#I think i'm just going to take a step back and let it go

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k words

Summary: You were forgetting something. However the most frustrating part was you couldn't seem to remember what exactly it was that you were forgetting.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @bonefanatic! I know that it's Yandere!Batfam in the OG post but as soon as I read it this is just what it inspired. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

You were renowned for forgetting things.

You'd always forget to bring your keys the day when your mother happened to be running late. You'd forget your pencil case on the day of exams and forget your bus pass on the rare days that your father didn't give you a ride.

On sunny days you'd forget to wear your sunscreen. On rainy days, much like today, you'd forget your umbrella. Now, when you were a young girl, running back home through the rain wouldn't matter. In fact, you had vague memories of your feet splashing through puddles, hands shielding your face from the pelting rain while you and an old lover got soaked to the bone.

You could hardly even remember those days; just the sound of splashing puddles and the deep petrichor, the cold of the rain mixed with the warmth of someone's laughter...

A coo brought you out of your thoughts and your eyes met those of bright blue. The baby strapped to your chest gave you a semblance of a toothy smile, his teeth only beginning to come out and you returned it, leaning in to rub your nose against his, revelling in the giggles it brought out.

The sweet boy, who only ever saw you, was the reason you couldn't let yourself get wet, standing in the shade of an apartment building and choosing to wait out the rain.

You gave your baby a once over, making sure that he didn't get wet in your effort to reach the building. He looked fine and his clothing wasn't wet, although he did seem a little cold. You held his tiny hands in between your palms, repeating the process with his feet until you were satisfied.

The door of the building swung open and you immediately covered Thomas' ears to protect him from the cold breeze, letting him burrow his face into your chest.

In came a man that had to be larger than anyone you had ever seen in your life. Clearly, he had been caught in the rain, his boots were soaked and so was his leather jacket. He donned a motorcycle helmet, and your stomach lurched at the thought of him driving that out in this weather. Without realizing it, your eyes glanced over his figure, wondering if he had possibly gotten hurt.

When you brought your eyes back up from his muddy boots to his face you were slightly startled. When had he taken off his helmet? His blue eyes stared back at you, shock apparent on his features before he had schooled them back to monotony.

"Are you lost? I don't think you live here." His voice was low and gravelly, but it found a familiar place in the back of your head.

You gave him a small smile, "No, I'm just trying to wait out the rain. I forgot to bring an umbrella, and I really don't want my son to get sick."

His eyes glanced down to your son and you curiously watched as something swirled in his eyes. Longing perhaps? Maybe he had some baby fever? It didn't quite seem like that though...you just couldn't put your finger on it.

"Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"I already tried. The streets here are too narrow for a cab to drive through so I'd have to walk a bit before I'd reach the road."

He nodded, taking a beat before he responded, "Wait here."

And then he took off for the stairs and even though he looked relaxed, you saw him taking multiples stairs in a single step, resisting the curious urge to tell him to be careful and not to slip because of his wet shoes.

He didn't make you wait long, reappearing in less than 5 minutes with an umbrella and something else in his hands.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Please, I insist. I don't think the rain is going to stop anytime soon and there isn't anywhere for you to sit down," He said earnestly, placing the umbrella in your hands, "I already called a cab. It should be waiting for you at the corner."

"Thank you, young man." You watched him run his fingers through the cute little tuft of white hair bashfully before he handed you something else—a fuzzy blanket patterned with bats.

You looked curiously up at him, "For the little guy. He looks cold."

You really wanted to refuse, but Thomas' nose and ears had begun to turn red from the chill and with the blanket he'd be better protected as you walked to the cab. So, you bundled up the baby in the cozy blanket and thanked the man again who said goodbye with a melancholic smile.

While taking the cab home, your fingers traced over the embroidered monogram in the corner of the blanket that looked like it was brand new.

T.W.

***

You don't know what it was about the travelling circus that had you so enraptured. There was just something about watching the acrobats soar through the sky like birds, as though they were weightless, that made you feel equal parts worried and in awe.

It was unusual. You didn't enjoy watching gymnasts while you grew up and you had certainly never visited a circus, and yet while sitting in the seats for the performance of Haly's travelling circus for the 4th time since they had arrived at Gotham, you couldn't help but wait in anticipation for the show to begin.

Thomas was clutched to your lap, every bit as excited as you were, when a man with dark hair and blue eyes—a common feature here in Gotham, it seemed—sat next to you.

You spared him a glance, only to find him staring back at you with a small smile and a cone of roasted chestnuts in his hand. He handed you a pair of ear protectors.

"They're handing it outside the tent—wouldn't want the little guy to hurt his ears."

You thanked him with a smile, placing them over Thomas' ears and giggling when he laughed at you pointing at the man who returned his toothy grin with one of his own.

"Would you like one?" He offered, holding out the warm chestnuts for you to take and you obliged, thanking him and relishing in the taste and the immediate warmth that spread through your body.

"So, what brings you to the circus?"

Your arms tightened around Thomas, resting your cheek on the top of his head as you contemplated the answer, "I don't know. I just like the acrobats. Every time I watch them, I feel comfortable, like I've been watching them my entire life. Which is weird because I've never seen acrobats before Haly's circus came to Gotham."

You looked back at him, "What about you?"

"My mom used to be an acrobat here. After I lost her, I like to visit, so I don't forget her." He explained, eyes scrolling across the bright colours of the circus, taking everything in. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

He looked down at Thomas, watching as the baby gave him an innocent grin that had returned with a sad smile and giving a delicate little pinch to his pudgy thigh before looking back up at you.

"I really don't want to lose my mom a second time."

***

One thing you really couldn't appreciate enough before having children was the freedom to shop for groceries all alone. Now, after having an infant, something as simple as stocking the fridge turned into a long and arduous feat.

You’d have to get Thomas dressed, make sure his nappy was changed, and time it just right—long enough since he’d eaten that you wouldn’t need to change him again, but not so long that he’d get hungry and need you to breastfeed him in the middle of the store.

Not only that, you'd also be stuck pushing a cart around with him strapped to your chest because he was still too young for the shopping cart.

And finally, the most torturous part of this whole excursion—the car loading. Most of your bags were heavy and packed full, and you couldn’t load them into the trunk with Thomas strapped to you.

So, you’d carefully place him in the car seat, turning on the engine and air conditioning to cool the car after its time baking in the parking lot. Then, you’d haul the heavy groceries into the trunk, turn off the car, take Thomas back out, return the trolley to its rightful place, and—once again—secure him in his car seat before finally heading home.

You stared at the cart full of groceries—enough to last you at least 3 weeks so you wouldn't have to make another trip for a while—trying to summon the energy to load the heavy items in the blasted vehicle.

"Mo—Ma'am?"

A young man approached you, a half-drunk coffee in his hand and your brows twitched. Just how many coffees had this boy had today? You shook your head of the thought. Why would you even care?

"Do you need some help?"

Giving him a polite smile, you shook your head, "I'm okay. Thank you, sweetie."

He gave you a sad smile, and it made you immediately want to take your words back and to give him the world instead. The feeling confused you even more. Why were you so concerned about him? And why did he look so sad after you refused his request? If anything, he should’ve been relieved that he wouldn’t have to do any work.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." He tried again, this time placing his hand on the handle of the trolley, his hand just a hair away from yours. It was peculiar—your instinct for stranger-danger urged you to pull your hand away, and yet, you felt an equally strong urge to place your hand over his.

You smiled again, "I guess I'll take you up on your offer."

He was stronger than he looked. Despite his scrawny frame, he easily lifted your bags into the trunk, loading everything and shutting it in record time. Dusting off his hands with a proud smile, he turned to you as if expecting praise—only to deflate when he caught you watching him with a small, lingering smile.

It was as though he grew sadder with each passing second, his expression dimming as he gave you one last longing look before turning that same gaze to Thomas, "I’ll return the cart for you. Why don’t you strap him in?"

You nodded, thanking him again, "Thank you so much for your help."

Using Thomas’ little fist, you waved goodbye to the boy. He returned it with an expression far too tired for his young face. You resisted the urge to tell him to get a good night’s rest, instead watching him push the trolley away through your rearview mirror. A pang hit your chest at the sight of his slumped shoulders.

***

A figure collided with your back and you would have been knocked over if he had been any taller, however when you looked down, a young boy with dark hair and beautiful green eyes looked back up at you.

"Ummi..." He murmured, before he even had a chance to stop himself and you frowned in concern for this child who couldn't have been more than 9 years old who all of a sudden looked so small and unsure and something in your soul reached out for him.

You leaned down, well, as much as you could with a baby strapped to your chest, "Did you lose your mom, sweetheart?"

He flinched, eyes going wide and his bottom lip began to tremble in a way that made you want to hold him to your heart and soothe him, "Yes...I have lost my ummi...and I wish she'd come back....I miss her very much."

You reached out a hand before you could stop yourself, almost reaching for him to run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails lightly against his scalp—

"Damian!"

Your hand froze an inch away as a man, slightly older than you, ran up to him. When your eyes met his, a rush of something surged through you—so intense and so sudden that there wasn’t even time for an epiphany.

All you knew was, you had met this man before.

Only, you couldn't remember when.

"I'm sorry about him. You know how kids are." The man with familiar blue eyes told you, flashing you a charming smile that had done an incredibly good job of hiding the misery underneath. And yet, you still saw past the mask. And still… you chose to look away.

You smiled up at him before glancing down at Thomas, now realizing why this curious stranger's eyes felt so familiar—your son looked up at you with almost identical ones, "I do know."

The man followed your gaze to the happy baby in your arms and you watched as the corner of his lips had dropped from the calculated smile he had worn. It was like he had frozen in time and the more you watched him, the more despondent his expression became.

His son—Damian. Why did that name sound so familiar?— looked up at him with concern, now grabbing his hand and tugging him away.

"Baba." He said softly, finally managing to knock the man out of his stupor.

"Oh," He finally spoke, looking down at his distressed son, "I'm sorry, miss. I hope my son didn't hurt you or the baby. If you need any medical bills covered, you can contact this number."

He handed you a business card and walked away before you could even argue about how absurd it was that you would ask for him to pay your medical bills over his adorable son bumping into you. It was an honest mistake!

You could only watch them walk away before your eyes looked down at the Wayne Enterprises business card.

"Bruce Wayne, CEO."

'Bruce'

You swore you had heard that name before.

And yet... you'd forgotten.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@eloriis

[coqhee]

LOSE MY BREATH

✷ enhypen's reaction to wearing what you wore on your first date

day 24 of melodies to memories ― ot7 x f!r fluff ⨯ petnames skinship kissing ⨯ 1607

em's note ★ not really an advent anymore is it but that's ok!! i refuse to abandon this since we're really just 2 fics off (one now!!)

─── ♡

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung would be coming home from work ready to go out on your date then WOW

tries to play it cool at first, giving you his usual charming smile, but you can see the way his gaze lingers

quickly tries to recompose his cocky-sweet persona, and makes sure you know how perfect you are

“hi bab- woah” he’d say as he looks up after putting his bag down.

“hm?” you pretend to mindlessly hum as if you didn’t plan it, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if it was just another one of those expensive dresses he’d buy you.

“you look prettier than the first time i saw you in this” heeseung grinned, looking you up and down.

“oh, please,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush at his words.

he smirks knowingly, stepping closer and tilting his head slightly. “no wonder why you asked to go to that shitty diner again,” he snapped, the pieces all falling into place.

“mmhm,” you hum again, this time a bit smug as you shrug. 

“c'mon let’s go get food poisoning or something,” he leans in close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking your hand in his and leading you out to the car. 

more under the cut!

─── ♡

PARK JONGSEONG

comes home with roses then BOOM jaw on the floor

it’s not even that he recognizes that you’re wearing what you wore on your first date he just thinks you look absolutely stunning

being the gentleman he is, when he does realize, he’s sending compliments your way the whooole night

“you look amazing, sweetheart,” jay quickly regained his composure with a smile on his face after seeing you in the same stunning dress.

“notice anyyything different?” you asked, drawing out the words teasingly.

he narrows his eyes playfully, stepping closer to you with a hand rubbing his chin in mock thought. “hmm, let’s see… is it the shoes? no, wait—it’s the way you’re absolutely glowing right now.”

“mm mm” you hum out loud while he takes one long look and realizes.

“no way,” he breathes, his smile growing impossibly wider as he steps even closer, his hands gently resting on your waist, reality clicking in “you actually kept it all this time?”

you nod and grin, pleased with his reaction.

─── ♡

SIM JAEYUN

poor bro doesn’t even realize cause he’s just so in love with everything you wear

as soon as you tell him though he’s running back to his room to find that dorky striped shirt he was wearing

he’s trying to recreate EVERYTHING from that first date

“you really don’t recognize what i'm wearing?” you sigh feeling a little disappointed, yet incredibly understandable from jake’s perspective. you have way too many outfits for your own good.

“i seriously don’t know angel, im so sorry,” he pleads, scratching his head desperately trying to figure it out.

“it’s what i wore on our first date,” 

"no way." jake’s voice drops to a whisper, as if he’s just uncovered the biggest secret of the century.

you nod, your grin growing wider as you cross your arms. "way."

his face drops to a look of shock and runs to his room. a minute later, he emerges, proudly wearing the very green and white long-sleeved shirt he had donned on your first date. the one that was a little too big on him back then, and still is now, though it somehow manages to look even cuter.

