you met his gaze, a sudden realization dawning. "you know what, spencer?" you said, your voice earnest. "right now, this moment, is the most interesting thing that's happened to me all day." his eyes widened slightly, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. "just being here, with you, talking about nothing in particular… it's nice."

his cheeks colored slightly, and he ducked his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "it is," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "i don't get to do this very often."

you cocked your head to the side, studying him. "what do you mean?"

he shrugged, his eyes darting to the floor. "i spend so much time working, or reading, or… just in my own head," he admitted. "i don't get to just sit and talk with people. not like this."

you felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of connection that was more profound than any conversation you'd had with him before. "i'm always here, you know," you said softly, the words slipping out before you could second guess them. "if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with."

his eyes snapped back up to yours, the surprise in them clear. "i know," he said, his voice a little gruff. "i just… i don't want to burden you."

you set the spatula down, moving closer to him. "you're not a burden, spencer," you said, your voice firm. "you're my roommate. and if you ever need anything, i'm here."

his eyes searched yours, the depth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. "i know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "it's just… i don't want to take advantage."

you reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "you could never take advantage," you assured him, your thumb stroking a gentle circle against his skin. "we're friends, we're supposed to be here for each other."

spencer's eyes dropped to where your hand rested, the warmth of your touch seeping into his bones. "i know that," he murmured. "but i also know that you have your own life, your own things to deal with."

you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before retreating to the stove, the comforting dance of cooking resuming as if the moment had never happened. "and you're part of my life," you said, your back to him. "so, what's one more thing?"

spencer watched you for a moment, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, the way your hair fell in soft waves down to your shoulders. he took a deep breath, the scent of the simmering food filling his nostrils. "what's your favorite memory?" he asked, his voice a little rough.

you glanced over your shoulder, a smile playing on your lips. "just one?" you teased, turning back to the stove. "that's a tough one." you stirred the contents of the pan, the spices releasing a symphony of aromas into the air. "but if i had to pick, it would probably be the first time we moved in together."

spencer's eyes lit up, the memory obviously a good one. "that was… crazy," he said with a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "but also… nice."

you nodded, your smile growing. "i remember being so nervous," you said, the words bringing a warm rush of nostalgia. "i didn't know what to expect, moving in with someone i'd only met once before."

spencer's gaze grew distant, his mind traveling back to that fateful day. "i was the same," he admitted. "i had this whole speech prepared about how we should respect each other's space and keep things clean, but when i saw you, it all just… disappeared."

you turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. "really?"

he nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "i know it sounds ridiculous, but you just… you made me feel comfortable. like i could be myself around you."

you felt your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "i felt the same way," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i remember walking in and seeing all these boxes, and thinking 'what have i gotten myself into?'" you laughed, the sound a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. "but then you looked up from your book, and you just… you were so genuine, so welcoming."

spencer's smile grew, his eyes a soft brown in the muted light. "i've never regretted that decision," he said, his voice earnest. "you make this place feel like home."

you blinked, the sudden weight of his words settling in your stomach. "i'm… i'm happy to hear that," you said, your voice a little breathless.

spencer pushed himself off the stool, the sound of it scraping against the tile floor breaking the silence. he took a step closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating like a small sun. "i mean it," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "you're the best roommate i could ever ask for."

you swallowed hard, the heat of the stove behind you seemingly nothing compared to the warmth in front of you. "thank you," you whispered, your hand still clutching the spatula. "you're pretty great too."

his smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "yeah?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

you nodded, feeling your heart race. "yes," you said, turning back to the stove to give yourself a moment to compose. "you're always there when i need you, and you put up with my terrible cooking."

spencer chuckled, moving closer to peer into the pan. "i wouldn't say it's terrible," he said, his eyes twinkling. "just… adventurous."

you shot him a playful glare, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "adventurous, huh?" you said, shaking your head. "i'll take that as a compliment."

spencer stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take the spatula from your grip. "i'll help," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the air between you felt charged, the tension thick and palpable. your heart was racing, each beat echoing in your ears like the tick of a clock counting down to something you hadn't quite anticipated.

you let him take over, watching as his long, slender fingers deftly stirred the sizzling mixture. "i've been meaning to tell you something," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "i know we've been roommates for a while now, but… i've started to realize that i might like you a little more than just a friend."

you froze, the heat from the stove forgotten. your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of uncertainty or jest, but all you found was sincerity. "spencer," you began, but he held up a hand to stop you.

"i know it's weird," he said, his voice rushing out like a river that had been dammed for too long. "and i know we're friends, and roommates, but… i can't ignore it anymore."

you stared at him, your thoughts racing faster than the cars on the street outside. "spencer," you breathed, his name a question, a declaration, a plea all rolled into one. your hand hovered in the space between you, unsure of where to land.

his eyes searched yours, the warmth of his hand as he took the spatula a silent promise. "i know," he continued, his voice a little shaky. "but i can't help it. every time i come home and you're here, waiting for me, it's like… it's like coming home to a piece of sunshine."

you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the words resonating deep within you. "spencer," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips. "i… i feel the same way." the words hung in the air, a soft confession that seemed to illuminate the kitchen with a gentle glow.

his eyes searched yours, a hopeful spark lighting them up. "you do?" he asked, his voice tentative, as if he was afraid to believe.

you nodded, your own heart racing. "yes," you said, your voice clear and firm. "i've liked you for a while now. i just didn't know how to tell you." the admission felt like a weight lifting off your chest, leaving you feeling lighter than air.

spencer's smile grew, a genuine, boyish grin that made your heart flutter. "really?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

you nodded, your cheeks flushing a soft pink. "yes," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. "i just didn't want to mess things up."

spencer set the spatula down, the clatter against the pan a jolting sound in the quiet kitchen. "you could never mess things up," he said, his voice a soft promise. "not with me."

you took a step closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in like a magnet. "are you sure?" you asked, your voice a little shaky.

he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "i've never been more sure of anything in my life," he said, his voice a low murmur. "you make me feel… alive, in a way i haven't felt in a long time."

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the confession so raw and honest that it was like a punch to the gut. "spencer," you whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips.

his eyes searched yours, the question in them unspoken but clear. "what are we going to do?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

you took a deep breath, the scent of the food on the stove forgotten. "i don't know," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i just know that i don't want to ignore this anymore."

spencer reached up, his hand covering yours on his cheek. "neither do i," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. "i don't want to pretend it's not there."

you stepped closer, your hand sliding down to cup his face fully. "then let's not," you said, your voice a little tremulous. "let's see where this goes."

his eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively. it was a gentle touch, a question that hung in the air between you, waiting for an answer. you responded with a sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body a comforting embrace that seemed to fit you perfectly.

the world outside the kitchen faded away, the only sounds the faint crackle of the stove and the thud of your hearts beating in sync. the kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. your hands tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk.

you two broke apart, breathless, your eyes searching each other's for any sign of doubt or regret. but all you saw was a reflection of your own feelings - a wild, unbridled hope that seemed to set the room alight. spencer's chest rose and fell in time with yours, his eyes dark with want.

"i've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

you nodded, your eyes searching his. "i know," you said, your voice just as soft. "me too."

his thumb traced the curve of your lower lip, his gaze never leaving yours. "are we… are we okay?" he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yes," you breathed, the word a soft promise. "we're more than okay."

edited 11.30.24

[chrispleasure]

CANT SLEEP, c.s

summary!: chris cant sleep without apologising to his girlfriend, afraid it might be her last night.

not proof read!

the air became heated, you didnt want to shower with chris, which caused him to yell at you. “what! are you afraid of seeing a dick or something?!” he yells, stepping out of the bathroom.

he didnt want to argue, but he felt hurt that you wanted to be alone and not with him. “its not that— im not afraid. i just want some peace.” you stood by the doorway, watching as he undressed himself.

chris took a few blankets and one of his pillows and left the room, carrying the argument further. you decided now was the best time to have your shower, knowing he wont bother you.

as the water become heated, you undressed and stepped under the square shower head. soft hums escaped your lips, “hmm..” you mumbled, leaning back.

the bathroom lights werent on either, which spiked your mood to feel more flirty and sexy. your hand traveled near your wet pussy, hesitant to touch yourself.

you decided against and brought your hand back to your chest, crossing your arms and letting the water take over.

downstairs, chris lies down on the couch cuddled up in his blankets and pillow. silently hoping you would come down stairs and apologize.

it was stupid, you werent the one who needed to apologise. he did. but he was too immature to be the bigger person.

small tears escaped his eyes and went onto the white pillow, he sunk deep intonthe couch. chris wanted a hug, a gesture of love.

he didnt mean to act out like this, part of him was still angry for yelling at you like he did. little did he know he was the last thing on your mind.

you were near the end of your playlist on spotify, the song ending. which meant it was time to get out of the shower and apologise.

which you dreaded, not wanting to see his pretty face. the tears which were most likely streaming down his cheeks.

as you stumble out of the shower, you slip and hit your head on the counter. “fuck!” you wince, letting out a small sob as you sit up.

you instinctively cover the corner of your head with your hand, causing blood to drip down onto it. “mmph- shit, shit..” you sob, rocking back and forth.

you wanted chris’s comfort instantly, but he wouldnt give it too you, you did definitely say some hurtful things too and about him.

after a few minutes of crying, you pull yourself off the ground, getting used to the feeling of your head feeling as if it’s about to fall off.

you scurry and put on the pajamas you left on the counter, stumbling to the bedroom. you didnt even bother going downstairs to say goodnight.

immediately, without a thought, you get under the blankets. moving your body to adjust to the feeling of the sheets.

it feels like heaven, closing your eyes and relaxing. part of you wanted chris cuddling into you, speaking reasurring words into your ear, touching around your breasts to calm you down. but he was all the way downstairs, probably pissed off.

as your thoughts drifted to random things, you fell asleep quickly. your body relaxing in a comfortable position.

but chris on the other hand, couldnt shut an eye. he stayed on the same couch for hours, hungry for cuddles or even a kiss.

he tried, tried and tried, but nothing. just black, no dream, nothing. he couldnt sleep angry with you, or you angry at him.

he sat up, grabbing his pillow. he walked upstairs, tears wet on his face. he was shaking and sobbing quietly.

a few quiet knocks were heard. when he got no response, he decided to walk in. after all, it was also his room.

he walks in, walking to his side of his bed. “baby? you ‘wake?” he asks, his side of the bed sinking a little as he layed down.

you slept peacefully, not hearing anything he was saying or asking. he shook you, moving closer for comfort. “ma, wake up..” he sniffles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

without question, you woke up, thinking their was an earthquake. you looked to your left, seeing chris’s figure shaking you.

once he saw you were awake, he stopped. looking at you with a frown. “what do you want, chris?” you asked tiredly, resting your head on the pillow.

“im sorry for getting angry.. i just wanted a shower with you, i feel a need to always be close to you at all times.” he apologised, cuddling close to you.

a soft smile played on your lips, feeling happy he apologised. “i also jus’ couldnt sleep without saying sorry. you couldve died in your sleep.” he says in a worried tone.

you chuckled, turning to face him fully. “hey, hey.. im okay. im healthy enough that i wont die for a while.” you rub his cheek, met with the now dried tears that stayed there.

“you cried?” you asked, frowning a little. he nods, putting his hand on your wrist. “can we just cuddle and sleep? i need comfort.” he whines, moving closer.

your body pressed against his, pressing a kiss against his neck a few times before drifting off. “i love you.” you say.

the end!!

[regressionschool]

A Quiet Afternoon at Home

The sun streamed through the window of the cozy living room, bathing the space in warm, golden light. Kim sat perched in her highchair, legs swinging idly in the air, her bunny-covered footie pajamas crinkling softly with every move. A large pink bib, embroidered with "Daddy's Little Angel," hung around her neck, slightly smeared with the remnants of mashed bananas from her lunch.