“ta-da!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out with a grin, though it falters slightly when he notices the faint ketchup stain still adorning the hem.

“oh my god, jake,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands. “you kept that?”

"of course i did," he says, feigning offense as he spins in place to show off the shirt. "this bad boy is iconic. and now, we match." as he extends his hand to help you up from the couch, pulling you into his arms for an embrace while smiling into your neck.

─── ♡

PARK SUNGHOON

immediately notices since he bought it for you so you could accompany him to some charity gala his parents asked him to bring a date to

he’s fully in the moment asking you to do a spin for him, again and again

he don’t gaf about the date anymore

“i think you made it prettier than it was already,” he smiles warmly

you can’t help the heat rising to your cheeks at his words, his warm gaze making you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

“oh, stop,” you mumble, swatting lightly at his chest, though the smile pulling at your lips betrays your feigned humbleness.

“what?” he teases, catching your hand mid-swat and holding it on his own. “i’m just being honest. you make everything look better—always have.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart is beating just a little faster. “you really don’t have to lay it on so thick, hoon. it’s just an outfit.”

“just an outfit?” he repeats, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “baby, this is the outfit. the one that made me think, ‘wow, i’ve got to do everything i can to make sure i get a second date with her.’”

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re so dramatic.”

─── ♡

KIM SUNOO

of course he’d remember that outfit cause you chose to match on your first date as if you were already a couple

though actually, you didn’t even remember what you wore and he’s the one to call you out

he’d fake pout and be dramatic about how you don’t love him

“you realize what you’re wearing right?” sunoo asked with a crinkle of his nose from smiling seeing you in it.

“huh? is something wrong? i know it’s a little small on me now, but i haven’t worn it in a while,” you say worried, checking yourself out in the mirror feeling a slight bit of self doubt.

“what? no it looks great sunshine, don’t worry. you look amazing as always” he reassured, stepping closer, his hands brushing against your waist as if to emphasize his point. “it’s just… that’s what you wore on our first date. is it some special occasion?”

“oh it is! no wonder i haven’t worn it in a while,” you saw his face shift immediately into a pout.

“you really don’t remember? are you sure you even love me?” he asked, fake wiping a tear from his cheek.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic tone, rolling your eyes. “oh, stop it. of course i love you, you big baby.”

─── ♡

YANG JUNGWON

another bf that remembers for SURE!!

you two weren’t even going out anywhere but he thought he’d clean out your closet for you as a favor since it was a mess and the second he laid his eyes on it he wanted you to wear it again

jaw dropped eyes bulging yet hyping you up at the same time saying you should live in that outfit. 

“baby c'mere,” jungwon called out from your room.

“yeah?”

“put this on,” he’d hold out a lump of clothes and you quickly took the pile and changed in the bathroom.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the clothes now on you, and he looked up from his phone, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“you look—" he paused, clearly taking in your appearance with a pleased expression, "absolutely perfect. this is what i was imagining the whole time.”

you raised an eyebrow, a bit of confusion flickering in your mind. “seriously won? it’s just a hoodie and jeans.”

“yeah but it’s the hoodie and jeans you wore on out first date, and you look amazing.” you rolled your eyes at his praise

“mmkay loverboy,” you giggled pulling him in for a small kiss before heading back out to the kitchen.

─── ♡

NISHIMURA RIKI

surprise surprise, your first date outfit was his hoodie cause you spilled on your shirt 5 minutes in

of course he likes seeing you in his hoodie and he can’t help but wanna giggle on the inside but he’s gotta keep the nonchalant act up

complain about you taking specifically that hoodie but it basically became yours the second you put it on

“i swear, do you only like the hoodie cause i gave it to you on our first date?” riki asked with mock annoyance when he saw you in it, waiting for you to get ready faster.

“mayybe maybe not, either way im still gonna wear it,” you smirked running past him to the door to put your shoes on. 

“hey, no fair!” he called after you, his voice light and teasing. “you can’t just run away from me like that, especially when you know how much i love seeing you in that hoodie.”

you shot him a playful glance over your shoulder, pausing for just a second before continuing to slip on your shoes. “oh, i’m just giving you a little taste of what it was like back then. you remember how i looked when i first wore it, right?” you teased.

he brought his nose down to sniff the clothing scrunching his nose. “now it smells all like you,” he sighed, joking with no actual complaint in sight. “guess i have to get myself a new one,”

“oh shut up, you like when i wear this hoodie so stop whining and lets go,” you rolled your eyes as you turned around to look at him smiling at the tall man, admiring the way his eyes gleamed in adoration.

─── ♡

melodies to memories tl (open!): @wonziz @hhmnya @ourhees @lovuegi @letmein2urheart @firstclassjaylee @ancnymcnzjy

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved

[misctf]

For the Team: A Real Man

“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.

Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”

“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”

The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.

“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”

“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”

The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.

“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.

Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.

“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.

As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.

“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”

“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”

“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.

Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.

Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.

“No...no, please!”

The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 

“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.

Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.

“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.

With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.

“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 

Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 

“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”

Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 

“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”

Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  

As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.

“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”

But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.

“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”

Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.

"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"

"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.

Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...

Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”

Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  

“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.

Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.

“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.

Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”

Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.

[myownwholewildworld]

Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth More than Gold

SUMMARY: Glen Powell has asked you, his long-time friend and secret crush to be his date to the Golden Globes. The evening is filled with glitz, glamour, and the intoxicating spark of possibilities - both on the red carpet and behind the scene. And at the end of the day Glen may not have won the Golden Globe, but he just might have won something better—you.

A/N: Glen's look at the Golden Globes did things to me and gave me so many ideas. This will probably be the last fic I do for the GG and I'm going to try to get back on track with my WIPs and Requests.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments and reblogs! I seriously smile and get all giddy like a little kid when I get a notification from you guys so please let me know what I think.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k

TAGS: In Comments.

The hotel room was a whirlwind of chaos, a perfect reflection of Glen’s pre-event energy. The plush carpet was littered with tissue paper from a last-minute gift delivery, a shoe box sat abandoned near the bed, and the sleek black tie Glen had decided to forego tonight was somehow draped over a lampshade.

Glen himself was in the middle of the room, pacing in socks and dress pants, his phone pressed to his ear. “Listen, I’m just saying, Texas football isn’t a sport—it’s a religion,” he declared, his Texas drawl warming the edges of his words. “And if the Longhorns take the game against Ohio State this week, we’re coming for that national title.”

He paused, evidently listening to the journalist on the other end of the call, then grinned as he gestured animatedly with his free hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know you want to talk about the nomination. But did you see last weekend’s game? That last play in the second overtime?”

Across the room, you sat curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone but only half-paying attention to the screen. Watching Glen charm his way through an interview about his career or recent projects while managing to somehow steer the conversation to Texas football was nothing new.

“Cufflinks,” said Warren, the stylist ensuring Glen looked red-carpet ready. Warren stood to the side, arms crossed with the patience of someone who’d dealt with a dozen “Glen Powells” before.

“They’re in the pocket of your tux,” you called without looking up, your voice laced with playful exasperation. “Right where I told you I put them earlier.”

Glen froze mid-gesture, patting down his pants pocket first before moving to his jacket. When his fingers closed around the cufflinks, he shot you a sheepish grin. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mouthed, before turning his attention back to his call. “Listen, I gotta wrap this up. Can I call you tomorrow and we’ll finish this?” he asked the journalist.

With that, he hung up and turned to the room, raking a hand through his neatly-styled hair. “You believe this?” He said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’m on deadline and trying to get out the door for one of the biggest nights of my life. And GQ wants to talk about…wardrobe and clothes and who I’m wearing.”

Warren arched a brow, adjusting the velvet Armani jacket on its hanger. “Wardrobe is why I’m here, Glen,” he said with a grin. “Now, if you could refrain from wrinkling this masterpiece, we might actually get you to the event looking like a winner.”

You snorted, rising from the couch. “Poor you,” you teased, brushing imaginary lint off your own shirt. “Must be so hard being adored by millions while wearing designer clothes.”

Glen rolled his eyes and snorted, stepping closer as the stylist fussed with his cummerbund. “Hey, I’m counting on you to keep me sane tonight,” he said, half-serious as he began to tug at the cuffs of his shirt. “You’re my buffer.”

“Buffer?” you repeated, arching a brow. “That’s what I’m here for? Not moral support—just as a human barrier between you and Hollywood?”

“Exactly,” he deadpanned, his grin widening. “You’re overqualified for the job, though.”

You stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt, your fingers moving with practiced ease over the slick fabric. Glen watched you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Okay, be honest,” he said, tilting his chin slightly. “One button or two undone? What’s the vibe tonight?”

You paused, letting your gaze drop to the open collar of his shirt, catching a glimpse of the chest hair peeking out.

“One,” you said decisively, reaching up to fasten the second button. “Two buttons undone is too much chest hair. You’re going to a red carpet, not auditioning for a ‘70s cop show.”

He laughed, the rich sound filling the room as he placed his hands on his hips. “Hey, my chest hair is a crowd-pleaser,” he countered, feigning offense. “You don’t know how many compliments I’ve gotten on this chest.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a laugh. “Please never say that to me again.”

He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Admit it. You’re just jealous you can’t pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a playful tug. “Oh, please. If I wanted to show off chest hair, I’d buy a faux-fur vest and call it a day.”

“Savage,” he said, clutching his chest as though you’d wounded him. “You’ve got jokes tonight, huh?”

“Somebody has to keep your ego in check,” you replied, stepping back to inspect your work. “And you make it so easy.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, I’ll have you know, Warren said I was rocking this look,” he said, gesturing toward the stylist, who was busy folding tissue paper into one of the garment bags.

Warren didn’t even look up. “Warren also said to stop touching your shirt or you’ll wrinkle it,” he replied dryly, earning a snort from you and an exaggerated groan from Glen.

“Fine,” Glen said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No more touching. But if I get to the carpet and I’m not turning heads, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, you’ll turn heads,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a once-over. “If not for the suit, then definitely for whatever ridiculous sound bite you give on the carpet. You’re physically incapable of being boring, remember?”

He grinned, stepping closer so the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Is that a compliment?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly.

You tilted your head, refusing to let him win. “Don’t get used to it, Cowboy.”

“Ah, there it is,” he said, leaning back with a laugh. “The nickname. I knew it was coming.”

You shrugged. “If the boots fit…”

Glen slid the custom velvet Armani tux jacket over his broad shoulders, the deep midnight-black fabric catching the light in subtle, luxurious waves. He tugged at the lapels, ensuring everything was sitting perfectly, before stepping back with an air of casual confidence.

“Well?” he asked, doing a quick spin on his heels, arms spread out theatrically. “What do you think? Too much? Not enough?”

You leaned back slightly, arms crossed, pretending to appraise him critically, but your expression betrayed you. Your eyes swept over him, taking in every detail—the sharp tailoring that hugged his frame perfectly, the structured cut of the jacket emphasizing his frame, and the way the silk shirt beneath hinted at the faintest trail of chest hair.

The stylist had done a remarkable job on his hair, taming the usual tousled locks into something sleek yet effortlessly natural. And the stubble—God, the stubble. He hadn’t bothered to shave completely, leaving just enough scruff to lend him a rugged edge that, if you were honest, made him look even more attractive.

The all-black ensemble was a bold choice, but it worked. The mix of textures—the smooth silk of the shirt, the luxurious velvet of the jacket, and the matte sheen of the tailored trousers—created a look that was polished yet unmistakably Glen.

“You clean up nice,” you finally said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you took him in from head to toe. “I mean, you almost look like a proper gentleman.”

“Almost?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as he turned back toward the mirror, pretending to check himself out.

“Well, the stubble kind of ruins the whole gentleman thing,” you quipped, biting back a laugh.

“Ruin it?” Glen turned to face you again, his voice dripping with mock offense. “The stubble is the pièce de résistance, thank you very much.” He ran a hand over his jaw, grinning when he saw the way your gaze briefly followed the movement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Sure it is. But seriously, you look good, Glen. The best I’ve seen you look in a while.”

For a moment, his grin softened, and his eyes caught yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, more sincerely this time. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer than usual, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he broke the moment with his signature charm. “Well, I have to. You’re the one who’ll have to be seen with me all night. Can’t embarrass you on your first red carpet.”

You glanced at the clock and froze. Less than an hour until you were supposed to be ready and out the door. Helping Glen finish getting ready had been fun—maybe a little too fun, you realized now, as time ticked away faster than you’d expected.

“I need to go get ready,” you said abruptly, stepping back and pointing toward the door.

Glen smirked, his hands casually adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Go on, Cinderella. Clock’s ticking.”

Without another word, you bolted for your room next door, already running through a mental checklist of what needed to happen to make yourself red carpet-ready in under an hour. Once inside, you kicked the door shut behind you and headed straight for the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Okay. Hair. Makeup. Dress. You could do this. Right?

You pulled your hair loose from the lazy ponytail it had been in all day, raking your fingers through it and trying to decide if it would look better up or down. Your eyes darted to the neckline of the dress still hanging on the back of the closet door, but you didn’t have time to figure out how to make everything match. You groaned, pressing your hands to your face.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Hello?” you called out, cautiously heading toward the door and cracking it open.