Her expression was one of mild distraction, lips pursed around her thumb, eyes fixed on the colorful cartoons playing on the TV. But the occasional wiggle of her bottom betrayed something else entirely—an unconscious habit born of her complete lack of control. Her diaper, already swollen from the morning, gave a faint squish as she shifted in place, unaware of the telltale signs of what had just happened.

“Kimmy,” called a warm, sing-song voice from the kitchen. It was Sarah, her caretaker, carrying a sippy cup filled with apple juice. She approached with a practiced patience, as if dealing with a little one who had long accepted her place. “Did you make another present for me?”

Kim blinked at her, thumb slipping from her mouth with a soft pop. Her cheeks flushed pink, a mix of embarrassment and resignation crossing her face. She didn’t need to answer; the sagging weight of her diaper said it all. Sarah gave her a knowing smile, setting the sippy cup down on the tray of the highchair.

“Aww, it’s okay, sweetie,” Sarah cooed, reaching over to tousle Kim’s blonde hair, now tied into two childish pigtails. “That’s what your diapers are for, isn’t it? You tried to hold it, didn’t you?”

Kim nodded faintly, her lower lip quivering. “I-I felt it, but…” She trailed off, glancing down at her lap, where her hands nervously fidgeted with the edge of her pajama sleeves. “It just… happened.”

“It always does, baby,” Sarah said softly, crouching down so she was at eye level. “You’re just not big enough to make it to the potty, are you?”

Kim bit her lip, tears threatening to spill. She didn’t protest, didn’t argue, because deep down she knew Sarah was right. She’d been through regression school, where every ounce of her adult independence had been carefully stripped away, replaced with the routines and instincts of a toddler who might think about potty training but could never follow through. The smallest flutter in her tummy was always too late, her body betraying her before she even realized it was happening.

Sarah leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Kim’s forehead. “No tears, sweetheart. Mommy’s here to keep you dry and happy. Well… maybe not dry,” she teased with a light chuckle. “But happy, for sure.”

Kim managed a small smile, the corners of her lips twitching upward despite herself. She clung to the comforting reassurance in Sarah’s voice, even as her soggy diaper grew cold and clammy against her skin. This was her normal now—no responsibility, no expectations beyond simply being the little girl she’d been molded into.

“Now,” Sarah said, lifting Kim from the highchair with ease, her arms cradling her protectively. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into a nice fresh diaper, okay? Then maybe we’ll do some coloring. Or would my little princess like to play tea party instead?”

Kim wrapped her arms around Sarah’s neck, resting her head on her caretaker’s shoulder. She didn’t answer right away, simply snuggling closer as Sarah carried her to the nursery. The familiar scent of baby powder and plush toys greeted them as they entered, the pastel pink walls and crib a constant reminder of just how far Kim had regressed.

As Sarah laid her down on the changing table, Kim let out a small sigh, her thumb creeping back into her mouth. She didn’t fight it, didn’t squirm. There was no point. Her future was as padded and protected as the diapers she’d never leave behind.

For Kim, this was forever. She’d always be the toddler stuck on the cusp of potty training but never quite making it. And, as Sarah lovingly taped up a fresh, crinkly diaper around her waist, Kim couldn’t deny the tiniest spark of comfort in that reality.

[jellyfishsthings]

Lazy Days In

WARNINGS: sickenly cute and fluffy. Dad Spencer with his adorable family... tried to give the kids some some personality and being supportive of each others hobbies/interests

requests are open

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting dappled patterns across the table where a small mountain of Lego bricks, scattered drawings, and half-eaten toast coexisted in a chaotic harmony. Spencer Reid, a man whose intelligence rivaled his son’s towering Lego creations, stood at the sink, rinsing off a plate while humming a tune that was a mix of classical and some catchy children's song. 

“Hey, Spence,” you called from the living room, where the sound of clattering toys and giggles filled the air. “Can you bring me the—”

“Dinosaur?” he interrupted, a teasing lilt in his voice. He turned, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, his deep brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or should I get the princess crown for Diana?”

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to see your oldest, Diana, spinning in circles with a sparkly tiara atop her head. “Definitely the crown for our little princess,” you replied, grinning.

“Got it!” He finished rinsing the plate and walked over, his long legs making quick work of the distance. He plopped the crown onto Diana’s head with a flourish. “Your Highness, may I present your royal Lego castle?” 

Diana clapped her hands, a high-pitched squeal escaping her lips. “Yay! Daddy, you’re the best!” 

“Not as good as your mother, of course,” he added, winking at you.

Your heart swelled. Spencer wasn’t just a brilliant mind; he was the kind of dad who made every day feel like magic. “Okay, King Spencer, time to get our little dinosaurs wrangled. Avery needs some attention before she turns into a T-Rex herself.”

With a laugh, Spencer moved to the playpen in the corner of the room, where Avery, their youngest, was propped up with a plush dinosaur. She babbled happily, her round cheeks squished against the soft fabric. “Rawr!” she squealed, waving her tiny arms.

“Look, everyone!” Spencer exclaimed, crouching down to Avery’s level. “We have a fierce dinosaur here! What do we do when a dinosaur is loose in the house?”

“Run!” shouted Gideon, your five-year-old, who was currently building a fortress of Legos, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“Or feed it!” Diana added, twirling again, her tiara sparkling in the sunlight.

“Excellent ideas!” Spencer said, pretending to look worried. “But I think we should feed it some very special food.” He picked up a rubber dinosaur from Avery’s playpen and held it up dramatically. “How about this? A delicious, squishy, organic dino!”

Gideon burst into laughter, a sound that always warms your heart. “Dad, that’s not real food!”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked, giving the dinosaur a thoughtful look. “It’s a very nutritious rubber dinosaur. Packed with vitamins!” 

The laughter in the room was infectious, echoing off the walls of your cozy home. You couldn't help but join in, your laughter mingling with the children's joyful noises. 

“Okay, how about we feed Avery some actual food instead?” you suggested, wiping tears of mirth from your eyes. “Spencer, you take care of that while I get lunch ready?”

“Sure! Avery, what do you say to a feast fit for a dinosaur?” Spencer said, reaching into the fridge for some mashed bananas, the perfect dino snack.

With Avery happily munching and your other children immersed in their games, you slipped into the kitchen, the familiar scent of peanut butter and jelly filling the air. As you spread the sticky substance on bread, you glanced back at Spencer. He was making silly faces at Avery, who was giggling and smearing bananas across her tiny mouth.

“Mommy!” Diana cried, her voice cutting through the lighthearted chaos. “Can we have a royal picnic after lunch?”

“A picnic?” you echoed, pausing mid-spread. “What a wonderful idea! We can set up blankets in the backyard!”

“Can we have dinosaurs and Legos at the picnic?” Gideon asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Of course! We can have a dinosaur picnic!” you agreed, grinning at their enthusiasm. 

“Rawr!” Avery squealed again, her little hands reaching for more bananas.

“Rawr!” Spencer echoed, making her laugh once more. “I think we have a dino expert right here!”

“Dino expert!” Avery repeated, clapping her hands together.

After lunch, you all gathered supplies for the picnic. The kids raced around the house, gathering their favorite toys, while Spencer and you laid out blankets in the sun-drenched yard. The backyard was your little paradise, with colorful flowers blooming, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air, and the sound of birds chirping in the trees.

“Okay, everyone! Are we ready for the royal dino picnic?” you announced, spreading the blankets out under a large oak tree.

“Yay!” The kids cheered in unison, their voices ringing out like a chorus of joy.

As you settled down, Diana arranged her princess dolls next to Avery’s dinosaurs, while Gideon built a Lego fortress to protect them all from imaginary storms. In a matter of moments, laughter filled the air as they played their games, and you took a moment to just watch, heart full.

Spencer laid back on the blanket beside you, his head resting on his hands, a soft smile on his face. “This is nice,” he said, glancing over at you. 

“It really is,” you agreed, leaning back on your elbows. 

“Do you think we could do this every weekend?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with sincerity.

“Every weekend sounds perfect,” you said, your heart fluttering at the thought of endless afternoons like this.

Spencer turned his head, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you more intently. “You know, I’ve been thinking…” 

“Uhoh. That usually means trouble,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, really. I mean, we’ve been so happy with the kids, and I know we’ve talked about it before…”

“What?” you prompted, curiosity piqued. 

“Having another baby,” he said, his voice lowering slightly as if he were revealing a secret.

Your heart raced. “You want to have another baby?” 

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze earnest. “I mean, if you’re okay with it. I’d love to have as many kids as you want. As many as you can give me.”

“Spencer, that’s a big decision,” you replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and hesitation. “We already have four!”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “But look at these three. They’re amazing, and I love being a dad. I could do this forever.” 

You smiled, imagining another little one crawling around the house, adding to the beautiful chaos. “You really think we could handle another?”

“I think we could handle anything together,” he said, reaching for your hand, intertwining your fingers. 

Before you could respond, Gideon interrupted, his voice loud and filled with the seriousness only a five-year-old could muster. “But Daddy, you already ate like a dinosaur! You can’t eat another one!”

Spencer burst out laughing, the sound light and contagious. “I didn’t eat a dinosaur! I just had lunch!”

“Then how are you going to have another baby?” Diana chimed in, her brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Uh…” Spencer stammered, glancing at you for help.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not about eating dinosaurs, sweetheart. It’s about love and family.”

“Oh!” Diana said, her face brightening. “So we can just love the baby?”

“Exactly!” you replied, beaming at her. 

Baby Victoria gurgled in agreement, her tiny hands reaching for Spencer's face, eager for attention as she roused from her nap.

“Does that mean we can have more toys?” Gideon asked, his eyes wide with hope.

“More toys and more love,” Spencer confirmed, his gaze lingering on you, warmth radiating from his expression.

“I want a sister who likes princesses,” Diana declared, her tone matter-of-fact. 

“And a brother who likes dinosaurs!” Gideon added quickly, nodding emphatically.

“Why not both?” Spencer suggested, a playful grin spreading across his face. “A little sister who’s a princess-dinosaur hybrid!”

“That’s silly!” Diana squealed, laughing. 

“Yeah! But also awesome!” Gideon chimed in, joining in the laughter.

You watched them, your heart swelling with love and laughter. The air around you buzzed with joy, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. 

“Okay, how about we make a deal?” you proposed, a playful glint in your eye. “If we have another baby, you two promise to help out and be the best big siblings ever?”

“Deal!” they shouted in unison, their excitement palpable.

As Spencer leaned in closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, you felt a wave of contentment wash over you. The idea of another child filled you with warmth, and the laughter of your children echoed in your mind like a sweet melody.

“Looks like we’ll have to start planning,” Spencer said, his voice low and teasing, his eyes sparkling.

“Planning? What do you mean?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Well, I suppose we need to make sure I’m not eating dinosaurs anytime soon,” he shot back with a grin.

You burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the playful chaos of your children. “No more dinosaur snacks for you, then!”

“Rawr!” Spencer replied, mimicking a dinosaur once more, prompting another round of giggles from the kids.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden hue across the yard, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together—one dinosaur, one princess, one Lego builder, and one tiny baby at a time.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SAILOR SONG

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a comfy indoor date; baking together.

WARNING: Making out.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

'I saw her in the rightest way'

The kitchen was an absolute mess, a delightful, chaotic swirl of ingredients strewn across the counters, flour dusting the air, and the aroma of vanilla mixing with the sound of their favorite playlist softly drifting in from the living room. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene as Y/N stood at the counter, carefully measuring flour into a white-ish ceramic bowl. Beside her, Matt was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed solely on her, watching her with an intensity that could have melted chocolate.

"Okay, so you just, like, throw the flour in, right?" Matt asked, breaking the comfortable silence, reaching for the open bag with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that spelled disaster.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively darting forward to stop him.

"Wait, wait- Matt, no!" But it was too late. A poof of flour erupted like a mini explosion, covering both of them in a soft, powdery cloud.

Matt froze, blinking through the haze, and then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"Oops." He said with that boyish grin of his, the one that made Y/N’s heart do a little flip every time.

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, laughter bubbling up as she brushed flour off her cheek.

"You’re such a mess." She teased, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling.

"And yet, here you are teaching me." He shot back, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess that says something about you, huh?"

"Yeah." She said with a mock exasperated sigh. "That I’m a hopeless romantic who thinks you can actually learn how to bake."

Matt just grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on her flour-dusted nose, making her scrunch it up adorably in response.

"Alright, lover boy." Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. "Let’s try not to blow up the kitchen, okay? I need you to grab the sugar next."

"Yes, ma’am." Matt replied, snapping a playful salute before turning to rummage through the cupboard. He managed to grab the sugar jar without spilling anything this time - progress, she thought with a fond smile.

They continued to work side by side, the kitchen filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar. Y/N would occasionally reach out to correct Matt’s technique, her touch light but effective. Every time their hands brushed, Matt would flash her that lopsided grin that always made her cheeks warm. She tried to stay focused, but with him being so close, so effortlessly charming, it was a losing battle.

At some point, they both reached for the vanilla extract at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and Matt shot her a playful look.

"Hey, who’s the baker here?" Y/N teased, nudging him aside with her hip, her laughter light and teasing.

"I don’t know, I don't see them anywhere." He joked, pretending to search around the room, making her roll her eyes though the grin on her lips was impossible to hide.

They kept mixing and measuring, Matt’s enthusiasm both endearing and chaotic. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he made his biggest blunder yet. He grabbed the baking soda and dumped a generous amount into the bowl, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

"Matt, no!" Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "That’s way too much! You’re going to ruin the batter!"

Matt looked from the bowl to her, then back at the bowl, his eyes comically wide. But instead of panicking, he simply shrugged and started laughing, his laughter so infectious that Y/N’s frustration began to dissolve.

"Matt, I’m serious." She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This was supposed to be perfect, and now they’re going to taste like-"

"Hey, hey." Matt said softly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'm sorry, yeah?"

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his warm embrace. Y/N sighed, trying to hold onto her annoyance, but the way he was looking at her - with that soft, adoring gaze - made it nearly impossible.

As if the universe was observing them closely, te next song on the queue started playing, and when Matt realized that it was one of their favorite - Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, obviously - his body started swaying gently, bringing her with him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying not to smile, her voice softening as her hands found home against his biceps.

"Distracting you." He said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Is it working?"

Y/N tried to stay annoyed, but the tenderness in his eyes melted her defenses.

"You are so ridiculous." She said, but her words were softened by the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Ridiculously in love with you." He murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Can you forgive me?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she let out a soft, defeated sigh, leaning into him fully.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "But you’re still fixing the batter."

"Deal." He said with a grin. And before she could pull away, he spun her around in a quick twirl, eliciting a surprised, joyful laugh from her, her apron flowing around her body.

As she came back into his arms, breathless and giddy, her eyes met blue soft ones, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, Mr. Sturniolo."

"And you love me for it." He replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her against him.

"Yeah." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

With the playful moment fading into a comfortable silence, they returned to the counter, side by side once more. Y/N sighed dramatically, surveying the batter that was now slightly too foamy from Matt’s over-enthusiastic addition of baking soda.

"Okay, let’s see if we can salvage this." She said, her voice taking on that determined tone Matt found so adorable.

"How bad did I mess it up?" He asked, a wince escaping his lips.

"Not too bad." Y/N admitted with a small, fond smile. "We can balance it out with a little extra flour and sugar."

"Got it." Matt said, nodding eagerly as he grabbed the bag of flour, waiting for her instructions.

They worked together to fix the batter, Matt actually listening this time, his focus unwavering as Y/N explained what to do. After a few minutes of adjustments, Y/N dipped her finger into the batter for a taste test. Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise.

"Hey, it’s actually good!" She exclaimed.

Matt’s face broke into a proud grin.

"See? I knew I could fix it." He said smugly.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N hummed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Pretty sure I did most of the fixing."

"But it was my idea to fix it." He countered, leaning in to press his lips against her warm cheek.

"Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you mess up anything else." Y/N said, lifting the tray carefully.

Her fingers were nimble as she adjusted the rack, carefully placing the cupcake tray into the preheated oven.

Matt couldn’t help but stop for a bit and just stare, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving her. There was something about watching her work, so effortlessly absorbed in what she loved, that made him feel as though the entire world had slowed to a gentle stop just for them.

It wasn't his fault. He reasoned to himself. It wasn't his fault he found everything she did so endlessly endearing, so worth watching with that starstruck gaze that his brothers teased him about. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers dusted with flour, her lips pursed slightly as she adjusted the oven dial; it all made his heart swell.

Y/N stood up, wiping her hands on her yellow apron and closing the oven door with a soft clink. She turned to grab the timer, only to notice the way Matt was staring at her, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dazed expression. He looked as if he were lost in a dream, his gaze so soft it made her heart skip a beat.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she tilted her head slightly and smiled shyly.

"What?" She asked with a soft laugh, setting the timer up. "Do I still have flour on my face?"

Matt didn’t answer right away, his eyes never wavering from hers. It was like he was in some kind of trance, completely mesmerized. After a few seconds, he finally blinked, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah." He said simply, his voice so low and gentle it made her stomach flip.

Before she could ask where, Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Right here." He dipped his head and began to trail soft, lingering kisses along her jaw. His lips brushed tenderly against her skin, and with each kiss, he pulled a soft, breathless giggle from her lips. The sweet sound made him smile against her cheek, his eyes closing as he continued his path to her chin, and then to her cheeks, where he left playful kisses that were so light, they were almost ticklish.

"Matt." She breathed out, half-laughing, half-sighing, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Her fingers traced slow circles over his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

He paused, hovering just above her lips, so close that she could feel the ghost of his breath on her mouth but not quite touching her. His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a playfulness mixed with adoration in them that made her knees feel weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her like this.

"Matt." She repeated, her voice a whisper now, filled with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

"Kiss me properly." She demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?'

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in just a fraction more, brushing his lips against hers, still not quite giving in. But Y/N, never one to be outdone, closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that sent warmth blooming through her chest.

Matt’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Y/N’s hands wandered from his chest to his biceps, squeezing slightly at the firmness there, before sliding up to his shoulders and finally into his hair. She tugged gently, earning a soft sigh from him that she could feel warming up her face.

Their lips curved into smiles as they kissed, each touch and movement so full of affection it made Y/N’s heart feel light. Matt blindly started to sway their bodies again, following the slow rhythm of the indie song, his hands exploring the small of her back, fingers spreading wide as if he wanted to memorize every curve.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, no kitchen, no baking, just the soft, sweet connection between their lips and the feel of each other’s warmth.

But the intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud DING! from the oven.

The sound made Y/N jump slightly, pulling away from Matt with a startled gasp. Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the joyous sound filling the kitchen as he pressed one last, playful kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Guess that’s our cue." He said, still chuckling as he gave her a quick eskimo kiss, their noses brushing together.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she gently pushed him away.

"Goofball." She muttered affectionately, her cheeks still flushed.

Reluctantly pulling away, Matt released her from his embrace, giving her one last, lingering look before letting her turn her attention back to the oven. Y/N leaned down to peer through the glass, her hands resting on her knees as she checked the cupcakes.

Matt watched her from behind, unable to resist the fond smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her brows knitting together as she inspected their work made his heart swell.

"They look perfect." Y/N announced, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

"All thanks to you." Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love baking with you." He whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"Even if you’re terrible at it?" She teased.

"Especially because I’m terrible at it." He replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Gives you more reasons to stick around."

'And we can run away to the walls inside your house'

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

[moonriizing]

is it new year’s yet? | l.hs (18+)

Coming home for Christmas is your least favorite part of the year. But this time, you're up for a pleasant surprise when you get introduced to your cousin's friend from uni, Lee Heeseung.

Genre: holiday fling, smut Pairing: Lee Heeseung x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 9.7k words. Listening to is it new year's yet by Sabrina Carpenter. First post on this blog and first enha fic! Do let me know what you think about this. Thank you! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally, nor do I claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol (nct mark), that is me. xoxo, cal.

Holidays are for family reunions and coming home to bond with your loved ones. Bullshit. You’d rather be anywhere but here.

Here being your family home, bright and cheerful with Christmas decors and merry chatter from relatives and family friends. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread permeated the halls and the Christmas songs playing from the speakers your mother had strategically placed around the house were grating on your nerves, making you dizzier than the champagne you were drinking. 

Home. Familiar, warm, and somehow... suffocating.

You didn’t hate your family—far from it. You loved them with every fiber of your being. But that didn’t make the family tradition of hosting a horde of relatives and family friends for Christmas any less unbearable.

You should be used to it by now, considering how your mother had always made it her mission to be the ultimate hostess. What might have seemed magical when you were a kid now felt so unnecessary. As you grew older, it became harder to tolerate the endless stream of insufferable relatives and their even more insufferable commentary.

“Did you lose weight?” a distant aunt asked, her eyes raking over you like you were a mannequin in a store window. “You need to eat more. You’re so skinny.”

Just call me fat, why don’t you? you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “I know. I did it on purpose,” you replied curtly before tossing back the last of your champagne. You didn’t wait for her reaction. You simply walked away, the bubbles fizzing in your throat as you searched for somewhere to hide.

You wove your way through the crowd, dodging overly familiar pats on the shoulder and sidelong glances that screamed When are you graduating? or Where’s your boyfriend?

The living room was packed with people swapping stories you’d heard a hundred times before. The scent of pine from the overdecorated tree blended with the warm spice of wine and sugary sweetness from the dessert table. The whole atmosphere was so perfect and festive that it made it a little hard to breathe. 

You needed air. Or another drink. Although, both are fine too.

In the kitchen, you poured yourself another glass of champagne and leaned against the counter, fishing out your phone to scroll mindlessly. A part of you considered texting Yeonjun—the guy you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was probably back in the city, having the time of his life at some glittering party—champagne in hand, gorgeous people all around, someone to kiss at midnight.

“Fuck this,” you muttered under your breath, stuffing your phone back in your pocket as you walked out of the kitchen.

Rounding the corner too fast, you slammed into someone—a steady grip caught your arm before the champagne could spill. 

“Easy there,” he said, his voice low and warm. You glanced up and found a stranger: messy hair, sharp jawline, and an easy smile that contrasted with the chaos around you. He looked your age, maybe a bit older.

“Thanks,” you muttered, eyeing him curiously. You could not remember seeing him anywhere before, so naturally, your immediate assumption was that he was a guest’s plus one. He could be a cousin’s boyfriend or something and you were just about to ask him that when your cousin Jake appeared beside him.

“Oooh, look who showed up!” Jake said, tilting his head with that playful glint you always found irritating.

You rolled your eyes. “I always show up.”

“Of course you do.” Jake leaned against the wall, arms crossed and grinning. “You hate it here, don’t you?”

You tilted your head at him, pretending to think. “What gave it away? My overflowing enthusiasm?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jake teased. “A little family bonding with your favorite aunts would be nice. Aren’t you supposed to pack them a gift each?”

You drained the last of your champagne, letting the fizz linger as you looked at your cousin. “I’d rather die.”

Jake laughed, nudging Heeseung with his elbow. “This is my cousin. She’s the resident Grinch. But don’t worry; she’s fun when she wants to be.”

“I can hear you,” you gloated.

“I know,” he said, his grin widening. “So? Are you going to spend the whole night sipping champagne like a miserable bore?”

You gave him a flat look. “Oh my god. You can read minds?” you deadpanned.

“Well, perfect! You’re already dressed for the occasion,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely at your casual attire. He laughed but stopped when you didn’t even crack a smile. “Tell you what, Heeseung and I are heading out. You’re welcome to join us if you want to.”