Standing there were two members of Glen’s glam squad—one holding a bag of makeup brushes and palettes, the other with a small suitcase of hair tools.

“Mr. Powell asked us to check on you,” the makeup artist said with a kind smile. “He thought you might be running behind.”

You blinked at them, momentarily speechless. “He... sent you?”

The hairstylist nodded. “He figured you might need a little help. Mind if we come in?”

You stepped aside to let them in, still processing Glen’s uncanny ability to predict you’d be panicking. “Sorry about the mess,” you admitted, glancing at the clock again. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Don’t worry,” the makeup artist said, already setting up her supplies on the bathroom counter. “We’ve got this. Can we see the dress? It’ll help us figure out the best look for you.”

You grabbed the garment bag from the closet and unzipped it, revealing the dress inside. You’d picked it out weeks ago, but standing there now, you suddenly second-guessed everything about it.

The hairstylist tilted his head thoughtfully, taking in the neckline and cut. “With this neckline, I’d suggest pulling your hair up—something elegant but not overdone. It’ll show off your shoulders and collarbone beautifully.”

You nodded, trusting his expertise. “That sounds perfect.”

“And for makeup,” the other stylist added, “we’ll keep it timeless—focus on your eyes, a little shimmer, and a soft lip. Nothing too bold, just enough to complement the dress and the hair.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, exhaling as you sat down.

With practiced efficiency, they got to work. The hairstylist began gathering your hair into an elegant style that framed your face while showcasing the neckline of the dress. Meanwhile, the makeup artist brushed soft gold tones onto your lids, added a touch of liner to define your eyes, and blended everything seamlessly. A quick swipe of lipstick finished the look.

You watched the transformation in the mirror, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. By the time they stepped back to admire their handiwork, you felt like a completely different person.

“Done in thirty minutes, just like we promised,” the hairstylist said with a grin.

You stood, giving them both a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously, I wouldn’t have made it without you—or Glen, apparently.”

The makeup artist laughed. “He seemed pretty confident you’d need backup. Smart guy.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about his effortless charm and how much he looked out for you. “He really is.”

After the hairstylist and makeup artist left, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, a deep breath escaping your lips. You could do this.

You reached for the dress, still hanging from its garment bag, and carefully unzipped it. The soft fabric slid through your fingers as you pulled it off the hanger, feeling a flutter of nerves as you held it up in front of you.

The dress was simple, yet elegant, hugging every curve in a way that made you second-guess your choice. But it was beautiful.

With your heart racing a little, you slipped the dress on. You paused to glance at the mirror as you tugged the fabric up your body, hoping everything would fall into place.

But it didn’t.

The zipper snagged halfway up your lower back. You tugged a little harder, but it didn’t budge. Panic settled in your chest. You didn’t want to rip the fabric or make a scene, but there was no way to finish getting ready if you couldn’t zip the dress.

Your fingers fumbled for your phone, dialing Glen’s number before you could think twice. The seconds ticked by slowly, and your nerves only heightened with every ring.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said the moment he answered. Your voice trembled slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm. “I need help. The zipper on the dress is stuck, and I can’t get it up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m coming right over,” Glen’s voice was calm, reassuring. You could almost hear the smile in his tone.

The call ended quickly, and before you knew it, there was a soft knock at your door. You quickly pulled the front of the dress to your chest and peeked out, your eyes meeting Glen’s as you opened the door just a crack. His presence was as commanding as ever, but now, standing there, you felt exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted him, offering a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, raising an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to step inside.

As he entered, you turned, giving him full view of the situation. The dress clung tightly to your body, and you were sure your back looked exposed in the tight fabric. A slight blush crept across your cheeks as your fingers instinctively tugged at the fabric.

“Relax,” Glen said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved behind you and gently grasped the zipper. 

After a few tugs and a bit of effort, he managed to get it unstuck, smoothly pulling it the rest of the way up. The dress fit perfectly once it was zipped all the way.

Glen stepped back with a satisfied nod, patting your hip gently. “All good. You’re all set now.”

You took a deep breath, your nerves slightly eased but still there. With a nervous smile, you smoothed the front of your dress down, trying to calm yourself before glancing back at him.

“Do I look okay?” you asked quietly, suddenly unsure of how you appeared.

Glen gave you a slow once-over, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than you expected. Then, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “Seriously. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest easing. Glen’s words meant more than you realized, and as he gave you that smile, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Once you were fully ready, feeling the weight of the evening ahead, Glen offered you a reassuring smile as he adjusted his jacket one last time. He gave you a soft nod, signaling that it was time to go.

Together, you left the suite, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway as you walked side by side toward the elevator. Glen pressed the button, standing close enough to be a silent but steady presence. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he moved—like he was born to own every room he entered, even though his demeanor was always so grounded.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Glen stepped aside, letting you enter first. When you reached the lobby, the bustle of the hotel faded in comparison to the calm, quiet space Glen seemed to create around the two of you. He was the kind of person who moved with purpose, but never rushed—always thoughtful, always present.

As you made your way toward the entrance, he gave a quiet wave to a few people who greeted him, but he kept his focus on you, his hand close to your lower back as if guiding you through the crowd.

Outside, a sleek black car waited by the curb, the driver standing at attention. Glen held the door open for you with a courteous nod, his hand outstretched to assist you into the back seat.

You smiled, appreciating the little things—his attention to detail, the way he never made you feel like you were inconveniencing him. You slid into the seat, and as you did, Glen quickly followed, settling next to you with a quiet grace that was all him.

The driver closed the door, and the car began to move smoothly through the streets, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. The buzz of the evening began to settle into a comfortable rhythm, and Glen turned his attention to you with a soft look.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his tone light but sincere. He glanced down at your dress, the slight gleam in his eyes making you feel all the more seen. “You’re gonna turn heads tonight, no doubt about it.”

You smiled, trying to play it cool, but his words still made your stomach flutter. “I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady. 

The car glided through the streets, the hum of the engine and the soft clink of the streetlights outside giving you a sense of distance from the chaos of the night ahead. Your fingers nervously drummed on the fabric of your dress, your gaze flickering from the passing city lights to the reflection of yourself in the window.

Glen noticed the subtle tension in your posture and the way your fingers twitched, like they couldn’t quite settle. His sharp eyes, attuned to every little shift in your mood, moved over to you. He shifted closer, his hand reaching across the space between you with ease, brushing lightly over your fingers before gently taking your hand in his.

"You're going to be fine," he said, his voice low, teasing but gentle, as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, smoothing away any remnants of tension. "Just smile and wave, Penguin. You’ve got this."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, the warmth of his hand in yours bringing a little bit of ease. “Penguin?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow, feeling the tension in your shoulders release with that soft chuckle.

He grinned at you, the kind of smile that melted any nervous edge. “Yeah, Penguin. You know—Madagascar. Smile and wave boys. Smile and wave.” He gave your hand a playful tug, the humor in his eyes lighting up.

You shook your head, but the tension you’d carried with you slowly began to melt. Glen had that way about him—without even trying, he made things feel easy, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His confidence was infectious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you could pull this off.

The car hit a smooth turn, the soft hum of the tires filling the silence. You glanced at Glen, his easy grin still in place, his hand steady in yours. There was something about his presence—something grounding, comforting. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as you let the last bits of tension drain away.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Glen glanced down at you, his expression softening. He didn’t move, didn’t shift away—he just stayed still, letting you rest there. His thumb continued its soothing motion across the back of your hand, and he tilted his head slightly toward yours.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and steady. "You know I’ve got you."

For a moment, the world outside the car faded away. It was just the two of you, a quiet moment that reminded you why Glen was your best friend. His support, his calm energy—it was all you needed to take a deep breath and believe in yourself again.

As the car slowed to a stop, signaling your arrival at the red carpet, you felt ready. Maybe it was the way Glen always knew how to bring you back to yourself, or maybe it was just the fact that he was there beside you, exactly where he always seemed to be when you needed him most.

You stole a quick glance at Glen, catching the way his gaze softened as he looked back at you, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

“Hey,” he said, the tone shifting just a little, serious but with the same undertone of care. “You’re gonna be great, okay? And if you need me to do anything, I’m right here. Just... be you.”

Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, a reassuring pressure that grounded you, and you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

The driver opened the door, and the bright lights of the red carpet began to stretch ahead of you, already swirling with flashes and faces, the hum of excitement palpable in the air. Glen leaned toward you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your neck.

“You’re gonna shine tonight,” he said quietly, his voice filled with confidence, making you believe it for the first time.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Glen.”

He winked. “Anytime, Penguin. Let’s go make some memories.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, Glen’s hand still firmly in yours, ready to face whatever the night would bring—with him by your side, you felt ready for anything.

The roar of the red carpet hit you the moment you stepped out of the car. A wall of flashing lights and the constant hum of voices calling out names created a dizzying cacophony. For a second, you froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The chaos seemed endless, but Glen’s steady hand on the small of your back was the anchor you needed.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice warm and reassuring, almost lost in the noise. He guided you forward with a gentle pressure, his touch never faltering.

Reporters shouted his name, cameras clicked furiously, and fans called out from behind the barriers. Glen’s demeanor shifted effortlessly, the easy confidence you admired about him coming to life under the scrutiny. But even as he navigated the chaos like a pro, his focus never strayed far from you.

When a particularly eager photographer stepped too close, Glen instinctively pulled you in, lacing your arm through his. The motion was protective yet natural, as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “You doing okay so far?”

You nodded, the nerves still simmering but far less overwhelming with Glen beside you. “Yeah. It’s just... a lot.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers giving your arm a light squeeze. “It’s always a lot. Just keep smiling and don’t trip. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Moments later, you were ushered to the line of reporters waiting for interviews. Glen kept you close, his hand returning to your back as he led you toward the first microphone. The journalist’s attention immediately shifted to him, questions about his latest project firing off one after another.

“This is Glen Powell, looking dapper as always! Who’s your stunning guest tonight?” one reporter asked, her eyes flicking to you with interest.

Glen grinned, that signature charm lighting up his face. “This,” he said, his voice full of pride, “is the best friend who keeps me sane.” He glanced at you, his expression softening as if to emphasize his words.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as the reporter laughed. “Keeping Glen Powell on track sounds like a full-time job!”

“You have no idea,” you replied, finding your confidence in the moment. Glen chuckled beside you, his presence like a shield against the overwhelming spotlight.

The interviews continued, with Glen effortlessly steering the attention toward his projects while making sure you felt included. Whenever he wasn’t speaking, his hand either rested lightly on your back or your arm stayed looped through his. The gesture was subtle, but it kept you grounded, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

In a rare lull between interviews, Glen turned to you, his expression softening as the frenzy of the red carpet seemed to momentarily fade into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the noise around you.

You looked up at him, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of the evening. 

“Hey,” you replied, a little breathless.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of your updo from your face, his fingers lingering just slightly longer than necessary. His touch was light, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you. His eyes searched yours, the usual glint of mischief replaced with something quieter, more sincere. “You okay?”

The simple question held weight, as if he wasn’t just asking about the moment but something deeper. You nodded, your voice catching slightly as you said, “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, his hand dropping back to his side, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger. “Good. Can’t have my Penguin falling apart on me now.”

The moment hung between you, brief but charged with an unspoken connection that neither of you dared to address. Then the chaos of the red carpet surged back to life, pulling you both out of it.

“Ready to keep going?” Glen asked, his tone light again as he gestured toward the next line of reporters.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “Let’s do it.”

With your arm resting gently on his, Glen led you forward, his confidence bolstering your own. And as the night unfolded, you realized that no matter how overwhelming the evening became, you’d be okay—with Glen by your side.

The ballroom was a masterpiece of elegance, bathed in soft, golden light with tables draped in white linens and adorned with extravagant floral centerpieces. Each table bore name cards in ornate calligraphy, indicating an impressive roster of directors, actors, and other Hollywood heavyweights.

Glen pulled out your chair for you before taking his seat beside you, leaning in briefly to whisper, “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

You looked at Glen with a soft smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Powell.”

Within moments, the table began filling with familiar faces. To your left sat Richard Linklater himself, his unassuming charm making you feel more at ease than you’d expected. Across the table, a notable actress you’d only ever seen on-screen chatted animatedly with Glen, who was effortlessly charismatic as always.

“Glen,” Richard said with a warm smile, his Texan drawl coming through as he gestured toward you. “You didn’t introduce me to your lovely guest.”

Glen straightened, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as he turned to you. “Richard, this is the best friend who keeps me sane—and who’s also had to deal with my Dazed and Confused impression far too many times.”

You laughed lightly, shaking Richard’s hand. “It’s true. If I hear him say, ‘Alright, alright, alright,’ one more time, I might disown him.”

Richard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A classic never dies, though, does it?”

“I suppose not,” you conceded with a grin.

The quick banter caught the attention of the others at the table, who joined the conversation with playful remarks of their own. You held your own with ease, even managing to get a genuine laugh out of the actress across from you after a comment about the absurdity of some press junket questions.

Glen, sitting beside you, watched the exchanges with a kind of quiet pride, his gaze lingering on you whenever you spoke. At one point, he leaned closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re killing it. Remind me again—why am I not bringing you to all of these things?”