“No.”

“Come on. It’s gonna be fun.” Before you could refuse again, Jake slung an arm around your shoulder and turned to Heeseung. “She’ll come. She just likes to play hard to get.”

“I really won’t,” you retorted, trying to shrug him off. “I don’t feel like tailing you two all night.”

“What else are you gonna do—sit in a corner and glare at people?”

You rolled your eyes, but the answer was obvious. Staying inside meant more questions, more relatives, more everything you were trying to avoid.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you drag me into something ridiculous—”

“You’ll have fun. Promise,” Jake interrupted and then turned to Heeseung. “She’s coming.”

Heeseung’s smile was easy, almost reassuring. “No pressure. It’ll be chill.”

You smirked. “You clearly don’t know Jake.”

With that, Jake led the way, practically bouncing out the door. You followed, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets as Heeseung fell into step beside you.

The winter air hit you like a slap, crisp and biting, slicing through the lingering scents of cinnamon and pine. It was a relief, though, clearing your head from the stifling warmth of the house. You walked down the quiet streets with Jake, Heeseung, and a few friends you used to hang out with growing up. They led the way, cracking jokes and tossing playful banter back and forth, while you stuck closer to the back with Heeseung.

“I can’t believe they’re still dating,” you muttered, eyeing a pair in front of you.

“Who? Them?” Heeseung asked, making you glance briefly at them.

You nodded. “They started dating when we were sophomores in high school. And they’re still together.”

Heeseung hummed. “They must really like each other then.”

You grimaced, eyeing the lovey-dovey couple in front. “I don’t know. They used to break up and make up. It was exhausting. Everyone thought they’d break up for good after graduation. But, well… here we are.”

“Guess they like running in circles,” Heeseung said lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glanced sideways at you. “What about you? Do you think people like that can actually work out?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if the question was casual or probing. “I think it depends on how much drama you can stomach. Personally, I’d rather avoid it altogether.”

Heeseung tilted his head thoughtfully. “No drama, huh? That’s a pretty high bar for relationships.”

You smirked, knowing how ironic it was for you to say this despite having a relationship drama. “Tell me about it,” you mumbled.

It was easy to figure out Heeseung’s intentions. The whole time, he didn’t try to hide it, nor did he try to send mixed signals. It was pretty clear with how close he was standing beside you, how his shoulder almost brushed yours. The way Heeseung’s eyes lingered on you when you spoke, the way he tilted his head when you laughed, like he was committing the sound to memory. How, even when you weren’t talking, he stayed within arm’s reach, his gaze flickering to you every now and then. How his focus remained on you.

And then there was the way he leaned in just slightly when he made a comment, his voice low, his words meant only for you.

He was attentive in a way that surprised you, even in the most casual moments. As you explained how you and your friends used to kill time in this sleepy town—late-night drives to the lookout point, sneaking snacks into the single-screen movie theater, racing bikes down the old dirt trail—Heeseung listened with genuine curiosity, his eyes lighting up with every story.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said when you were alone at the swings. You sat comfortably on the swing while he pushed you gently. “Not only did you race down a hill that sounds like a death trap, but you’re telling me you were the reigning champion?”

You tilted your head, feigning offense. “Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said, his smirk widening. “I’m just wondering how many people you bribed to throw the race.”

You gasped playfully. “Excuse me, I won fair and square.”

“Sure you did.” His laughter was low, warm, the kind that made you feel comfortable with him.

You smirked. “Why else would I bring it up? Go ask them.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “You seem really confident… I believe you.”

You were quiet for a while, with only the creaking sound of swing filling the silence. The tip of your shoes dragged lightly with every swing, carving the damp ground underneath.

Heeseung asked after the silence stretched out. “So, is that all you did for fun around here?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug. “Lame, huh?”

“Not at all. It’s simple but it has its charm,” he said softly, pausing as he held the swing tight to stop it. “It says a lot about you though.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Are you calling me charming?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice light but his gaze unwavering. “What would you do if I was?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends. Is this small-town charm talking, or do you actually mean it?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, aren’t you a smooth talker?” you teased, though your voice had softened, your usual sharpness dulled by the way Heeseung was looking at you.

He grinned, leaning just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “Only with the right company.”

You held his gaze. “Right company, huh?” you murmured, your heart thudding as you tilted your head, meeting his eyes.

He smiled faintly, his voice dipping lower. “You know I mean it.”

His gaze lingered on you, his head tilting ever so slightly as he leaned closer. You barely noticed the chill in the air anymore, not when the space between you seemed to shrink. His hand brushed the chain of the swing, his fingers close enough to graze yours. His breath mixed with yours, the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air filling the gap. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he leaned in, his focus entirely on you.

Your fingers twitched on the swing’s chain, almost brushing his. His lips hovered near yours now, and for a moment, everything else faded away—

“Yo, there you are!” Jake’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and completely unbothered.

You flinched, the spell breaking as you turned toward the sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel. Jake and the others were strolling toward you, their laughter cutting through the quiet.

Heeseung straightened quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, that’s too bad,” he murmured, his voice low enough just for you. “I thought we’d finally lost them.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, even as warmth lingered on your cheeks. “I didn’t know we were doing that.”

He shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes, so you swatted his chest lightly, the playfulness easing the tension.

Jake raised an eyebrow as he approached, his gaze flicking between you and Heeseung. “What, were you two having a moment or something?”

“Not even close,” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “What do you want?”

“Lori was asking if your mom baked a fruitcake this year,” he said, pointing toward your friend Lori.

You glanced at her, catching her expectant grin. “You know what,” you said, rising to your feet, “she did. You should grab some before it’s gone.”

Lori and the others cheered. Though your mom’s fruitcake wasn’t your favorite—too sweet for your taste—you still felt a swell of pride knowing it was the highlight of every Christmas. It was this pride that made you wanna bring them over, so with Jake leading your group, you headed back to your house, noisy and in high spirits.

Like opposite sides of magnets, you and Heeseung found each other again and fell behind the rest of the group. He leaned into your ear as he asked, “Are we gonna pick up where we left off?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Depends on how charming you are for the rest of the night.”

He held your gaze, his smile softening. “Challenge accepted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you let the confidence he’d drawn out of you take hold. “You’ve been following me all night. You like me, don’t you?”

Heeseung didn’t even bother denying it. His smile widened, his voice steady as he replied, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckled. “Don’t fall for me, though. I’d hate to break your heart once the holidays are over,” you told him, grinning playfully before walking faster to rejoin your friends.

Heeseung stayed back for a moment, watching you. Too late, he thought. You really should’ve warned him sooner.

“If this was a uni party, someone would’ve spiked the eggnog already,” you mumbled, your eyes scanning the room filled with family, friends, and all the usual holiday chaos.

Heeseung’s voice was low beside you, cutting through the noise. “Really?”

You nodded, not looking at him. “Oh yeah. If you want to survive the night here, you have to make your own fun.” You shot him a side glance, half-smiling. “Otherwise, it’s just... this.”

For a brief moment, Heeseung said nothing, but you could feel him shifting beside you. Then, in a voice laced with amusement and mischief, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Alarmed, you grabbed his arm and yanked him back before he could get too far. “No, Heeseung!”

He turned toward you, his grin dangerous. “What?”

“No, seriously,” you whispered urgently, trying to keep your voice down. You scanned the room quickly, then pointed across it with dramatic flair. “Old people.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed, clearly confused, so you leaned in just a little closer. “That’s my great-uncle,” you said, nodding toward an elderly man in a faded cardigan who was snoozing away in the rocking chair. “He’s 84 and can’t have alcohol. But he’s obsessed with eggnog. Let’s not ruin this for him.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh. “That’s not so Grinch of you.”

“I make exceptions for people I like,” you said, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

His smile deepened, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is that so?” he asked, teasing but warm. “What exceptions have you made for me so far?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile from widening. “I’m not answering that.”

“So there is something, then?”  He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, as if the answer were hidden in your response.

“I’m not answering that either.” You chuckled, taking a step back with an exaggerated sigh. You started heading toward the patio, but Heeseung’s long strides quickly caught up, his footsteps just behind you.

The cold night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the patio, but the firepit’s warmth immediately enveloped you. Your friends and cousins gathered around, roasting marshmallows and swapping stories. You sat on the same bench as Heeseung, his presence adding warmth and comfort. You joined the conversations with the others, while occasionally having your own little talks with Heeseung.

The more you talked, the closer he leaned toward you, his eyes never quite leaving your face as if he were soaking in everything you said. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the heat of both the fire and his proximity. 

As the night wore on, the laughter around the firepit thinned out, your companions dispersing one by one to retire for the night. Soon, it was just you, Heeseung, and Jake—both guys occupied with something on Jake’s phone. Left to your own devices, you scrolled aimlessly through social media, eventually landing on a friend’s Instagram story.

Yeonjun appeared in the group photo, looking happy and festive at what seemed like a rowdy party. You checked your inbox, hoping for a message, but he hadn’t even read the last one you’d sent. A sigh slipped from your lips louder than you intended, and Heeseung glanced up at you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as you quickly turned your screen off. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the cold and the alcohol, and his eyes looked a little sleepy from the late hour. The sight of him brought a comforting warmth to your chest.

“I’m fine,” you mouthed, holding his hand that rested on your arm.

Suddenly, Jake shot up from his seat with a sharp exhale. “Let’s get out of here. I’m about to lose it with this Mariah Carey song they’ve got on repeat.”

“You go ahead. I’m gonna stick around for a bit,” Heeseung replied, squeezing your arm before rubbing his thumb against your jacket.

Jake noticed your joined hands and narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “You guys are getting cozy.”

“Are we?” you teased, glancing at Heeseung and shrugging. You leaned against his chest playfully and added, “I hardly noticed.”

Heeseung played along, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. Jake shook his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re gonna have sex, don’t do it in our room.”

The comment made you roll your eyes. “This is my house, Jake. We can do it in my bedroom!”

Jake didn’t respond, only raised a middle finger at you two before walking away. You laughed, watching him disappear into the house. But beside you, Heeseung had stopped grinning, his expression shifting to something more serious, his eyes wide with shock.

You raised an eyebrow. “What? I was just joking.”

Heeseung blinked a few times, looking away as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” His voice was a little more strained, and you noticed a blush creeping up his neck.

You couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Did you think I was serious?” you asked, leaning in just a little closer.

Heeseung turned his head slightly, his eyes flickering toward you for a brief moment before he fixed his gaze on the fire. “Not at all,” he replied quickly.

“Oh? So you’re not interested?” you pressed, enjoying the sight of him flustered.

“I didn’t say that,” he responded too eagerly, too quickly.

The sudden shift in his tone caught you off guard. You hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully before you let out a soft laugh. “Okay,” you said, wanting to ease the tension. “I was just messing with you. Relax.”

Heeseung didn’t answer immediately, but you saw his posture stiffen, his hand slipping from your shoulder as he cleared his throat again. The air between you two felt thicker now, charged with something neither of you wanted to bring up.

You let the silence hang there for a few moments before turning to look at the house, your smile a little softer. “Anyway,” you muttered, standing up, “let’s get back inside.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything as he followed you, the air between you was thick with tension, but neither of you said much as you both walked toward the staircase leading up to the upper floors. It was past midnight. You had intended to hang out with him a bit more, but the night suddenly started to catch up with you after that awkward exchange with Heeseung.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. He clearly wanted you, at least based on how he’d been flirting with you all night and how you almost kissed at the playground earlier. And to be honest, you were entertaining the idea of a holiday fling with Heeseung. He was very attractive and he’d done nothing to raise any red flags so far. So why did the sudden sexual tension seem to make things awkward between you?

As you reached the hallway, you turned to him with a small smile. “Well, guess it’s time for me to call it a night,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Heeseung nodded, but there was something in his expression that suggested he wasn’t ready to say goodnight just yet. “Yeah… sure,” he replied, his eyes focused on you.