You smirked, taking a sip of water to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Because you know I’d upstage you.”

“Touché,” he said with a soft laugh, nudging your shoulder playfully.

As the dinner continued, Glen made sure to include you in every conversation, subtly steering the spotlight toward you when someone asked about his current projects. You found yourself talking about Glen’s work ethic and how he somehow managed to juggle it all without losing his sense of humor.

“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” Richard observed with a knowing smile.

“I sure hope so after I’ve put up with him for all these years,” you replied, glancing at Glen. “Someone has to keep him humble.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Glen shook his head, though the unmistakable warmth in his expression betrayed how much he loved every second of it.

When dessert was served—an artfully plated creation that was almost too pretty to eat—Glen leaned in once more, his tone playful but sincere. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not bad for someone who almost didn’t make it out of the hotel room.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening, “you belong here, you know.”

The weight of his words settled between you, a quiet affirmation that carried more meaning than the playful banter that had preceded it. You nodded, the nerves you’d been holding onto finally beginning to ease.

The awards show was nothing short of spectacular, a seamless blend of glamour, artistry, and showmanship. The host kept the audience entertained with clever quips and light-hearted jokes, while presenters took the stage to announce the winners in a variety of categories. The room buzzed with energy as names were called, winners delivered heartfelt speeches, and cameras panned over the crowd of celebrities.

Sitting beside Glen, you couldn’t help but notice how his leg bounced slightly under the table, a telltale sign of his nerves. Despite the outward appearance of ease he projected, you knew him well enough to see through it. Every now and then, his hand brushed his jawline, the slight stubble catching the light, as he glanced at the stage and back at you with an almost imperceptible smile.

You leaned closer to him during a quieter moment. “How are you holding up?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the applause filling the room.

“Better with you here,” he replied, his tone casual but sincere. The weight of his words sent a gentle warmth through you, grounding you as much as it did him.

As the night progressed, Glen laughed at the host’s jokes and applauded the winners, though you could feel his anticipation building as his category grew closer. 

The glitz and chatter around you seemed to blur as the presenter finally took the stage to announce the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy. 

You felt Glen shift in his seat, his back straightening as his name was called alongside the other nominees. His hand brushed his thigh, and you noticed him take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. Instinctively, you leaned in just enough so your shoulder lightly pressed against his, a silent reminder that you were right there with him.

The presenter opened the envelope, the seconds stretching impossibly long. “And the award goes to... Sebastian Stan!”

The room erupted into applause as Sebastian rose from his seat, making his way to the stage. You clapped along with everyone else, but the knot of disappointment in your chest was impossible to ignore. Letting out a small, defeated breath, you glanced over at Glen.

He was smiling politely, clapping for Sebastian, but you saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. The kind of flicker only someone who truly knew him could catch. Others at the table offered their own words of encouragement, but Glen only nodded politely, his attention still half-focused on the stage.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your voice low and meant just for him. “You’re still the most talented guy in the room.”

You reached over, resting your hand gently on his knee under the table, offering him the kind of comfort words alone couldn’t provide. For a moment, his gaze dropped to your hand, then back to your face. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hand briefly covered yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning.

Throughout the rest of the show, Glen leaned into your presence, subtly relying on you to keep him grounded. You noticed the way his body gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the night continued. 

When another winner gave a particularly heartfelt speech, Glen turned to you with a quiet chuckle. “At least I don’t have to worry about tripping on the way to the stage.”

You laughed softly, the sound drawing out a more genuine smile from him. “See? There’s always a silver lining.”

By the time the final award was announced and the audience began filtering out of the theater, Glen seemed more at ease. 

As the two of you stood to leave, he placed a hand on your back, guiding you through the crowd. “Thanks for keeping me sane tonight,” he said, his voice low but warm.

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the unspoken connection between you deepen as the evening came to a close.

The after-party was everything you expected it to be: glamorous, extravagant, and a little overwhelming. The main Golden Globes after-party felt less like a celebration and more like a carefully orchestrated networking event. The room was packed with A-list celebrities, producers, directors, and journalists, each armed with a drink in one hand and a carefully curated smile.

Music thumped in the background, but it barely registered over the hum of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Glen stayed by your side at first, introducing you to a few people here and there. You exchanged pleasantries with actors whose faces you recognized from the big screen and smiled politely at directors whose names you tried not to forget. 

But before long, Glen was pulled away, whisked from one conversation to the next like the star of the evening. You watched as he posed for pictures, his easy charm making every interaction look effortless. He’d glance back at you occasionally, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wink, but you could tell even he was beginning to feel the strain of the crowd.

You nursed a drink at the edge of the room, trying to stay out of the way while still keeping Glen in your sights. It was easy to lose track of time amidst the chaos, but the constant flow of strangers and small talk started to take its toll. The energy in the room felt electric and draining all at once, and you found yourself wishing for a quieter corner to catch your breath.

After what felt like hours, Glen appeared at your side, his hand lightly brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise around you. “This is… a lot, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a small laugh. “It’s a little overwhelming. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve smiled so much tonight my face might be stuck this way,” he joked, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced around the room, then back at you. “What do you say we head to my party? I think I’ve shaken enough hands and posed for enough pictures to last a lifetime.”

The suggestion was like a lifeline, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Glen’s shoulders relaxed visibly at your answer, and he gave you a small, grateful smile. He offered you his arm, the gesture both protective and grounding as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Despite the noise and flashing cameras still lingering near the doorway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The car ride to the rooftop bar was quiet, a welcome change from the chaos of the Golden Globes after-party. Glen leaned back against the seat, his shirt now unbuttoned to a second button and the faintest hint of exhaustion in his expression.

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “You know, most people would just go to bed after a night like this. Not go to another party.”

Glen chuckled, his head turning toward you. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

When the car pulled up to the rooftop bar, Glen stepped out first, turning back to offer you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go see everyone.”

The rooftop bar was stunning, its perimeter lined with fairy lights that cast a warm, golden glow. The city skyline sparkled in the distance, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. Glen had rented the entire space, and as the two of you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cheerful buzz of conversation.

His parents were the first to spot you, their faces lighting up as they hurried over to greet Glen with warm hugs and congratulations. 

His mom pulled you into an embrace as well, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You look stunning tonight, sweetheart. And thank you for taking care of our boy out there.”

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the ease that came with being around Glen’s family.

You scanned the room and spotted Leslie, Glen’s younger sister, waving excitedly from across the bar. She was all smiles as she made her way over, throwing her arms around you in a hug. 

“It’s been forever!” she exclaimed, pulling back to give you a once-over. “You look amazing! And that dress—ugh, you’re killing me.”

“You’re one to talk,” you teased, taking in her own dress. “You look incredible.”

Glen was quickly pulled into conversations with friends and other guests, his charm and warmth on full display as he moved through the room. You stayed behind with Leslie, the two of you settling into a quieter corner of the bar.

“So,” you said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell me everything about the engagement. I need details.”

Leslie’s face lit up, and she launched into a detailed recounting of the proposal—how her fiancé had asked, the secret planning, how he included her friends and family in on the surprise. She showed you the ring, a design that perfectly suited her, and the two of you gushed over wedding plans.

“I’m thinking late spring,” Leslie said, twirling her glass of wine between her fingers. “Something outdoors, simple but elegant. Glen keeps trying to offer to pay for everything, but I want to keep it low-key.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, smiling. “And knowing Glen, he’ll find a way to contribute whether you want him to or not.”

Leslie laughed, nodding. “Oh, I know. He’s the best, though. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Yeah, we really are.” Your gaze drifted across the room to where Glen was laughing with a small group of friends, his easy smile making your own lips curve upward. His hand was resting casually in the pocket of his suit pants.

“You’ve got that look again,” Leslie said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You blinked, snapping your gaze back to her. “What look?”

She grinned knowingly and nudged your arm with her elbow. “The ‘I’m totally into Glen but I’ll never admit it’ look.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? That’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh-huh,” Leslie said, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Sure I am.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to brush off her teasing. “He’s my best friend, Les. That’s-” But before you could finish your sentence, Glen glanced over at the two of you. His eyes found yours across the room, and when he smiled—soft, warm, and undeniably genuine—you felt your words falter. 

You didn’t even realize you had stopped speaking until Leslie let out a low chuckle.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely containing her laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

Realizing what just happened, you tore your gaze away from Glen, your face burning. 

“I do not,” you muttered, but the weak protest only made Leslie laugh harder.

She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Honestly, I’ve suspected this for years, but that little moment right there? Total confirmation.”

“Okay, enough,” you said, waving your hands as if to physically push the conversation away. “Let’s focus less on your brother and my nonexistent love life. Let’s get back to your wedding.”

Leslie just smirked, clearly not buying your denial. “Fine, but for the record? He’s totally into you too.”

You gave Leslie a confused look, followed by a doubtful laugh. “Yeah, right?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Leslie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your self-doubt. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be into you?” she asked, crossing her arms as if she were gearing up to debate.

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “I mean…look at him,” you said, gesturing vaguely in Glen’s direction. “He could have literally anyone he wants. Models, actresses, anyone. And I’m just…” You trailed off, shrugging.

Leslie tilted her head, studying you with a knowing smile. “Just what?” she pressed.

“Just me,” you finished weakly, feeling a little silly for saying it out loud.

Leslie let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. Second of all—” She paused, leaning in slightly for emphasis. “You’re the one he asked to be his date tonight. Not a model, not an actress, you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the truth of her words. “That’s just because we’re friends,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Friends,” Leslie repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because friends definitely look at each other the way he looks at you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again. “He does not look at me any type of way,” you insisted, but Leslie wasn’t buying it.

She smirked, nodding toward Glen, who was now making his way across the room in your direction.

“Sure he doesn’t,” she said, her voice teasing. “But just in case you’re still in denial, why don’t you pay attention when he gets over here? You’ll see what I mean.”

Before you could respond, Glen reached the two of you, his presence immediately drawing your attention. 

“Hey,” he said, flashing that easy smile of his. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal her for a bit?”

Leslie’s grin widened as she gave you a pointed look. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, stepping aside. “She’s all yours.”

You shot her a subtle glare, but Leslie just winked at you before turning to join the rest of the group. As Glen’s attention shifted back to you, your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze flicking over your face as if checking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just catching up with Leslie.”

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “She’s been excited to see you. I think she’s secretly more interested in hanging out with you than me tonight.”

You laughed, the sound helping to ease the tension swirling in your chest. “Well, to be fair, I am pretty great,” you teased, falling back into your usual banter with him.

“Can’t argue with that,” Glen said, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes that lingered a little too long, something that made your breath catch just slightly.

The atmosphere shifted subtly as the music transitioned to something slower, a beat just mellow enough to set a softer, almost romantic mood. The chatter in the room seemed to quiet slightly, replaced by the rhythmic sway of the melody. Glen glanced toward the small dance floor, where a few of his friends were starting to pair off, and then turned back to you.

“Come on,” he said, extending a hand toward you, his smile warm and inviting.

You shook your head immediately, taking a small step back. “You know I don’t dance,” you reminded him, your voice firm but playful.

His grin only widened, clearly undeterred. “And you know I don’t take no for an answer,” he teased, stepping closer and gently taking your hand before you could protest further.

“Glen,” you said, a hint of exasperation in your tone, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, glancing back at you. “I’ll lead. All you have to do is follow.”

You sighed in resignation, realizing there was no escaping this. When you reached the dance floor, you placed a hand on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. He wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“You’ve done this before,” he said lightly as he started to guide you to the rhythm of the music.

“Once or twice,” you admitted, though you still felt slightly self-conscious. “But I’m warning you—I’m not great at it.”

“You’re doing fine,” he assured you, his voice low and steady, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Leslie standing by the bar. She was watching you with an unmistakable smirk, her arms crossed in triumph. When your eyes met hers, she gave you a knowing look, the kind that said, See? Told you so.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head, trying to silently tell her to knock it off. Glen noticed the exchange, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced over at Leslie and then back down at you. 

“What am I missing?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your cheeks were already starting to warm.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, his tone teasing now. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Leslie’s just…being Leslie,” you said vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.

But Glen wasn’t letting it go. He tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as realization started to dawn on him. 

“Wait a minute…” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Is she messing with you about something?”

“Not really,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Not really?” he repeated, clearly unconvinced. His eyes flicked back toward Leslie, who was now openly grinning at the two of you. “Oh, she’s definitely messing with you about something,” he said with a laugh.

You groaned, your head dropping slightly as you muttered, “I’m going to kill her.”

Glen chuckled, his hand on your waist giving a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, his tone playful but his smile soft.

For a moment, you forgot about Leslie entirely, your focus shifting back to Glen as you moved together in time with the music. His gaze lingered on you, his expression unexpectedly tender, and you felt your heart skip in a way that made you wonder if Leslie might actually have a point after all.

As the slower song faded out, you felt a moment of relief. But then the next song started, and your heart sank a little as the unmistakable notes of a love ballad filled the air. The kind that spoke of longing and intimacy, the kind that made you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were still in Glen’s arms.

You glanced up at him, your lips parting to excuse yourself, but before you could step away, his hand on your back shifted, a gentle but deliberate pressure that kept you in place.