You both stopped in front of your door and there was a silence that stretched longer than either of you anticipated. When you reached for the doorknob, Heeseung didn’t say anything, though you could see the dejected look in his eyes that he failed to mask with the smile he was wearing.

“See you in the morning?” you suggested, offering him something to look forward to despite the seemingly disappointing end to the night. “That is, if you’re still here by then,” you added, a low key attempt at asking what his plans were for tomorrow.

Heeseung smiled warmly. “I might have volunteered to be tomorrow’s Santa Claus, so I think I’d still be here.”

You chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Are you serious?”

“No,” he chimed with a playful grin, reaching for your hand and brushing his fingers lightly across your skin.

The touch was so small, yet it felt electric. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes locked with yours, holding a silent intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You found yourself leaning in, just a little bit closer, your breath shallow.

“Heeseung, I—” you began, only to cut yourself off because you didn’t really know what you were gonna say. Or if you should even say anything at all.

But then you both understood without words. Your nerves seemed to settle, and without another sound, Heeseung leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours.

It was soft, almost questioning at first, but the moment it happened, everything else seemed to fade into the background. The lingering discomfort from the teasing, the unsaid words—everything disappeared. For that one exhilarating moment, there was nothing but the warmth of him against you.

When the kiss broke, you both stood there, breathless, eyes wide. You let out a nervous laugh, still trying to gather your thoughts. “That didn’t just happen,” you chuckled.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, his lips curling up into a small, almost sheepish smile. “Was that too fast?” he questioned playfully.

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really, but… let’s just pretend it didn’t happen,” you said, trying to play it cool, but your heart was still racing.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

You stood there for a whole minute, staring at each other in the quiet, with only the faint sound of Christmas carol from the living room filling the silence. “Good idea,” you echoed quietly, but your eyes were fixed on his lips, plump and inviting.

Before you knew it, you were kissing again, this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, the kind that made your knees a little weak. His hands settled gently on your waist, making you hyper aware of the way your bodies are pressed against each other. For a moment, you let yourself forget about everything else—the holiday chaos, your family, Yeonjun.

When he pulled back slightly, his gaze was intense, searching yours. “You good?” he rasped, his breath warm against your face.

“Totally,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You kicked your bedroom door open, tugging him inside without breaking the kiss. In no time, you found your back pressed against the wall right by the door, Heeseung’s lips ravaging yours with a kiss that made you go feral.

When his hand slipped under your shirt, you held it tightly, debating whether to let him go there—caught between wanting to retreat and wanting to give in. As your hesitation stretched, Heeseung took it as his cue to pull away—not completely, just enough to press his forehead against yours and cup your cheeks

“Is that a ‘no’?” he whispered, his voice laced with playful warmth.

You chuckled, still a little drunk on his lips—on him. “Are you hurt?” you asked playfully, though your concern was sincere. “Your ego, I mean.”

“Hmm, not really,” he replied, shivering under your touch when your hand ran from his arm to his neck. “I’m more hurt somewhere else.”

That made you laugh and hit his chest playfully. Heeseung caught your hand, keeping it on his chest as he closed his eyes—forehead still pressed against, his breathing steady but deep, his lips lifted slightly in a faint smile.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips and took a small step back. “Aren’t you leaving?”

Heeseung clutched his chest, feigning a pained look. “Ouch. I’m getting kicked out too? This is torture.”

The sound of Christmas carols from the living room filtered through the door, a reminder of the world just outside, but neither of you seemed in a rush to leave. Heeseung looked around your dimly lit bedroom, studying the space as if familiarizing himself.

“I don’t want to push my luck,” he said, his voice low as he glanced back at you. “But this is much cozier than the guest room I’m sharing with Jake.”

You smirked, catching the insinuation in his statement. “It’s a no, Heeseung.”

Heeseung winced visibly. “Is that final?” he asked, making you chuckle.

“We only just met.”

He shrugged, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s fair. It was worth a shot, though.”

You had to admit, you considered it. Just the idea of being in Heeseung’s arms stirred something inside you. A feeling that, if you were being honest, you weren’t expecting to feel at all when you boarded the train home for the holidays. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the loneliness of the night creeping in, but right now, you felt more alive than you had in weeks.

Heeseung tilted your chin, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips once more. “Good night?”

“Good night,” you chimed, holding his hand against your cheek.

But he made no move to leave, he just stood there, staring at you as if it would physically pain him to look away. Then he leaned in for another kiss, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he teased, forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully, though your smile was soft, just a little more sincere now.

The next morning, breakfast unfolded in a much quieter manner than last night’s festivities with everyone still half-asleep and quietly eating. Across the table, Heeseung seemed perfectly at ease, though you couldn’t ignore the occasional glance he sent your way—or how your gaze sometimes lingered on him longer than it should.

Your mom’s attention was on him, which was understandable since he was the only new face around the dining table. Your mom said she didn’t get the chance to properly get to know him because yesterday was hectic. Heeseung didn’t seem to mind, he was polite and spoke with courteousness and a charming demeanor. 

“So, Heeseung,” your mom began to add as she reached for another piece of toast, her tone light but curious. “How do you know Jake?”

You smirked, glancing at your cousin. “Yeah. You seem too cool to be hanging out with this dork.”

Heeseung glanced at Jake, who was already sighing as if he knew what story Heeseung was going to tell. “We met during our first year,” Heeseung said, chuckling. “It was a… uh. Freshman prank.”

“Freshman prank?” your dad asked.

Heeseung hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story, but basically we fell victim to a freshman prank and ended up getting scolded by the college dean.”

“Oh my god! Jake said he was scolded by the dean for dancing around the school grounds in a bear costume. Was that it?” one of your cousins asked.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, his laugh a little sheepish. “It was actually the school mascot suit. They asked us to wear them at a freshman event for extra credit. Then we found out in the end that it was a faculty briefing, not a freshman event.”

Jake exhaled, exasperated by the memory. “ We even danced without knowing our mascot heads were switched. I was a lion with a bear head.”

Your mom laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, that’s one way to make a friend.”

“And now you’re stuck with him,” you teased, looking at Heeseung.

“Pretty much,” Heeseung agreed, his gaze flicking to you with a warm smile. “But hey, life’s never boring with Jake around.”

You smirked. “You’re too kind. Just say he’s an idiot. He doesn’t mind.”

Jake waved his fork in the air, scoffing at you. “Joke’s on you. Heeseung would never say that about me.”

Heeseung shrugged. “Well, he’s kind of… an idiot.”

Jake gasped. “What have you done to my friend?” he accused dramatically, pointing a finger at you.

The conversation soon shifted from playful banter to lighter topics as the meal wound down. You mostly stayed quiet, stealing occasional glances at Heeseung, who somehow managed to charm your family without even trying. When breakfast ended, your mom handed you a towel. “You’re on dish duty today,” she said with a kind smile.

Heeseung stood without hesitation. “I’ll help.”

“Very gallant of you,” your mom quipped, her tone amused as she watched you carry the dishes away.

When your family was out of earshot, Heeseung leaned in close, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Figured I’d earn some points.”

You chuckled, shaking your head but not protesting as he followed you into the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves with ease, taking the stack of plates from your hands and grinning like this was second nature to him. The two of you fell into a quiet rhythm at the sink, you rinsing while he dried.

“So,” he began after a moment, breaking the silence with his usual casual tone. “Your mom’s cool. Super curious, though.”

You snorted. “That’s her way of being welcoming. Consider yourself officially part of the family.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Guess that means I have to stick around,” he added, bumping his elbow against your arm.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing the playful hint. “Only as Jake’s friend, though.”

“What do you know? She might upgrade me to Son-in-Law once she sees my dish-drying technique,” he quipped, his shoulder brushing yours as he reached for a dish and started wiping with exaggerated flourishes.

“Son-in-Law is a pretty big leap from Nephew’s College Friend.”

He grinned with mock confidence. “I’m Lee Heeseung. Anything’s possible.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Golden Boy.”

“You’ve got a pretty lively family,” Heeseung said after a pause, his tone softening. “They remind me of mine.”

“Oh, yeah?” You glanced at him, curious. “Big Christmas crowd?”

“Not as big as yours, but yeah. We do the whole chaos thing. My mom insists on playing charades after dinner, even though none of us can act to save our lives.”

You chuckled at the image, your hand brushing his as you passed him a plate. The touch lingered for half a second too long, enough to make your heart skip a beat. When you looked at him, Heeseung was already watching you, his voice dropping to something quieter as he leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“By the way, you look lovely this morning.”

The compliment hit harder than it should’ve, leaving you momentarily flustered. You managed to play it off with a teasing smile. “Trying to earn more points?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, leaning just a fraction closer.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning slightly closer. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

His soft laughter warmed the kitchen, the hum of last night’s lingering tension sparking again between you. By the time you handed him the final dish, there were no more “accidental” brushes—Heeseung took your hand outright, pulling you gently forward to steal a quick, mischievous kiss.

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as you slapped his arm. “You sneaky little—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in again, catching you in another kiss, quick and light, as if testing the waters. Then he turned back to the towel like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, your thoughts a flustered jumble.

Exhaling a mock exasperated sigh, you gave up on playing it cool. Closing the small gap between you, you slipped your arms around his waist, letting your cheek rest briefly against his shoulder as he put the last plate away.

“This is nice,” he murmured, discarding the towel and turning to face you. His arms wrapped around you naturally, pulling you close. “Makes us look like boyfriend and girlfriend, doesn’t it?”

You scoffed, stepping back slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

But when you turned to leave, Heeseung caught your wrist, pulling you back into a tight embrace. “Where are you going? Stay.”

You hesitated for half a second, then melted into his hold, your hands settling lightly on his waist. “What are we even doing?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting his chin lightly against your hair. “But it’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It kinda is.”

The moment was broken by the faint sound of singing from the direction of the main door. Heeseung’s brows rose as he glanced toward the sound. “Carolers?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away and jogging toward the door. Outside, a small group of children and teenagers stood assembled like a festive choir, their voices harmonizing in cheerful Christmas melodies. Your family was already out there, listening with smiles on their faces.

Jake noticed you standing beside him and leaned in. “Tell me why I can’t punch the carolers.”

You snorted. “Because it’s not their fault you didn’t pass the auditions.”

“Right,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, what? You auditioned for this?” Heeseung asked, his expression bewildered.

Jake smirked, unbothered by the attention. “I’m a man of many talents, my friend. They fumbled real bad when they decided to reject me.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, exasperated. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Christmas morning chaos, as always.

The rest of the day unfolded in a series of warm, chaotic moments. After the carolers left, your family gathered in the living room, eager to keep the festive spirit alive.

Someone—probably Jake—suggested a game of charades. It started out as a reluctant group activity but quickly spiraled into uncontrollable laughter as your aunt wildly flailed her arms trying to mimic Jaws, and your dad confused everyone by acting out Titanic with interpretive dance.

Heeseung fit right in, his easy humor making him an absolute hit. He was surprisingly good at charades, though you suspected he was just adept at playing to the crowd. When it was your turn to act, he leaned over to Jake and whispered something that had both of them laughing under their breath—probably a jab at your complete lack of acting skills. You shot them a mock glare, but it only made Heeseung grin wider.

When the game wound down, your mom announced it was time for gifts. You handed your parents the small, thoughtful presents you’d prepared—a new mug for your dad’s coffee addiction, and a scarf you’d crocheted for your mom.

“You shouldn’t have,” your mom said with a soft smile, wrapping the scarf around her neck immediately.

Others exchanged gifts, too, and to your surprise, a few came your way: a box of chocolates from your aunt, fuzzy socks from Jake, and a cute notebook from a younger cousin. You hadn’t expected anything from anyone other than your parents, so it warmed you more than you cared to admit.

Heeseung, meanwhile, didn’t seem fazed by the lack of a gift exchange between the two of you. Instead, as the wrapping paper chaos settled, he nudged your arm.

“Guess we forgot to plan this part, huh?” he said, his tone light but his eyes searching yours.

“Yeah, well,” you replied, shrugging, “we didn’t exactly have time for shopping.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, thoughtful. Then his face lit up with an idea. “How about we exchange something else?”

“Like what?” you asked, curious.

He reached for his phone, pulling up a playlist. “Music,” he said simply. “I’ll share a song I love, and you do the same. It’s like a tiny window into who we are.”

You hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Okay. You first.”

He scrolled through his playlist before handing you one of his airpods. The track was a mellow, soulful tune with heartfelt lyrics, and as it played, you found yourself surprised at how much it suited him—genuine, unpretentious, and quietly warm.

“I like it,” you admitted, handing the phone back.

“Your turn,” he said, leaning closer as if to make sure he wouldn’t miss a beat.

You picked something a little more upbeat but with a nostalgic edge. The second it started, Heeseung grinned, nodding along to the rhythm. “Good choice. I can see why you like it.”

For the rest of the evening, the two of you exchanged little pieces of yourselves—stories, favorite movies, quirks. It wasn’t the traditional gift exchange, but it felt like something better, something that fit the budding connection between you.

Later, as the family settled down for a Christmas movie, Heeseung ended up beside you on the couch. The warmth of him sitting close felt comforting, and somewhere in the middle of Love Actually, his hand found yours under the blanket draped over your laps. It wasn’t showy or obvious; no one else noticed.

As the movie played on, you felt your phone buzzing on your lap. You picked it up in a heartbeat, a force of habit that made you feel a little pathetic. Letting out a sigh, you tucked your phone away, refusing to check what the notification was about—or who it was from.

Heeseung leaned closer, his voice low but curious. “Who is he?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The guy,” he clarified. “The one who keeps making you wait for him.”

You chuckled nervously. “There is no guy.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. You sighed. “Fine. There is—was, actually. I think I’m done waiting for him.”

“Why is that?”

You tilted your head slightly, taking a very good look at the beautiful man before you. A smile crept across your lips. Why, he asked? It was because you met him—Lee Heeseung, who wanted you and made it clear. Heeseung, who gave you signals and acted on them. Heeseung, who not only spoke honestly about how much he liked you but also went out of his way to show it. Heeseung, who gave you more in two days than Yeonjun had in three months.

“You staring at me like that is making me wanna kiss you right now,” Heeseung said softly, cutting through your reverie.

You grinned. “Do it then.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips brushed yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Across from you, Jake grimaced, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Guys. Just get a room already.”

You pulled back, laughing, your cheeks warm with embarrassment. Heeseung didn’t seem fazed, his smirk playful as he leaned closer, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Ignore him,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You giggled, the giddiness bubbling up despite yourself. “He’s right, though,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “We should probably get a room.”

Heeseung’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Okay,” he said, as if it was the easiest decision in the world. “I’d never say no to that.”

Jake let out another theatrical groan from across the room, muttering something about needing bleach for his eyes. But neither of you paid him any attention as you shared a knowing glance, the warmth between you now impossible to ignore.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you and Heeseung slipped out of the living room to the quiet halls upstairs. The muffled sounds of the movie still playing below faded with every step. Heeseung stayed close, his hand brushing yours until he tugged you gently back, spinning you to face him.

“Come here,” he murmured, stealing another kiss, his lips warm against yours.

You giggled, pulling away just enough to tease him. “Have some restraint, will you?”

He grinned, leaning in to whisper in your ear, his voice low and mischievous. “That’s too much to ask of me, you know?”

Your laughter filled the empty corridor as you took a step back, only for Heeseung to chase after you. His hands found your waist, pulling you close before kissing you again, slower this time, his lips lingering like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you reached your bedroom door, your cheeks ached from smiling, and your heart was racing. You kissed him there, leaning against the doorframe, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands rested firmly on your hips. The kiss deepened, heat building between you as your breath hitched.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both freeze. You pulled apart to see your old uncle shuffling past, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing as he continued down the hall.

Heeseung pressed his forehead against yours, biting back a laugh. “Think he’ll tell your mom?”

You snorted, pushing him lightly. “Does it matter? Bet everyone knows there’s something between us by now.”

“Touche.”

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

His kiss was unhurried, deliberate—gentle hands cradling your face as his lips moved against yours. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath hitch. His touch trailed to your chin, guiding your head slightly as his lips pressed softly along your jaw.

You tilted your head instinctively, granting him access, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His kisses wandered down to your neck—soft brushes, playful nips, and teasingly light touches. Each one sent sparks skittering across your skin, your pulse quickening under his attention.

When his tongue flicked against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, you giggled, stepping back slightly. The sound was as much a reaction to the ticklish sensation as it was to the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Sorry,” he said, his warm laugh brushing against your skin. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” you admitted, brushing your hair aside to bare your neck again. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

His fingers lightly traced the column of your neck. “Why not?”

“I’m… ticklish,” you said shyly, rolling your eyes to downplay your embarrassment.

Heeseung chuckled, the sound rich and low, sending butterflies racing in your stomach. His smile softened as he leaned in, teasing, “Noted.”

You sighed dramatically, unable to keep the playful glint out of your eyes. “Did we come up here just so you could tease me like this, or…?”

His eyes narrowed, his expression turning mock-exasperated. “Dude, why are you ruining the moment?” he asked, pulling you by the nape of your neck for another kiss. A deep one—heated, fervent, intoxicating, leaving you heady and utterly captivated.

Carefully, he lowered you down the bed, his lips not leaving yours. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt off and tossed it aside, pausing to marvel at your body. You could see the desire in his eyes—clear and unadulterated.

“Well? Don’t just stand there and stare,” you whined cutely, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment but trying to keep your composure.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, crawling on the bed to kiss you again. “Can’t help it.”

His lips traveled the length of your neck and collarbone, nipping and sucking, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. With his mouth, he traced the line between your breasts, down to your stomach, until he reached your navel. Heeseung didn’t stop there. He undid your jeans and tugged it down before pressing his nose on your sex and taking a long sniff.

“Heeseung,” you whispered, the pressure from his nose making your body burn with anticipation. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing your underwear aside and licking a stripe at the pooling wetness between your legs. He continued with expertise, making you writhe and moan in ecstasy. You tried to close your legs when the stimulation became too much, but Heeseung’s grasp of your thighs were tight, prying your legs open so he could continue what he came to do. All you could do was whimper and grab a handful of his hair. 

Your mind was screaming for him to stop, but your mouth could only utter his name as your hips bucked forward, eager for more.

Then he suddenly stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He came back up, hovering over you with a proud smile on his face. You thought he was done but before you could utter a word, two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, making you gasp.

Heeseung didn’t say anything, he just grinned wider, seemingly proud of how good he was making you feel. His fingers slid in and out in a steady pace, growing more rapid and urgent the more he saw your face contorting with pleasure and euphoria. 

“Yes!” you exclaimed, your back arching as you felt the familiar knot in your belly. “Don’t stop!”

And then came a euphoric wave engulfing your entire being. You froze for a moment, your mouth gaping open as you relished the momentary high that washed over you. Heeseung’s fingers were still inside you as he kissed your forehead.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he lilted before capturing your lips in a fervent kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you met his kiss with a hunger that bordered on desperation.  Everything else faded, and before you knew it, the two of you were naked on the bed, moving together like it was the only thing that mattered.

The air was thick with the sounds of your shared passion—your breathless moans, his deep groans, and the unmistakable sound of skin slamming against skin. Heeseung was a perfect fit, his every thrust reaching a depth that had spiraling into an irrational desire for more. More, as though he hadn’t already completely consumed you.

Your fingers dug into his back, your grip tightening with every surge of pleasure. When he pinned your wrists above your head, your body arched instinctively, your hands grasping at the sheets as you gasped for him to keep going.  When his teeth grazed the sensitive curve of your neck, your entire body lit up, every nerve alive with overwhelming pleasure. And when he murmured your name, his voice rough and breathless, it was enough to push you closer to the edge, leaving you lost in a desperate, dizzying need for him.

Heeseung was a vice. He unraveled you, body and mind, until nothing existed but the maddening ache of him and the desperate, spiraling desire to never let this moment end.

“Oh, Heeseung.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asked in a low, deep and raspy voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Harder, Hee. Please.” you cried out, not even caring to hide how needy you were.

“Shit,” he grunted, spurred on by the need in your voice. “You’re so...” 

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead, he kissed your lips and picked up his pace. Rocking with more force and intensity. Drilling deeper with every thrust. Fucking you senseless until you were crying out his name and begging him not to stop.

The knot in your core coiled tighter with every thrust, your body trembling beneath him as you clung to the last shreds of control. His movements grew more frantic, each one sending shockwaves through you that built higher and higher.

“Heeseung,” you gasped, your nails dragging down his back as the heat between you burned hotter. He groaned in response, low and guttural, the sound sending you further into overdrive.

When his mouth trailed down, teeth grazing your nipple just right, your world seemed to have shattered. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out, completely undone. He followed moments later, a broken sound leaving his lips as he buried himself deeper, his own release spilling into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both catching your breaths with your foreheads pressed together. The world slowly shifted into focus, the haze of what had happened between you lingered in the air as you found yourself coming back down from what had felt like an incomparable high. Soon though, the weight of his body pressing against yours made breathing slightly harder. 

You gave him a gentle nudge, your voice soft. “Heeseung, you’re heavy.”

He grinned, rolling onto the bed beside you with a contented sigh. “Better?” 

You nodded, meeting his gaze as he brushed a few stray hairs from your face. “You okay?” he asked, his tone quiet but sure.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “You?”

Heeseung’s smile widened. “Never better.”

Before you could think of something clever to say, he leaned in, his lips grazing yours in a way that made your heart flutter all over again. The two of you stayed like that for a while, stealing quiet, intimate moments in the privacy of your bedroom. Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

When you finally slipped back into the hallway, your cheeks were still warm, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Heeseung stayed close, his shoulder brushing against yours as you rejoined your family in the living room.

For the rest of the day, his presence was a constant. Whether he was cracking jokes with Jake or leaning in to share a private comment that made you laugh, it felt like he’d completely settled into your orbit—and you didn’t mind.

It didn’t take long for everyone else in the house to notice your growing closeness with Heeseung. Your cousins teased you relentlessly, joking that Heeseung was the Christmas Miracle who made you shed your Grinch fur. Even your parents joined in.

“Had I known all it would take for you to stop grimacing every year on Christmas was a boyfriend,” your dad quipped, “I would’ve asked your mom to set you up on blind dates ages ago.”

“Ew, Dad. That’s so lame,” you replied with a grimace, though a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. For years, they’d put up with your reluctance to embrace the holiday spirit, and it hadn’t been fair to them.

Later, while Heeseung was off chatting with your cousins, your mom quietly pulled you aside. “I like him,” she said with a knowing smile. “He seems like a really sweet guy.”

“He is,” you admitted softly, hesitating. “But we don’t know much about each other. This is probably just… some temporary holiday fling.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, sometimes those ‘temporary’ things surprise you. It’s just nice to see you happy.”

Her words replayed in your head, even as the evening unfolded into more teasing, laughter, and the occasional stolen glances between you and Heeseung. It felt effortless, the way he was seamlessly pulled into your family’s fold—laughing with your cousins, charming your parents, and somehow always finding his way back to your side.

At one point, as you leaned against the porch railing, your gaze wandering to the clear night sky, Heeseung appeared at your side. His hand brushed yours before his fingers slipped between them, the motion casual but deliberate.

“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“And go where?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Anywhere,” he said with a crooked smile, hazy with the warmth of the evening—or maybe just you. “I just wanna be alone with you.”

You didn’t even have time to answer before Jake, lounging on the couch nearby, cut in with exaggerated indignation. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he sighed.