“Stay,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Glen, I—” you started, already shaking your head. There was no way you could dance to a love song with your best friend. It felt too…loaded.

“Just one more,” he murmured, and when your eyes met his, whatever protest you had ready fell away. There was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a friendly look. It was softer, deeper, and for a moment, it left you breathless.

You nodded, barely, and he smiled—just a small, private curve of his lips that made your stomach flip.

He pulled you just a little closer this time, close enough that your chest brushed against his. The hold on your back shifted, his hand sliding just slightly lower, resting at the curve where your back met your waist. It wasn’t inappropriate—just enough to feel a little less like friendship and a little more like something else.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your cheek resting lightly against his chest. His warmth was comforting, grounding, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the song and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You felt him tilt his head, the faintest brush of his cheek against the top of yours. It was such a small gesture, but it sent your heart into a quiet frenzy, a rhythm that seemed to echo in time with the music.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, swaying gently to the melody. The first verse passed, then the chorus, and you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt to be here, like the rest of the world had melted away.

The song came to an end, the final notes fading into a hum of conversation and clinking glasses around you. Glen didn’t move right away, and for a moment, neither did you. You stayed in his arms, feeling the warmth of his hand still pressed against your back, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

But then someone called his name from across the room, breaking the fragile bubble that had surrounded you both. Glen’s arm slipped away, though his hand lingered on your elbow for a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on yours, as if reluctant to leave.

You nodded, offering a small smile, and watched as he crossed the room to greet a new arrival. The absence of his touch left you feeling untethered, a sudden awareness of just how much you’d let yourself melt into him during that dance.

Needing a moment to collect yourself—and maybe something stronger than a moment of quiet—you made your way to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and took a steadying sip, trying to push the last few minutes out of your mind.

Of course, Leslie found you before you even made it halfway through your drink.

“So,” she started, leaning casually against the bar with an unmistakable smirk. “That was…something.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the blush already creeping up your neck. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she asked innocently, though her grin was anything but. “I’m just saying, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother look at someone like that. Or hold someone like that. Or—”

“Leslie,” you warned, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at composure.

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying, for someone who insists she doesn’t dance, you looked awfully comfortable out there dancing with my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you replied, taking another sip of your wine in a futile attempt to drown your nerves.

“Doesn’t it?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like something more.”

You shot her a sharp look, but she just shrugged, still grinning.

“Relax,” she said, nudging your arm playfully. “I’m not about to make a big announcement or anything. But if you don’t see it yet…” She trailed off, giving you a knowing look before gesturing subtly toward Glen, who was still across the room, laughing with a small group of friends.

You followed her gaze despite yourself, and your heart gave a traitorous little lurch at the sight of him. His smile was easy and charming, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward the bar, as if checking to see if you were still there.

“See what I mean?” Leslie said softly, pulling your attention back to her.

You shook your head, trying to play it off. “You’re reading into things.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her tone light but her expression serious. “Because I’ve known Glen my whole life, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. So, maybe it’s time you stop convincing yourself it’s all in your head.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself speechless, staring down into your glass of wine as if it held the answers you were so desperately trying to avoid.

Leslie let the silence linger for a moment before giving your arm another playful nudge. “Just think about it, okay?”

And with that, she pushed off the bar and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts—and the undeniable truth you were no longer sure you could ignore.

You stepped away from the bar, glass of wine in hand, and gravitated toward a quieter corner of the rooftop. The laughter and conversation from the party grew softer with every step, the music fading into a pleasant hum in the background. A gentle breeze brushed against your skin as you approached the railing, the Los Angeles skyline glittering like a sea of stars before you.

You leaned against the cool metal and took a slow sip of your wine, your thoughts drifting back to Leslie’s words. Was she onto something? No, she couldn’t be. Glen was your best friend, the one constant in your life through every twist and turn. You would know if he felt something for you… right?

But then again…

You sighed and rested your elbow on the railing, pressing your glass lightly to your lips. Leslie had known Glen her entire life. If anyone could read him, it was her. And the way she spoke—like she’d been holding onto this knowledge for a while—left you with an uncomfortable sense of doubt.

Could she be right? Could you really have missed something that big?

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts. You looked over, expecting another party guest, but instead, you found Glen standing beside you. The velvet tuxedo jacket was now off, and his hair was a little mussed from probably running his hand through it one too many times, but his smile was warm and familiar.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning casually against the railing next to you. “You okay?”

You managed a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calm and steady, before arching a brow. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Leslie pestering you at the bar, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen said, clearly not buying it. “Because Leslie may or may not have told me to come find you.”

Your heart gave a jolt, and you turned to look at him. “She what?”

“She didn’t say why,” Glen added quickly, holding up a hand as if to reassure you. “But… she said…enough.”

“Enough?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his smile fading into something softer, something more sincere. “Enough to make me realize I’ve been putting this off for too long.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Glen stepped closer. His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to gauge your reaction before saying anything else. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice low. “For coming with me tonight. For being here for me—not just tonight, but always.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“And I need you to know,” he continued, taking another step closer, “how much you mean to me.”

The space between you was nearly nonexistent now, and for a moment, neither of you said a word. His eyes searched yours, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

You felt it then—that shift Leslie had hinted at, the one you’d been too afraid to fully acknowledge. This wasn’t just your best friend standing in front of you. This was Glen, the man who had been at your side for years, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

He took a deep breath and leaned in slightly, pausing when your noses were almost touching. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you met his gaze, your heart thundering in your chest.

Glen’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and then his eyes fluttered shut as he raised a hand to your face. His palm was warm as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You closed your eyes just as his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and placed a hand lightly against his chest, he deepened the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you faded—the music, the laughter, the skyline. All that mattered was the way Glen’s lips moved against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, processing what had just happened. Glen’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft, absentminded circles against your skin. Your heart raced, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the surreal, breathtaking reality of the moment.

Finally, Glen broke the silence, his lips curving into that familiar, playful grin that always managed to put you at ease. “So…” he began, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity from before. “Does this mean you’ll let me take you to next year’s Globes too?”

The laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, breaking the tension in the most perfect way. You shook your head, resting your forehead against his chest as a smile spread across your lips. “We’ll see if you behave, Cowboy.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. “Behave? I’m a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice tinged with mock indignation.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arching a brow. “Oh, really? Perfect gentlemen don’t usually kiss their best friends on rooftops in the middle of a party.”

His grin widened as he shrugged, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. “Maybe I got tired of being just your best friend.”

Your breath caught again at the sincerity in his tone, the way his teasing words carried so much truth. Glen had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a flirtatious comment, but this felt different. This felt real.

You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but instead of pushing, Glen just smiled and leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead. And with that, he stepped back slightly, though his hand still lingered on your waist, as if to let you know that even with the space between you, he was still there, still yours.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. The smile that still lingered on his lips wasn’t one of teasing; it was genuine, like he was relieved to have crossed that line with you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, your voice quieter than usual. “This is... a lot to take in, you know?”

Glen nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress, a small gesture that seemed to ground you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get it.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a brief moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself truly hear what he was saying. The uncertainty that had clouded your mind earlier began to dissipate, replaced by something far more powerful—trust.

“I just don’t want to mess things up, Glen,” you admitted, looking up at him again, your voice low but clear. “We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to lose that.”

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb now tracing along your jawline as he spoke, his voice steady. “We won’t lose it,” he promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, the sincerity in his words making your heart swell. “Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling like a vow in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if the world had paused just for you two. It was peaceful, despite everything—the chaos of the party, the swirling emotions inside you. Glen was here, right in front of you, and he was offering you something more. Something you hadn’t expected but couldn’t deny.

Then, in the silence that followed, he grinned, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. “So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a date?”

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled with excitement. He was waiting, his expression open and genuine, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like anything was uncertain anymore. The nerves, the doubts—they melted away in the warmth of his gaze.

"Yeah," you said softly, your voice filled with the quiet confidence that had come from years of friendship and, somehow, this unexpected moment. "I'd like that."

His smile deepened, and for a second, it was as if time stood still. He reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it shy. It was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. You both stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, as if savoring the moment before the world could rush back in.

"Come on," Glen said, pulling you gently by the hand, “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

As he led you back toward the party, his fingers intertwined with yours, and the moment felt complete. You’d crossed the line, yes, but it was the best kind of line to cross—one that made you excited for whatever came next.

You shared one last look, a silent promise between you two, before re-entering the party, side by side, ready for whatever the night—and your future—held.

[witherby]

I really want to see Littlest Wayne having more interactions with the justice league, especially Hal! That bit of him getting emotional after the baby says his name was adorable 😭

You don't have to tell me twice. Get ready to get a lot of uncles and aunts 🤭 featuring more Bruce x Hal because I'm shameless

Slightly spoilerly warning: ⚠️ Emetophobia ⚠️

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Team

Masterlist is Here!

"Oh! No. No, I don't — I'm good, actually. No thanks."

Clark gives Hal a curious look, but doesn't try to pass you over to him after that initial rejection. He smiles down at you and goes back to gently tracing the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of your nose. Your eyes droop almost immediately, then you're asleep a minute later.

"They're beautiful, Bruce," Diana says, clapping a hand against his back. Bruce, to his credit, barely stumbles.

"No names in costume," he says.

"You literally brought us your infant child to coo at," Barry chimes in, cracking open a bag of chips. "They're in a Cookie Monster onesie. I think we can let it slide just the once."

"Hnn," Bruce mutters. He lets the edges of his cape fall over his chest, cloaking his limbs and torso until he looks like one, solid shape. "Only the once."

Barry grins, zipping past him to stand in front of Clark and gush over your snoozing form. Oliver held you for a minute when Bruce first showed up to introduce you to the team, then Dinah stole you from him and peppered kisses all over your face until you were squealing with laughter. J'onn carefully held you how he was instructed and told everyone you were thinking about how colorful they each looked. Arthur jokingly asked if Bruce wanted him to baptize you. Arthur swiftly lost his baby privileges. Then Diana held you kind of like someone weighing a ham, nodded once, called you "phenomenal," and handed you off to Clark, where you currently remain.

It was a little curious to see Hal so vehemently refuse to hold you when, as far as Bruce can see, he hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been in the Watchtower. Even more curiously, before Clark did that little nose trick to get you to sleep, you'd been staring right back at him.

Bruce could go Full Investigation Mode on this, but he understands that it might be a bit much to do to someone he's only been seeing for, like, ten weeks. They haven't even talked about labels yet.

So he does a small guilt trip instead.

Just a small one. Microscopic, really.

Completely harmless.

When he holds out his arms for you, Clark reluctantly surrenders, and you snuggle up to your father with a soft huff. Bruce delicately thumbs over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you, then carries you over to Hal and puts his very harmless plan into motion.

"It's a shame you hate my baby."

Hal looks like he got shot. Guilt Trip Plan: 6/10, too traumatizing. Refine for future use.

"I'm kidding," Bruce says, trying to cushion the blow. "Calm down."

"Jesus, Spooky," Hal mutters, rubbing his temples, "do you ever just ask normal questions outright?"

"Of course I do," Bruce says. "Last night, when we were both free, I asked you if you were interested in having se—"

"Okay!" He waves his hands, glancing at you with panicked eyes, which Bruce finds absurd. You're barely old enough to comprehend the fact that you have a body, let alone the ability to start processing language. You don't even know your name. You do kind of recognize Bruce's voice, but mainly when he's changing or feeding you, and only by his tone. It's all just senseless noise for you, otherwise, stimuli you allow to wash over you without putting conscious thought to it.

Bruce sighs and takes a smaller step closer to Hal. Hal takes a step back.

"I'm very curious about where this is coming from," Bruce says, choosing to be blunt. "You're fantastic with children, in and out of costume."

He takes another step forward. Hal takes another step back.

"Yeah, sure — kids and stuff — not babies," Hal says. "Kids can walk and talk and aren't...y'know, breakable."

"The baby isn't made of glass, Lantern."

One step forward. One step back.

"I know that! But they're also, y'know...just there. Kids are just tiny people. Babies are babies."

One step forward. One step back.

"I feel obligated to inform you that babies are also classified as people. They have social security numbers, birth certificates —"

One step forward. One step back.

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me."

"I'm trying to know what you mean, actually. It's not like you don't want to hold them, I can see in your face that you do. The question is why you won't."

One step forward. One step back.

"Bruce, I need you to turn that gorgeous detective brain off for ten seconds and realize how intense you're being. I'm literally being backed into a corner."

Bruce stops walking. Hal can't walk back anymore because he's flush against the wall. Oops.

He acquiesces with a step back and turns his focus back on you. Your eyes are twitching under the lids. He wonders what you're dreaming about.

"This child is mine," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not asking you to step up and play stepfather, Hal, but this is a package deal. Them, and my boys. If that's too much...if that's a deal breaker —"

"Oh," Hal says, "no. Hey, no, of course it isn't! I'm not like that, B, I'm just — I've never — ugh."

He wills the domino mask away so he can rub his eyes, groaning, then shakes his head.

"They always puke!"

Bruce pauses. Thinks. Comes up empty. "Elaborate."

"Babies! Every time I hold a baby, they vomit on me. It's like some horrible magic trick or something, but I swear to you, I've never held a baby and it be able to keep its formula down."