“But now that it is happening, I guess all I can say is fuck you guys and please get out of my sight,” Jake added, rolling his eyes. “You have no respect for the single loners hanging out with you, did you know that?”

You snickered. “This is why you bring your girlfriend home for the holidays, not a hot friend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jake retorted, crossing his arms.

“And whose fault is that?” you teased with a grin.

Jake shot you a pointed look. “Don’t act so smug. You’ve been a Christmas Grinch for years. I’m not taking any advice from you.”

“Fair,” you admitted with a shrug, wanting so much to keep taunting him but deciding against it because he was right.

Your cousin cut in from across the room. “Jake, when did you say you were leaving again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied.

“Already?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he continued, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction. “We have a New Year event at uni. Heeseung’s needed for some important technical stuff. And me? Well, they need me for my invaluable presence.”

The chatter around you faded into the background as Heeseung tugged you closer. “You should come see it,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with intention.

You tilted your head, curious. “Is it fun?”

“I hope so,” he said with a small, crooked smile. “If it’s not, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

You giggled when he kissed the side of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, for starters…” He paused, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered in a voice full of promise, “I’ll take you somewhere private and show you a really good time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Lame,” you quipped, pushing his face away.

Heeseung threw his head back laughing. “Okay. I’ll try to come up with something better.”

And just like that, the night became a blur of moments—each one filled with laughter, teasing, and kisses that were never fully explained, only given and received with a kind of sweetness that felt both comforting and thrilling.

It happened again. And again. The gentle pull of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way he always found a way to stand just a little too close. By the time the night had fully settled into the quiet of the late hours, the two of you were tangled up in your bedroom again, tipsy, comfortable, and perhaps a little too far gone to really care about the next morning.

The train ride back to the city was as mundane as ever, but there was a sense of excitement buzzing in the air this time around. You sat back comfortable, looking out the window at the snowy landscape that blurred past. The past few days felt like a dream, a Christmas full of laughter, teasing, and beautiful moments with Heeseung. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you from your thoughts.

Heeseung: See you Wednesday?

You smiled to yourself, the memories of the past few days flooding back—his easy laughter, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and the way his touch always seemed to leave a mark on your skin. It had all gone by so quickly, but in the best way possible. Everything had felt easy, comfortable, and natural in a way you hadn’t expected.

The holiday season had come to an end, but what you’d shared with Heeseung was just starting to unfold. There was something about it that felt like fate, or maybe just the simple truth that it was time for you to stop waiting for something that had no guarantee would ever happen.

You quickly typed your reply, your fingers moving almost instinctively.

You: Can’t wait.

When you hit send, you leaned back into the seat, letting the train’s rhythm settle the buzz in your busy mind. The thought of seeing him again made your chest tighten in the most pleasant way.

You couldn’t wait for Wednesday. For fuck’s sake, you couldn’t wait for the New Year.

[fin]

[prettyfilmz]

PHYSICAL TOUCH • JEY USO

authors note: we have officially made it to the end of the love language series. thank you all so much for the support I have gained, it really means the world to me that you all love what i write and knowing some of my favorite authors on here love it too. sorry for taking so damn long to update, school has been kicking your girl's ass and I was really finding it hard to write during it all. but alas we made it!! I decided to end this series the same way I started it...with my baby jey uso. you are in for a treat with this one as this is the longest one shot i've written in the series🤭 well, don't let me keep you too long. without further a due, happy reading my loves and once again thank you💗🎀 p.s. jey looks so sexy with his red and black gear for survivor series🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

summary: jey don't wanna be "just a friend" to you anymore.

tags: 18+ (MDNI), written with black woman in mind, friends who really like each other, smoking, fluff, jey is obsessed with you, dirty talk, unprotected sex, car sex, kissing, biting (slight), small bits of roughness, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink,praise, this is goofy lovey dovey shit x10000.

word count: 2.7k words

now playing: red light special - tlc

it’s midnight. the air is crisp with the cool breath of late november, cool enough to give goosebumps but still not enough to bite.  you’re sitting low in the passenger seat of jey’s sleek black charger, legs crossed and dipped in the glow of the dashboard lights.  the subtle scent of ‘black ice’ air freshener mixes well with the slow haze of smoke curling from the joint between your fingers.

jey is sitting easy in his driver’s seat, one hand draped on the wheel, the other arm resting along the back of your seat, fingers casually brushing your shoulder.  his signature chain glints in the dim light from the street lamps as they pass, the soft rumble of the car’s engine making everything feel muted, more… intimate.

you exhale a slow, lazy stream of smoke out the cracked window, watching the way the city lights smear into streaks as the charger cruises down an empty street. a gentle r&b song played low in the speakers, its lyrics matching the faint thrum of tension hanging between the two of you.

“you gon’ pass that or hold it hostage, mama?” jey’s voice cuts through the thick quiet, low and teasing, making heat spark low in your belly.

you glance at him through your lashes, lips quirking into a small smirk.  “why? you need it more than me, greedy?”

he leans over slightly, closing the gap between you, his face a little too close, soft brown eyes locked on yours.  “oh I need somethin’, alright.” his grin is sharp but playful, that familiar flirtation slipping from his lips as easy as breathing.

you roll your eyes, even though a shiver crawls down your spine.  you flick the joint between your fingers, teasing, before finally passing it to him.  his fingertips graze yours when he takes it, the brief touch buzzing through you like a shock of electricity.

the air in the car shifts, as it always does when it’s just the two of you, hovering somewhere between platonic and dangerous.  it’s always been like this for years—friends who flirt too much, share too much, maybe fuck love each other too much.  it got complicated when you started seeing someone else, tried to shut that part of you down.  but now that’s over, and things have been creeping back to where they were.  no labels, just...  whatever this is.

jey takes a slow pull from the joint, his gaze never leaving you.  his lips wrap around it just so, and you hate how your thighs press together on instinct, an action he catches easily.

he smirks as he exhales, letting the smoke drift lazily out the window.  “missed this, you know.  just me and you. you ain't gotta act all tough around me, honey.”

your heart stumbles a little at the softness in his voice, but you keep your cool, leaning back against your seat like his words didn’t hit as deep as they did.  “you're getting soft on me,” you tease, smirking.

jey chuckles in return, shaking his head as he taps ash from the joint.  “yeah, yeah. but you love that shit, don't lie." his hand slides from the back of your seat to rest on your thigh, heavy and warm, thumb brushing idly over the curve just below your skirt.  the touch is familiar, claiming, like he’s always known you’d end up right back here.

you don't attempt to move his hand. instead, you settle into the weight of it, the warmth of his large palm massaging your skin,  biting your bottom lip to hide the little smile threatening to creep across your face. he’s watching you too close, like he is reading all of your thoughts.  and maybe he is—jey’s always known how to read you well with just a look.

he leans a little closer again, voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that always gets you into trouble.  “come here.”

you glance at him, the warmth in your chest spreading fast, and you know where this is headed.  you could pretend you don’t.  you could play coy.  but you don’t want to. not with him. not tonight.

instead, you lean in, and jey meets you halfway, his lips brushing yours once, twice, before he kisses you properly.  it's slow and deliberate, a kiss that feels like a reminder—like he’s been waiting for this, waiting for you.

his hand tightens on your thigh, and you sigh against his mouth, your lips parting for him, his tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss until you’re clinging to the front of his hoodie, breathing him in like the smoke lingering in the car.

he pulls back just enough to press his forehead to yours, both of you catching your breath.  his hand drifts higher on your thigh, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt with ease.  “I ever tell you how bad I missed you, baby?”

you hum, tilting your head to nip gently at his bottom lip.  “maybe? it would be better if you show me. ”

jey groans low in his throat, his hand leaving your thigh to grab the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss—hungrier this time, all teeth and tongue. his free hand grips your thigh again, fingers digging into your skin.

he breaks the kiss to drag his lips down your neck, biting gently at the spot just beneath your ear that always makes you purr.  you gasp, arching against him, and he chuckles against your skin, his voice low and wrecked.  “that’s it, mama. I got you.”

your mind is already hazy, inebriated in the way his hands and mouth paint your body like a canvas, but it’s just the foreplay.  his fingers trail higher, brushing the edge of your panties, and you shiver, your breath stuttering out in a soft moan.

“you want this?” he murmurs against your neck, his thumb slipping beneath the damp fabric to tease you.  “words, baby.”

“yeah,” you breathe, barely able to form the word.  “please, jey.”

he grins against your skin, kissing you again as his fingers slip between your thighs, parting your lower lips easily. he groans softly at how wet you are, dragging his fingers through your slick folds with a slow, deliberate touch that makes your head fall back against the seat.

“look at you,” he mutters, voice thick with praise.  “so fuckin’ wet for me and I ain’ even taste her yet.”

you whimper, hips bucking against his hand, and he chuckles low in his throat, loving how desperate you are for him.

“you gon’ let me taste her, mama?” he asks, already pulling back enough to maneuver between your legs, carefully leaning over the gear shift so he’s fully in your space.

you don’t even have time to respond before he’s tugging your skirt and panties down, throwing them carelessly into the back seat.  his hands are on your thighs, spreading you wide, your pussy exposed, and glistening for his eyes only.

jey doesn’t hesitate. he dives in, tongue skillfully dragging through your silky folds with a hunger that leaves you breathless, thighs trembling. he eats you like your pussy is the lifeline that is keeping him alive, switching between sucking your clit and fucking your tight quivering hole with his tongue, the sounds are lewd and obscene which only heightens the pleasure for you two.

“s-hit,” you moan, fingers tangling in his hair as your hips grind your cunt against his mouth. he groans in response, the vibration of it making you cry out, the pressure building fast and sharp between your thighs.

“that's it sweetheart,” he murmurs between licks, his voice dripping with praise.  “you taste so sweet, baby. missed this pussy so much.”

you’re close—so close you can feel the knot tightening in your abdomen. your thighs clamp around his head, sputtering expletives and jey doesn’t let up, gripping your hips to keep you right where he wants you.

“come on, mama,” he urges, voice rough and low against you. “make a mess on me.”

that’s all it takes. your orgasm crashes over you, and you cry, back arching as you ride the wave of pleasure, jey holding you through it, his tongue relentless against your clit until you’re shaking, begging him to stop.

but he doesn’t.  he grins up at you, wicked and smug, and keeps going, sending you spiraling into another orgasm before you can even catch your breath.

“j-jey! w..wa-ait” you gasp, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your body shakes with overstimulation.

“shhh, I got you,” he soothes, but his grin says otherwise—more like he loves seeing you fall apart for him, that he’s the only one who can make you feel like this.

and when he finally pulls back, lips and beard glistening with your juices, he leans in close, brushing his mouth against yours.

“you good, baby?” he asks, soft and playful, like he wasn’t worshipping you in between your thighs moments earlier.

all you could do is nod, breathless, and he kisses you again, allowing you to taste the sweet tanginess of yourself on his lips and tongue.

jey pulls back from the kiss, eyes heavy-lidded, but that cocky  grin of his never fades. he leans back in the driver’s seat, hands casually resting on the curve of your thighs, spreading them just enough to tease you with his gaze.  the warmth of your release is still causing your pussy to throb, but it’s not enough to fully satiate your lust. and with the way jey is gazes at you, he knows it too.

“come here, mama," jey murmurs, giving your thigh a quick slap. 

with a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, you shift over the console and climb into his lap.  you’re grateful for the roomy interior of the charger as you straddle him, thighs bracketing his hips.  he leans back, hands already roaming up your waist, under your top, squeezing at the soft globes of your breasts like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you.

“you comfy, baby?” he teases, palms pressing into your ass, grinding your bare pussy down against the thick bulge in his sweats. the friction makes both of you groan, and you can’t help the way your body moves on its own, rolling your hips against him.

jey bites his bottom lip, eyes locked on where you grind against him, the wet drag of your pussy staining the fabric of his sweats.  “fuck," he mutters, head falling back against the seat.  “you gon’ ride me just like that?  huh, baby?  make a mess all over me?"

you grin, the pressured heat between your legs building again.  “you always did like it messy.”

his fingers dig into your hips as he presses himself up against you, just enough to make you gasp.  “you know I like you,” he says, voice rough.  “always did."

the words hit you deep—more than they should—and for a second, the weight of them hangs in the air between you.  but you’re not here to talk about feelings, and jey knows it too.

he shifts under you, hand slipping down to stroke himself through his sweats.  “c’mon, baby.  take care of daddy.”

you slide a hand between your bodies, finding the waistband of his sweats and boxers, tugging them down just enough to free him. his cock springs free, thick and already leaking precum, and the sight of it causes you to slightly drool.  you wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly, teasing, loving the way his breath stutters beneath you.

“damn, mama,” he groans, his grip tightening on your hips.  “you tryna kill me?”

you smile mischievously.  “maybe.” but you don’t play around with him—this isn’t about teasing, not tonight.

you lift yourself up, lining him up with your entrance, and he watches you with brown, half-lidded eyes, pink lips parted as he waits for you to sink down on him.  and when you do, the pleasurable stretch steals both of your breaths.

“fuck, baby,” jey groans, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as you take him inch by inch, slow and deliberate.  “that’s it...fuckin' perfect. you always take me so good, mama."

the praise hits you like a drug, making you moan as you bottom out, his cock buried deep inside you. you pause for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, and jey's hands roam your body like he can’t get enough of you—palming your ass, squeezing your waist, his thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts under your top.

“look at you," he murmurs, voice thick and filled with something dangerously close to awe. “this pussy was made just for me, huh?"

you roll your hips, slow and deliberate, grinding down on him until he curses under his breath, head falling back against the seat again.  “uh huh,” you whisper, leaning in close to kiss behind his ear, sucking on the lobe.  “all yours, daddy.”

the growl that rumbles from his chest is damn near primal. his hands grip your hips hard, guiding you into a rhythm that’s slow and heavenly, each roll of your hips dragging him deeper into you. the air between you is thick with heat, every breath shared, every moan swallowed by the other’s mouth as you kiss again, messy and uncoordinated.

“that’s it, baby," he groans, breaking the kiss to suck a mark into your neck.  “fuck yourself on me. just like that. good fucking girl.”

you gasp as his teeth graze your skin, the sharp sensation shooting straight to your swollen clit. as if he can read your body, his hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with expert precision, circling it in time with the roll of your hips.

“cum for me again, mama,” he murmurs, voice low and coaxing.  “lemme feel you cum on this dick.”

you can’t hold back—not with the way he’s filling you so perfectly, not with the way his thumb works your clit like it’s second nature, and certainly not with how the head of his cock presses deliciously against your g spot. your orgasm hits you fast and hard, your whole body tensing as you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as you gush all over him.

“that’s my good girl," jey groans, grinding up into you as your warm gummy walls clamp down around him.  “makin’ a mess all over this dick.”

you’re still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax when jey’s grip on your hips tightens, and suddenly he’s fucking up into you, chasing his own release with rough, desperate thrusts causing you to whine.

“uh uh, take it, baby,” he growls through gritted teeth, hands locked on your hips as he drives into you, relishing in your choked sobs.  “gon' fill this pussy up.  you want that, honey? want me to cum in daddy’s pussy?”

“y-yessss,” you mewl, head burying itself in his neck as you grind against him, every nerve in your body on fire.  “please, daddy. cum in me please.”

the sound he makes is beautiful as he slams into you one last time, his hips stuttering as he spills his warm thick load into you, flooding your womb with his seed.

“shit,” he mutters, chest heaving, forehead falling to rest against your shoulder as you both catch your breath.

for a moment, the only sound in the car besides a song playing on low volume is the harsh rhythm of your breathing, the scent of sweat and sex mingling with the lingering haze of smoke.

you stay like that for a while, tangled together, your body still humming from the high of it all. jey’s hands roam lazily over your back, soothing, grounding, bringing you back down to earth and you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

eventually, he presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, grinning against your skin.  “told you I missed you girl.”

you laugh, breathless and light, brushing a hand through his hair.  “you’re so dumb.”

jey leans back just enough to look at you, his grin wide and boyish, the mischievous glint in his eye making your heart skip.  “yeah, but you love my dumbass.”

and damn it, he’s right.

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[skipper1331]

Crash // Alessia Russo

Request: hey, could you please write some angst for alessia if possible.

a/n: hope u like it :))

warnings: car crash

"Where are you taking me?" Alessia grumbled with her arms crossed as she sat in the passengers seat, not amused by the fact that she sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, I don‘t like it when you drive" she added, her frown only deepening.

Playfully offended, you gasped, "are you saying I’m not a good driver?"

She turned to you, answering dead serious, "yes!" she crumbled under the glare she got in return, your raised eyebrow never a good sign "no" she mumbled, her fingers slowly interviewing with yours. "It‘s my job to drive you around, not the other way around" the striker continued to ramble about the situation while you just smiled to yourself.

Usually, Alessia was always sat behind the steering wheel, driving you to your destinations. And though, you were able to drive yourself (license in your wallet since years) the blonde insisted on driving you every time. She even drove you to appointments that didn't involve her, such as coffee dates with your friends or else. She loved driving and especially driving you around or you just seated in the passenger seat.

"But I’ve a surprise for you, so relax" you smiled, "you‘re even allowed to be dj" you grinned, the blonde always complaining that you wouldn’t even play one song of her choice.

"You‘ve got the passenger princess privileges, use them, love"

Alessia grumbled something before she connected her phone, her playlist starting to play. "You‘re lucky you‘re cute"

You had something really nice planned which she would definitely enjoy. Lately, everything has been stressful with your studies and all the exams that were coming up. And Lessi had shown nothing but love and support during this time, which is why you wanted to do something special as a thank you.

Everything was perfect so far, the blonde slowly accepting the fact that you sat behind the steering wheel instead of her, the conversation flowing easily as always until suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, hitting your side with a force.

That’s the last thing you remember.

-

"Is she okay?" Alessia asked the medic with a raspy shaky voice, panic radiating of her body. She didn‘t know where you were. The ambulance left immediately with you, everything happening so fast. One second, she was telling you about the derby and in the other second, the car left the road and hit a tree.

"Ma‘am, you need to sit." The medic ordered as Alessia attempted to get up, hissing in pain. Her arm and shoulder hurt awfully, her face slightly bloody as it trickled down her forehead and nose.

"No! I need to know! She wasn‘t speaking, her eyes were closed! I- i don’t know"

The medics tried to calm her down the best they could, but it didn‘t help much.

After a short examination of her, the second ambulance left for the hospital.

-

In the hospital, Alessia went through several checks. Her arm was broken but thankfully it was a straight and simple fraction and nothing splintered. Her cuts were taken care of, only the large one on her forehead needing stitches. "You were very lucky" the doctor explained, also explaining the rest of her treatment and more. But Alessia couldn’t listen, all she could think about was you.

Are you alright? Are you alive? Where are you? What was happening?

"What about my wife? Is she alright? Please tell me she‘s alright" Alessia begged, tears streaming down her face.

-

Alessia sat next to your bed, holding your hand, praying that you would open your eyes. Just anything.

She sat there for hours, not leaving your side at all. Each time a nurse came in, the blonde wanted to know everything. What were they doing? What meant this sound or that? Are you getting better? Anything. The thought of you not waking up was terrifying her.

"Lessi, i think you should go for a walk. Grab a coffee and some fresh air" her mother ordered, sensing that her daughter was thinking too much, holding your hand tightly.

"I can’t" she replied, her eyes not leaving your face.

"Less, she‘s right. As soon as something happens, we‘ll tell you immediately. I promise" your mother joined the conversation now.

"Ok-ay" in trance she stood up, walking backwards to the door, her eyes not leaving yours until she was out of the room.

When Alessia came back, nothing had happened (she hadn‘t even been gone for 5 minutes) yet she was disappointed. This was her worst nightmare.

She wasn’t able to protect you.

You looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, so fragile. It broke her heart.

In the evening, her mum and your mum said their good bye to the girl, promising to come back in the morning, Alessia still refusing to leave your side and to sleep at home. She couldn’t.

You needed her.

-

You woke up in a bright room, groaning in pain. Looking around, you saw Carol sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. "Hey, you’re up" the magazine was long forgotten as she was at your side, offering you some water.

"Less" you rasped. You fiddled with the duvet, memories flashing in front of your eyes.

Car.

Tree.

Blood.

Less.

"Stay" her mother ordered, already calling the nurse.

"Where‘s Lessi?" you cried in pain, scared and terrified.

"Love!" Alessia‘s eyes widened as she re-entered your room, only gone for a minute to use the bathroom. "You‘re awake" she was at your side in an instant, holding your hand and rapidly kissing it. The other hand trying her best to cradle your head with the cast, "how are you feeling?"

"I‘m so sorry" you cried, "your car" you sobbed.

"I don’t care about the car right now" she stated firmly, wiping away the tears.

"You love your Mercedes"

"I don’t care about that stupid car. You‘re awake!" her voice slightly raised by all the emotions she was feeling.

In that moment a nurse came in, checking all things before the doctor joined, explaining everything and the following steps.

Carol left after the medical team had gone out of the room, sensing that both of you needed a minute alone, calling your mother to let her know what the doctor said.

"I‘ll pay you back, i promise" you refused to look at her, ashamed that the one time you were driving of course something had to happen.

"Look at me, please" she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t seen your open eyes in days and now you refused to look at her. She couldn’t handle it. The lack of you in the last few days had been awful for her and not knowing if you would ever wake up, had been more than terrifying. It was a feeling she wouldn’t want anybody to feel. This fear, the feeling of not being able to breathe, as if her chest was constricting with every movement. And then the thoughts. Mentally she couldn't find rest because she hoped, prayed and mourned. There were too many emotions at once and the strongest of them was the most unpredictable - love. What would you do out of love?

When you looked at her, you realized how scared she must have been the last few days.

"Please don‘t cry" you whispered as you saw the tears, the exhaustion on her face and her injuries, "i thought-" she hiccuped, all feelings bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, i don‘t care about the Mercedes, okay? All i care about is you and that you‘re alive. That‘s all that ever matters to me" her hands cupped your cheeks, crying even more.

"Come here" groaning in pain, you scooted to the side, "stop moving. what are you doing!" Lessi asked with wide eyes, panic in her expression.

"Come here, please" with the pout on your face, she just couldn’t say no. She needed this just as much as you did. You leaned against her, head resting on her shoulder as your hand held her shirt, seeking comfort in her touch.

"I‘m sorry for driving, i just wanted to do something special" you whispered, "i never wanted to get you hurt" you mumbled, scared, exhausted and still in pain after everything.

"No more of that. We can worry about everything later, right now i just need you close" she replied, her tightening her grip around you (not even to hurt you), slowly calming down.

You were alive.

You were in her arms.

You were alive.

She couldn’t care less about her car or about your surprise or literally anything else in this world.

All that mattered was you.

"I love you so so much."

Everything was going to be okay.

It was you and her against the world.

And she would support you on every step of the way of your recovery because that‘s what wives do. In sickness and in health just like she had promised.

Like the doctor said, "it‘s going to take its time but you‘ll fully recover" and that’s what Alessia held onto. Because sometimes the only thing that helps is hope. Alessia’s hopes and believes were stronger than her fears. Hope was stronger than any fear, especially when it came to the life of a loved one. Someone that was you. Someone who’s loved so deeply by Alessia and everyone around you. Your wife never gave up, never lost her hope and faith in you and your strength. Because if she had done so, she might had lost herself at the same time.

Love was unconditional and unpredictable - that‘s what made it special.

And Alessia truly did love you, more than anything in this world (and definitely more than her Mercedes)