Hal looks very distressed as he admits this, gesturing emphatically to get his point across. Bruce finds it endearing.

"Babies are the most adorable things on the planet. You think I don't wanna take them from you and snuggle up on the couch all day? I do! But they're gonna hurl about it!"

"Okay."

"I swear I'm not lyi— okay?"

"Okay," Bruce says. "I don't want you to get puked on, and I don't want to clean up more baby vomit than I have to. It stains absolutely everything it touches. It's a nightmare." He shifts his weight, rocking you slowly when you start to fuss. Is it a bad dream, or do you feel stuffy in the onesie? He'll take you home and get you down in the crib, soon. "But that's good to know. We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Hal says. "You aren't upset?"

"No. In fact, thank you for admitting it. I would have been pissed if you made my baby spit up and didn't warn me ahead of time."

Hal snorts. Bruce cracks a small smile, looking back down at your sleeping form. You seem to be settling again.

"So you'll have to wait a little longer to say hi to uncle Hal," he murmurs. "That's fine."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but if he's Uncle Hal, can I be Uncle Clark?" The Kryptonian asks, almost shyly as he floats over. "Also, I didn't make the baby spit up. Can I hold 'em again?"

"We get to be uncles?? Hell yesssss," Barry says, pumping his fist.

"I will be the most impressive uncle among you," Diana declares, cracking her knuckles. "How do we battle for such a title?"

"You're an Auntie, Di."

"Then I will be the most impressive auntie among you."

"I think we're all just gonna let you have that one. You win."

Diana smiles, triumphant.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

[rustle, rustle]

Lilia: Heeey, Malleuuus～ Come out, come out, wherever you are～ Sebek's about to burst into tears 'cause he can't find you～

Jade: I was curious what you were up to what with your fervent rustling through the hedges… I see, you were searching for Malleus-san.

Lilia: Oh, Jade. We're supposed to be having an important meeting in the dorm right now, but he's nowhere to be found.

Jade: My, an important meeting? How fascinating. Is there some pressing issue?

Lilia: Nothing dire. Actually, the Pop Music Club decide to throw together an impromptu birthday performance tomorrow!

Lilia: And we wouldn't want it to clash with the party we're hosting at the dorm, right? So, we wanted to make sure the schedules lined up.

Jade: Aah… So that's what it was. Speaking of the Pop Music Club, I found the performance they gave during the freshmen club orientation to be utterly captivating.

Jade: To think you were putting in this much effort behind the scenes to make it happen. I'm sure this one will be just as hilar― splendid as last time.

Lilia: Well, yeah, we're gonna go all out and rock on! It'll be in our club room like usual, though.

Lilia: There's no admission to come see us this time. You should come and witness my amazingly passionate screamo.

Jade: Fufufu, just hearing you speak of it is giving me quite the thrill. I definitely will be coming by.

Lilia: Kheeheehee, I'll be waiting. …Oookay, I need to get back to searching for Malleus. See ya, Jade.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

[Diasomnia Students chatter]

Lilia: ―Everyone, I found Malleus. Just as I thought, he hadn't realized it was the meeting time already.

Lilia: Now, we might be a little late, but we'll start the meeting now! We need to quickly chat through the important stuff, since we're short on time.

Lilia: For our Housewarden's sake, we'll start with the agenda for today…

[Diasomnia Student A speaks]

Lilia: …Hm? You've already spoken through the topics? You all thought it would be rude to bother Malleus with this meeting?

Lilia: So you're saying… I DIDN'T NEED TO GO LOOKING FOR MALLEUS～?!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: Whew. It's a struggle having so many model students taking initiative...

Lilia: Well, now I'm done with my shower. I'm not taking one step out of my room anymore.

Lilia: Let's gooo, the sun's set already so I'm feelin' at the top of my game. My day finally starts now!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: First, I'll do all my daily quests for my game… Huh, where's my keyboard? I swear I had it here yesterday…

[rustle, rustle]

Lilia: Ohh, here it is. It just got completely buried under this stack of papers.

Lilia: There sure are a ton of papers scattered about. This is a test from last year, and that's something I got my first year here. Oh, and this…

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Lilia: A survey? …Oh right, Crowley was practically demanding that it gets filled in.

Lilia: I was ignoring it, since I couldn't really think of anything to write. I guess I should finish it up before it gets buried under things again.

Lilia: But even so, what am I supposed to request…? We're kept out of the rain and wind, and have fully working AC. I also have an abundance of time to spend eating or enjoying myself.

Lilia: I am able to watch over my family learn, while surrounded by friends. It would be too greedy to ask for anything more.

Lilia: I'll just write, "I have no issues with the current quality of life," and―

[clatter, clatter…!]

[CRASH!]

[THUD! BAM!]

Lilia: Things just keep falling off their little piles whenever I turn around. …But hey, it's no big, since it's not interfering with me at all!

[knock, knock]

Lilia: Hm? Looks like someone's here, and so late at night. Coming! I'll open the door so hold on a sec.

[Diasomnia Student B speaks]

Lilia: Oh, it's just my neighbors. Don't worry, there's no problems here.

[Diasomnia Students leave]

Lilia: Dear me, that's the problem with stone buildings, they make even the smallest noise echo so loudly. Especially when it's quieter at night.

Lilia: Whenever I'd play my instrument, there'd be an uproar about some kind of terrifying sounds echoing night after night.

Lilia: All I was doing each day was playing a little drums while doing a little dance… Dorm life sure can be difficult to get used to.

Lilia: If I didn't have to deal with that, then I could watch movies at full volume, or stream video games…

Lilia: Ohh, I guess this is something I can add to the survey. "Sound travels too easily. I'd like to install a soundproofing system.

Lilia: What else…? Ah! I don't have time to be doing this. I'll miss my consecutive login bonus. I need to log in to the game right now!

Muscle Red: Farewell, see you next raid.

Lilia: Today's drop rate was trash… On days like this, it's best to just cut my losses and not keep going.

Lilia: Before I turn off my computer, I think I'll check out that online crane game. Sometimes they have some real fun prizes there.

Lilia: Ooh, that plushie armrest looks cute! How many people are waiting in line…? Oh, just one. Perfect, I'll join the queue then.

Lilia: I never thought there'd come a day where I'd be able to play a crane game from the comforts of my room.

Lilia: It has so many different things, from snacks to everyday objects, and even gives a free play for logging in. Someone thought this through real well.

Lilia: Even these dragon feet slippers I'm wearing now was something I won from using those free play tickets.

Lilia: Oh, it's finally my turn. This little plushie looks like it has a heavy head, so… I'll start by dropping the crane around here!

Lilia: Take that! …Nice, it moved like I wanted. Then now, I'll aim for the same place one more time―

Lilia: ―Now I'm just feeling waaaay exhausted… Even after it felt like it would almost fall, it still took a long time to get there.

Lilia: Everything came out alright in the end, since I got it, but… Looks like it wasn't just the drop rate in the game earlier, my luck is just no good today.

Lilia: But I was able to get what I wanted, so I'm happy with that. Winning it when I wasn't expecting it is just another kind of fun.

Lilia: Well, I guess next I'll continue watching that one drama on the streaming site… Hm? What's this recommended video…?

Lilia: My favorite band just released a new song! I gotta check out their music video right away!

Lilia: Kheeheehee, there's still so much I get to do tonight. I love how every single day is packed full of fun things.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: Urrrgh… Urh… Bright… …Why's there sunlight?

Lilia: Oh, I forgot to close the curtains… ...Tch. …Disgusting…

Lilia: ...Ah, no, I should get up… Hrrrnnngh, so briiight!

Lilia: In the end, I wasn't even able to do half of what I wanted to do. Night sure does pass quickly…

Lilia: If I just get everything ready with magic, I could fall back asleep now and still make it in time for class… Or not, I'd probably just end up sleeping in.

Lilia: I guess I'll head to the washroom to try and wake up.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Washroom]

[splash]

Lilia: Whew! The water in the wintertime is so chilly that it wakes me right up. Now, next is…

[Diasomnia Student C speaks]

Lilia: Oh hey, good morning. I see you've come to the washroom as well, this morning. …Hm? What am I doing?

Lilia: It's skincare, S-K-I-N-C-A-R-E! You shouldn't skimp on it, you know～? For example, I'm going to…

Lilia: Hm? Was I supposed to start with this watery stuff first? Or was it the more paste-like stuff?

Lilia: …Eh, shouldn't matter which goes on first! Once they're on my skin, it'll all end up the same.

Lilia: 'Kay, skincare done! As for the makeup… Ooh, right, I should try to do the clumpy eyelash I saw in a video the other day.

Lilia: I'll just use magic to toss on my eyeshadow. Done. The eyelash curler is… Ah, here it is.

Lilia: First, I need to make sure my eyelashes are standing straight up. Like―

Lilia: …Ouch! I caught my eyelid! The road to cosmetic beauty sure is filled with pain and patience…

Lilia: Once I brush the little hairs, I need to apply mascara to make them longer before they lose their structure.

Lilia: Then, I'll use the tweezers. I need to make little clumps before the mascara dries―

Lilia: And there we go, I've given myself the doll-like eyelashes that's all the rage with the young folks these days!

Lilia: Hehe, it really goes well with my big and bright eyes.

Lilia: Next is fixing my hair style. I'll just apply some silky smooth hair milk all over my head, and…

Lilia: Then poof it to completion with a bit of magic. Kheeheehee, I look splendid, befitting of what a birthday boy should look like!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lilia's Room]

Lilia: Okay, time to get chan… Ouch! Uuuurrrrg… My pinky toe… What numbskull left an amp right in the middle of the walking path!?

Lilia: …Right, this is my room, so the culprit can only be myself. Why does it feel like this room just feels smaller than before?

Lilia: Should I get more storage?

Lilia: …Nah, if I'm going to buy any furniture, I should prioritize getting a small tea table for when Silver and the others come to visit.

Lilia: …Haha, listen to me now. When I was filling out the survey, I thought I was satisfied with everything as they are, but…

Lilia: I can still think of more things I want, and even more things I want to do. Now, when did I learn to wish for such extravagance?

[Main Street]

Jade: Good morning, Lilia-san. Was yesterday's meeting able to go off without a hitch?

Lilia: Morning, Jade. Both the party and the performance are ready to go. Today is going to be a real fun day.

Jade: Fufu, I am certainly looking forward to see what sort of performance we'll be… blessed with today. A very Happy Birthday to you.

Lilia: Right-o! Make sure you have the time of your life during today's performance, too!

Requested by @kingren77.

[insidekatmind]

A Rainy Night and a Game of Truth or Dare~ Jadon Sancho

Request: yes!

The storm outside howled as rain lashed against the windows of Sancho's house. Inside, the living room was warm and filled with laughter, snacks scattered across the coffee table, and a group of friends gathered in a circle on the floor.

Someone — probably Noni, with his wild ideas — had suggested they play Truth or Dare to spice up the night. The game had been harmless fun at first, with silly dares and embarrassing truths. But things took an unexpected turn when someone pulled out a bottle to make the dares more interesting.

Sancho's friend, Cole, spun the bottle with a mischievous grin. It whirled and twirled, capturing everyone's attention until it finally slowed… and stopped.

It pointed directly at you and Sancho.

A chorus of gasps and giggles erupted from the group.

"Alright, here’s the dare," Cole announced, her eyes gleaming. "You two… ten minutes in the closet. Together."

Sancho immediately shot up from his spot on the floor. "Nah, am I seriously going to have to stay here with her?"

His friends laughed, blocking his escape. Noni stepped in front of the door, arms spread wide. "Oh no, Sancho. Rules are rules. You know that!"

"But this is stupid!" Sancho groaned. He turned toward you, as if seeking an ally. But you just shrugged, amused by how desperate he looked.

"Come on, Sancho," Cole tased. "What’s the worst that could happen? It’s only ten minutes."

Realizing he had no way out, Sancho sighed heavily and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Fine."

His friends cheered as they opened the closet door. Sancho stepped inside reluctantly, and you followed. The door closed behind you with a soft click, cutting off the laughter from outside.

The closet was dark and cramped, filled with the scent of cedar wood and faint traces of cologne from Sancho’s jackets. He leaned against one wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"So… what do we do now?" he mumbled.

You shrugged again, leaning back against the opposite wall. "I don’t know. You’re the one who wanted to leave so badly. Why don’t you come up with something?"

He rolls his eyes, sighing and trying to think of something to do* "I’m bored." Sancho mumbled, looking around and then back at you.

"Isn’t there something we can do to get the time to go faster?" he crosses his arms again, looking away from you and looking at the ceiling

"What do you want to do?"

Sancho looks back at you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and looking at you with a sarcastic smile on his face

"What do you think I want to do?" He looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, I'm not in your brain" you say sarcastically

Jadon chuckles, still looking at you, his eyes on you as he takes a step towards you and slowly starts approaching you, looking at you smugly

"You don’t even have a hint of what I want?"

He continued to approach you, getting closer and closer

he smirks, now right in front of you, so close that your bodies are almost touching. He continues to smirk, looking down at you and leaning in a bit closer

"I think you should." he responds, still with the same smirk.

the smirk was still on his face as he leaned even closer to you, until he’s almost pinning you to the wall. He looked you up and down, still with his smirk, his body almost on yours

"Don’t you even have a guess?" He asks again, his smirk still on his face

"should I?" you tease him. Jadon lets out a laugh, his smirk widening, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes and leaning in ever closer, so close that one of his hands reaches out, gently holding onto your waist

"You’re very good at teasing, aren’t you?"

He lets out a laugh, his smirk widening, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes and leaning in ever closer, so close that one of his hands reaches out, gently holding onto your waist*

"You’re very good at teasing, aren’t you?"

"maybe" you look at him amused. Jadonlaughs, looking you up and down again and then back at your eyes, a slight smirk still on his face and one of his hands still on your waist

"You are definitely very good at teasing, princess." he says amusedly.

Jadon slowly, very slowly, began to start closing the distance between your bodies, pressing himself a bit more against you, both of his hands on your waist now

"You know, you look very cute when you tease me like that." you get closer to him

Jadon laughs again, his smirk widening as he feels your body against his. He looks down at you, his hands on your hips, pushing himself against you, his body flush against yours

"You’re cute, you know that?" He says amused

Jadon looks down at you, his smirk turning into a slight, soft smile, his hands still on your hips and his body pushed against you.

"You’re adorable, princess." he responds, his voice slightly quieter now, looking at your face and his eyes traveling down.

His hands slowly start to move up your body, from your hips to your back, his eyes following them as they go up.

"You know, we still have a few minutes left."

"So why don't we make the most of them?" .he laughs, looking at you with a sly smirk, his eyebrows raised. He leans in, his face getting closer to yours, his hands moving to your hips again, gently gripping them

"Oh, I like the sound of that."

Jadon laughs, looking at you with a sly smirk, his eyebrows raised. He leans in, his face getting closer to yours, his hands moving to your hips again, gently gripping them

"Oh, I like the sound of that." He moves closer to your face, his nose almost touching yours, his lips close to your ear. He whispers in your ear softly

"How about we make these last few minutes the most interesting minutes of this game? He laughs softly

"I'd be happy" you whisper. Sancho responds by getting even closer to your face, his nose almost touching yours. He chuckles, his eyes darting down to your lips before going back to your eyes, a smirk on his face

"Do you think you can handle that, princess?" "Try me"

Jadon laughs again, amused by your response. He looks at you with a smile on his face, a bit of a challenge on his eyes.

"You’re playing with fire, princess." He says quietly. He moves his hands to your hips again, gripping them, his face still close to yours, his lips just inches away, his smirk growing

"You’re being bold, princess. Am I rubbing off on you?"

"go on" you whisper. He lets out a laugh, amused by your response and your boldness. He moves a bit closer towards you, closing what little distance is left between your bodies and gently gripping your hips, his face now only inches away from yours

"Oh, I think I definitely am rubbing off on you, princess."

Jadon moves one of his hands up to your face, gently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and his other hand still on your hip. He looks down at you, his smirk ever so slightly growing

"You know, I kind of like this bold version of you, princess."

you look at him mischievously and stroke his hair. Jadon lets out a low chuckle, amused by the feeling of you stroking his hair. He leans in a bit more, his lips just a few millimeters away from yours

"Are you getting cocky all of a sudden?" he asks, his smirk still ever-present.

smile and kiss him. He freezes for a second as you kiss him, surprised by your boldness for a moment, but he immediately kisses you back, his hands moving from your hips to your face, gently cupping your face as he kisses you back.

Jadon pulls away, breaking the kiss for a moment so that he can look at your face, a smile on his face, his hands still on your face, gently cupping it

"You're being very daring today, princess." He says, his voice low and soft.

"and you like this" you say mischievously. He laughs, looking at you and still with a bit of a smirk

"Oh yeah, I definitely like this new you." he moves his hands from your face back to your hips, gently gripping them again.

Jadon laughs, looking at you and still with a bit of a smirk"Oh yeah, I definitely like this new you."

He moves his hands from your face back to your hips, gently gripping them again.

"I could say the same thing" you whisper and suck his bottom lip. Jadon lets out a low chuckle, amused by your response, but still trying to maintain his demeanor. A slight shiver runs through his body as you gently suck on his bottom lip, the sensation sending a pleasant feeling through him

"Careful, princess. You're really getting bold."

smile and kiss his jaw. He shivers slightly as you kiss his jaw, the feeling of your lips on his skin sending a bolt of electricity through him. He closes his eyes for a moment, before opening them again to look at you.

"You’re making this really difficult for me to be this whole nonchalant, arrogant thing, you know that?"

Jadon lets out a laugh, trying to maintain his smirk while at the same time trying to hide the effect you’re having on him, his hands gripping your hips a bit tighter

"You don’t realize how hard you’re making it for me to keep up the whole ‘sarcastic, nonchalant’ act. You’re making it really difficult for me to not just-“

He breaks off mid sentence, cutting himself off before he said something incriminating

"just?" you whisper seductively. Jadon freezes for a second again as you say that, a shiver running through his body at the tone of your voice. He pauses for a moment before answering, a hint of a smirk on his face

"Just shut you up. In the best way possible." he responds jokingly, his tone clearly masking a bit of desire.

You look at him seductively and move closer to him "I don't think so".

He laughs softly, clearly noticing that you’re trying to get a reaction from him. He looks at you with a smirk, his eyes running over your face

"Don’t you? You should be careful, princess. You’re making this really hard for me to control myself around you."

Jadon looks at you for a moment, his eyes looking down at your face before gently gripping your hips, pulling you a bit closer to him. He looks at you, his eyes holding something like a challenge in them

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?” he mutters looking at you

"Yes" you respond with a little smile

He lets out a soft laugh, his eyes still looking into yours. The look on his face is a mix of amusement and a bit of frustration, his hands still on your hips

"You’re doing a damn good job at it. And you know exactly what you’re doing too, don’t you princess?"

Jadon moves a little closer to you again, his body almost flush against yours, his hands gripping your hips a bit tighter

"You’re really testing my limits, princess. You’re really pushing it.”

you smile and kiss his jaw "time is running out"

Jadon shivers a bit as you kiss his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again to look at you. There’s a mixture of desire and irritation in his eyes, and he lets out a slight laugh

"Oh, you’re just trying to provoke me at this point, aren’t you? Teasing me and pushing my buttons."

You go down to his neck and kiss him .

Jadon closes his eyes again as you move to his neck, your lips on his skin sending a jolt through him, a low, almost involuntary moan escaping his lips, which he quickly tries to cover up but fails

"You’re making this hard. So damn hard. You know that, don’t you? You know what you’re doing to me.”

"maybe" you tease him and give him a hickey. Time's up and you're out of the closet

Jadon lets out a soft curse as you give him a hickey, shutting his eyes for a moment and letting out a soft, very quiet, moan. He slowly opens his eyes, looking at you with a look that looks a bit like a combination of irritation and desire*

"Damn it, princess. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep that up."

He lets out a frustrated but amused laugh, running his hand through his hair and looking at you with an expression of slight anger but clear desire in his eyes, frustrated and a bit annoyed that you got the best of him

"Yeah, the game is over. You’re going to be the death of me, you know that princess?"

You came out of the closet and your friends Noni and Cole they were watching you. Sancho follows you out of the closet, coming face to face with Noni and Cole, who are both looking between the two of you, a very clear look of amusement on both of their faces.

He tries to maintain his demeanor, his usual cocky and nonchalant expression crossing his face, but it’s clear that he’s a bit worked up. HIs friends are clearly enjoying this, giving him looks that say ‘nice job, dude.’ Noni looks at you and then looks at him, her expression screaming the words ‘oh, you’re so screwed.’ Cole looks amused, and gives the two of you a look that clearly says ‘oooooh, trouble.’

Sancho tries to play it off, rolling his eyes and giving them a look that says ‘knock it off.’ The two of them continue to look very amused, Noni laughing quietly to herself, and Cole giving him a smirk

[unknownati]

xii. never lose me

a/n: (i lost the ask so sorry to that anon, hope u still find this 💀 but the ask was like: can you make a fic based off never lose me by flo milli? with smut)

happy new year my loves!

sorry this took so long im such a slow writer. plus im braindead asf. ik i said i had to proofread this in my last post but i lied i didnt 😬

nooobody ask me where he got all this money cuz baby idk. i hope some of this stuff is correct bc i am not rich 😭

warnings/tags: smut 👻, fem!black!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features BUT reader dresses feminine (think aliyahsinterlude), modern!ekko, boat sex yay, semi-public(?), risky, backshots 🎉, oral (e! recieving), reader getting spoiled, soft dom!ekko, so loosely inspired by the song, not proofread. raw vibe

_______________________________________________

ekko goes above and beyond treating you right.

anything you want, all yours. that new purse? check your mailbox. you need your nails done? here's $300, keep the change, don't worry about it. he always makes sure you're pleased, even if you don't ask. he knows everything about you by heart. favorite flowers, favorite foods, plus your usual orders, so it's not uncommon to come home to food on the table with a fresh vase of florals seated next to it.

of course, nothing about this relationship was ever one sided. there is no one who prances around announcing that ekko is your man quite like you do. you make sure ekko knows that if he ever needs you, no matter what, you're there.

in return, you get whatever you want.

"ekko," you sing, putting your phone down in the cup holder. your hand rests over ekko's, which has a gentle grip on your thigh. crickets chirp outside, veiled beneath the dark sky and lack of light. you're speeding down an empty backroad on your way back home from a little shopping spree at a mall an hour and some change away. "i wanna go somewhere."

he hums. "where were you thinking?"

"dunno yet," you lean your weight onto the center console, maybe somewhere in asia."

"yeah?" he asks, squeezing the fat of your thigh. you smile wide. "sure. let me know when you decide."

"i will, thanks baby," you chirp, gently pulling his hand up your thigh and closer to your center. his fingers catch on the hem, pushing your denim skirt up and gently pressing his thumb into your clit. he's rubbing featherlight circles into it, running over the lacy underwear he bought for you a while back. your gasp is barely heard beneath the music.

the engine whirrs, and you see the speedometer shoot up.

so impatient.

.:*☆

it truly didn't take long for ekko to book that flight. you said the place, and about 30 minutes later everything was set in stone.

excitement rushed through your body as you packed, making sure to tuck your matching sets beneath your clothes. he deserved some type of reward, right?

when you finally arrived at your hotel, late into the night, jet-lagged to all hell, you couldn't help but ask ekko if he needed some help. he did everything, all you did was walk around, complain about your feet hurting a bit, and cling to his arm. regardless, he insisted you worried about nothing and just got comfy for the night because he had something big planned tomorrow.

never would you have ever guessed that you'd end up on a cruiser yacht.

he had you blindfolded after you returned to the hotel from eating and shopping, promising that you'd love it and that you just needed to be patient and trust him. you did; no hesitation there.

and once he slipped it off after your minor freak-out wondering what you're stepping onto that has to be so wobbly, it took your breath away.

the sun sinks below the horizon, yellow rays glittering off of the water. your hands met his, perched on your hips, looking back to find his prideful grin.

"ekko..." you pout.

"iii know, i'm a great boyfriend, you love me, i know," he jokes, chuckling as you walk around the cockpit, marveling the fact that you're on one. "it'll leave soon, there's a cooler with drinks, and i can take pictures for you."

you smile wide. "my personal photographer. in fact, take some of me right now before the sun sets," you rush to hand him your phone, quickly posing yourself in front of the scene.

ekko took taking photos for you so seriously, genuinely telling you how to switch your posing and expression, and without missing a beat always hyping you up to the third degree.

so when you heard nothing from ekko, no 'oooh's or 'mhm's, you turned to him.

"ekko?"

"sorry, you're just..." he laughs sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as if he wasn't the key to your heart. "so pretty."

you roll your eyes. "you're so corny."

the tone of your voice completely betrayed your words, honeyed and bashful. he catches it, shaking his head and raising the camera again.

"right—okay, let's try this again."

.:*☆

the pictures came out great. you wanted to wait until you got home to pick your favorites to post, but all of them were so good that you didn't know which one to pick.

you leaned against the railing, staring out into deep night, city lights twinkling in the distance. the cool sea breeze rushes against your skin, the salty scent of the ocean flooding around you. it was too good of an opportunity to not take more.

"ekko, take a few more for me?"

he hums, not a moment of protest, finding your phone and settling into the seat opposite of you.

you take your seat as well, your torso twisted and legs crossed. his mouth opens—'move your leg a little' rests on his tongue, until he inspects your gaze through the phone. you weren't quite looking at the camera, but rather...behind it.

"you okay?"

you nod. "yeah...you look good as fuck over there."

he fumbles over his words for a moment, looking down at his attire. "in my spiderman shirt?"

"mhm, especially in your spiderman shirt," you look him up and down, eyes sliding over his muscles. "come back over here real quick?"

he's surprised he didn't trip from how quickly he scrambled over to you, sitting in the seat beside you. his smile is poorly hidden as you crawl into his lap. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer.

you direct his face up, fingers gently pushing at his chin, leaning down to lock your lips together.

his hands roam your body—clearly too impatient—fingers pushing beneath your shirt, pulling up and revealing your bra. intricate lace, almost in a floral pattern, dyed a dusty pink that was barely visible under the moonlight. the cups had a deep cut, plunging down from your collar bone to the bottom of your sternum with a dainty little decorative bow.

you literally feel him getting hard. he looks up, fingers running along the band. "this for me?"

"sure is." you nod, reaching down to tug your skirt down. the hem of your matching panties peek out. "you like 'em?"

"do i?" he glances above the short barrier at the captain, who isn't paying an ounce of attention. just humming in his own world, only focused on the path they were going on. perfect.

"shit..." his lips reconnect with yours before trailing down, sucking hickies into your skin, tightly squeezing your thighs, brows furrowing.

you can already tell he's going to find a way to seat you right on his face so you stop him—not because you don't want that, but you've been spoiled enough for one day—pushing his shoulders back and getting off of him.

he looked like a kicked puppy when you separated from him and you just roll your eyes, sinking down onto your knees with a wide smile. it all connects for him and he relaxes against the seat, lips parting as you quickly unbutton his pants, your nail hooking at the band of his trunks. you tug, down, down, down, until his dick springs free and lightly taps his naval.

you waste no time, your lips meeting the base, then parting to let your tongue run up a vein that lead you to the sensitive tip.

ekko shivers, eyes shifting from the arch in your back to your lips, leaving glossy stamps all along his length.

you, on the other hand, kept your eyes locked onto his. he kept averting his gaze. for what, you weren't sure. but you tapped his tip against your tongue, capturing his attention. finally, his eyes meet yours. now you feel like you can continue.

you kiss the tip again, smiling up at him as you allow it to breach your lips, sliding into your mouth agonizingly slow.

"fuuuck," he drags, watching you slowly sink down, taking almost all of it yet stopping where your lips met your fingers.

you get acquainted with the feeling, adjusting your tongue to press against the skin. your cheeks hollow, your head slowly falling into a bobbing movement, stroking him alongside your movements.

he struggles to not thrust straight up into your mouth, gripping the edge of the leather cushions. one hand meets the back of your head but doesn't push or pull, just rests there.

his hips twitch, torso relaxing against the back of the seat, growing rigid whenever your tongue ran across just the right spot. his chest rises and falls rapidly, quickly drawing in breaths then moaning them right out.

your jaw already started to ache, but looking up at him as he falls apart from just your mouth is beyond worth it. he shakes his head, eyes leaving yours, squeezing shut, and you can tell he's already close.

his hand leaves your head, forearm laying against his forehead. you tap him, a reminder. look at me. he peeks down, a breathy chuckle pushing through.

"doin' so good for me, yeah? 'm close—" he warns you—you nod in acknowledgment.

you unhinge your jaw, sticking your tongue out so he can watch his cum spill all over it,

he sucks air in through his teeth, and before you know it you're bent over the seat, looking out onto the horizon. you start to speak and he just shushes you, tugging your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side. soaked.

maybe you were just too impatient, because before he could even get comfortable you were reaching back to put it in. his laugh rings behind you, shooing your hand away so he can finish sinking all the way inside you.

his pelvis meets your ass and you almost caught a glimpse of the back of your skull. he started slow, gripping your waist and bringing you back to meet his strokes.

you're squeezing around him so tight, and all he can do is stare in awe at it. his length glistens, coated in your juices. then he couldn't take it, his pace quickening, watching the fat of your ass recoil against his movements.

it feels euphoric, almost unreal. staring out into the night sky, stars twinkling above you, ocean swaying below you, and ekko thrusting into your heat, moaning behind you—it was overwhelming, it had your flesh running hot.

"feels good?" he questions, though your gasps and mewls answer loud and clear.

"fuck, yes."

"mhm, you're mine, right?"

"a-all yours." you nod.

"all mine?" he asks, and it's rhetorical. not like you could reply anyway, because your moans caught in your throat, rendering any chance you had at words useless.

your noises drowned beneath the whirring of the motor paired with the water swaying beneath you, which you're endlessly grateful for. you're lucky that driver pays almost no attention to what's happening behind him.

you were especially loud, and it only got worse as you felt your orgasm building. ekko knew it too, the way your voice shook, the way you tightened around him, the way you begged him not to stop—it was pushing him over the edge too.

"fuck, that's it. just like that. i got you, okay? good."

your cries overlap ekko's softer groans as you came, your form trembling, jolts of pleasure coursing throughout your body as he fucked you through it.

he had to hold back from coming inside you, letting you ride out your high before pulling out to release all over your back.

he gives you no time to recover, immediately diving in for another round, intoxicated with the way you gasps caught in your throat, holding onto the seat for dear life.

he leans down, his lips meeting your shoulder, his brows furrowed. it did not take long for the two of you to get close again, still sensitive from your previous release. within a few minutes, your juices coat his length and another load lands on your back, seeping down and settling into the dip of your spine.

you're both catching your breath, ekko presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, and you have to stop him from kissing you more. "we're almost there," you hiss, and he huffs, lifting off of you to get himself together,

thank god there were paper towels on board. he cleans his release off of your back and skirt, managing to get the both of your appearances together by the time the yacht met the docks.

the moment the captain comes back to thank you for riding with him, ekko's giving him the quickest thank you possible along with his tip and rushing you off of the boat.

"let's get back to the room? i just wanna see that set you have on a little better."

you know that the second that door closes behind you in the hotel, there is not a chance you'll be stopping.

__________________________________________

pssst!: not the most confident in this one.,. i will make up for this one i swear 😔 locking in!

maybe a part 2 with what happens at the hotel cough cough

[xxmooxmooxx]

irritable. ~ s.r. x fem reader.

MDNI 18+ ONLY

- told from spencer’s pov

prompt: Spencer accidentally sees y/n secret nsfw twt account and is struggling dealing with working along side her now.

warnings: angry Spence, nsfwtwt, mentions of sex, sex toys, perv! Spencer if you squint your eyes, age gap, lmk if im missing anything :)

a/n: BLURB! not a v long story. my first Spencer fic AND my first time writing smut. NOW reader and Spencer don’t hookup in this but it’s talked about quite a bit so proceed with caution loves. gimme feed back pls!!!! Lmk if you’d want a pt 2!!!

“i can't fucking do this, y/n. We have a lot of work left to do on this case.” I say getting out of my seat and walking towards the office door. It’s just too much right now. We’ve gotten nowhere close to finding this god awful unsub. Then here is y/n smelling like cocoanut and vanilla. Looking at me… no searching my eyes for answers I don’t have. And her hair? God. It’s down. Unlike most days where she wears it pulled back.

“Spencer! What the fuck? You told me if i needed to confied or talk to someone to go to you? If thats no longer okay then just tell me. You don’t have to talk to me like this.” She says getting out of their chair and stepping in my path to the door.

Shes right. I am being a complete an total ass right now. It’s not her fault. When she started last year I did tell her to come to me and she has taken me up on that offer lots of times and I've never minded it. I don't mind it. At Least I didn’t before… I look down defeated and sigh before looking at her. “You’re right. I apologize. Please, excuse me.” I take a step to the door.

“Reid…” She grabbed my arm looking up at me. “Please. What’s going on?”

I jerked off and came multiple times to your secret twitter account, y/n. I have your body engraved into my brain. I know exactly what i’d have to do, where to touch, how to touch, where to lick and suck now from watching the videos of you playing with yourself. I cant look at you let alone work with you, without wanting to take you into an empty office and showing you all the many things about your perfect fucking body I have learned and memorize. God even now during this stressful case all I can think of is fucking you so hard over this table that you cant remember what you came in here to ask for in the first place. But I can’t say that.

“I’m… fine. Okay? Many daily things in our lives especially in this field can cause irritability, for example: we’ve been on this case for 48 hours, we’ve gotten nowhere close to a profile, no idea how to stop this unsub, exactly how many victims he has so far, which means there's gonna be more innocent people dying. So, if I'm irritable that may be the reason. Now if you excuse me i need to go look the files we found on Amy Cassandra and Olivia Hidmen.” And with that, she let me go and I made my way out.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long week we are finally back home. I avoided y/n as much as I could which is the only way to deal with this until I can figure out how to move on. Then of course… once we get home going out to “split” the teams favorite local bar was suggested. We all agreed to meet up in an hour, giving ourselves time to go home and get ready.

I was sitting at our usual table with Derek and Emily when y/n walked in talking with Hotch. Fuck. me. She was wearing a short, silk, black dress that was hugging her body perfectly. Her hair was down framing her face perfectly and she was wearing her glasses. Last time i saw her glasses, they were on her bed side table in the background of the video she posted, showing off her new toys a sex toy company sent her. My thoughts are interrupted by her looking at me. I can't. I turn to Emily and Derek asking to be excused before walking past y/n and out the bars glass doors.

She’s your coworker, spencer. Not only is she a coworker, shes damn near 10 years younger than you, sees you as a mentor, and trusts you. What the fuck have I done.

“Reid!” i hear yelled from behind me.

No no no no… I turn to see her jogging towards me.

“y/n please go back inside.”

“No.”

“y/n…”

“Spencer, please stop.”

“No. y/n. You. please stop. Leave me alone and go back inside with the others…” I turn to walk away. After a few paces I hear:

“I saw.”

I pause in my tracks. Looking down at my feet. I’m fucked. I take a deep breath before turning and walking back to her. “You saw what?” I say looking down at her. My voice coming out deeper than intended.

“You liking and unliking one of my post on twitter.” She says softly and almost unsure.

I dont break eye contact. I’m frozen. What am i suppose to say to that?

“Spencer, please don’t tell anyone. I’m-”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t planning on talking to anyone about this.”

“Oh… okay…” A few more moments of silence. “I’m really really fucking sorry you saw that, no one i know in person was ever meant to see it. I just do it for fun and…”

‘I cant be having this conversation right now.’ i think to myself as she continues to ramble. “y/n. Stop.”

“... i know youre probably mortified…” she continues.

“Stop.”

“... I just dont wanna lose you-”

“y/n!’ I say louder than intended as i grab her shoulders trying to get her to listen to me. Shes staring wide eyed at me, silent. I losen my grip and lead her to a near by empty stairwell. I let her go and brush her hair off her shoulders and try to straighten the straps of her dress that was underneath my hands.

“Now…” i start calmly. I see her relax more and start looking at me with curiosity. “y/n, you have no reason to be apologoizing to me. You-” i stop myself to think before i let more rambling come out of my mouth. “I should be the one apologizing to you.” I say taking a step back attempting to give her some space.

“For what?” She asked genuinely.

“For invading your privacy. I saw your account and I was intrigued then after a few moments of analizing i realized it was you. I shouldve clicked away immediately but I didn’t, I kept scrolling and looking and I’m so sorry, y/n. You’re an amazing person, agent, and friend and I’m someone you trusted and i-”

“Did you like them?” she asked bluntly looking up at me.

Spencer. Stop. you cannot entertain this.

“Yes.” I answered searching her eyes for any signs of regret or disgust.

None to be found.

She takes a step closer to me making our hight difference extremely noticeable. “Spencer,” she started softly. The sound of my name on her lips going straight to my cock. “Did you touch yourself to me?”

“I did.”

She searches my face almost the same way i did hers moments ago before she yanks me into her by my tie our lips meeting and her pulling away before I could even register what happened. I look at her as if asking if she's sure she wants this before we quickly grab each other crashing our lips together again. Our bodies moving together and our mouths hungry.

“Fuck, I need you closer.” I moan into our kiss before softly pushing her against the wall of the stairwell. My hands roaming her body until they find their way to her beautiful thighs. I yank one of her legs up by her knee taking the opportunity to get my body closer to her. I can feel her hot core against my aching cock. My hands now resting on her ass and I leave kisses along her neck.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you to touch me like this for so long, Spencer.” She moans softly into my hair.

“Is that so?” I ask, looking up at her as I slowly drop down to my knees.

“Oh my god.” She whispers as she realizes my intentions for getting down here.

‘She’s definitely gonna believe in a god when i'm done with her.’ I think to myself as I start leaving kisses along her thighs.

“Y/n??”

We jump at Penelope’s voice we hear from around the corner. FUCK.

I immediately get back up and look at her attempting to straighten her dress and hair up. “We’re just having a conversation. Okay?” I whisper to her searching her eyes trying to keep her calm

“Okay.” She whispers back.

I nod as I take a seat on the steps crossing my arms over my knees in an attempt to hide my boner from Penelope.

“Oh my god! There you two are!” Penelope said relieved once she saw us. “Is everything okay with my two favorite nerds?”

“Yeah, just kinda debriefing the past week. It was a lot for me.” Y/n spoke up.

“Awwww okay pumpkin. If you need to take time to yourself it’s okay, everyone would understand.” She said as she pulled y/n into a hug.

“Yeah that’s probably what i'm gonna do. I need to decompress.” Y/n says in response, hugging our friend back.

“Okay baby cakes.” Garcia responded by pulling away. “What about you, my handsome wonder boy? You okay?”

“Yeah i'm good. Just got a bit overwhelmed. I’ll probably head home as well.” I say in response looking up at her from my seat on the stairs.

“Okay then my loves. I’ll go let them know.” She says as she starts to back up. “Reid, be a gentleman and make sure our sweet y/n gets home safe.” She turns and sends a winks to y/n before turning and making her way back to the bar.

“You um… maybe wanna come over and talk about everything?” I ask looking back to the beautiful woman I had in my arms moments ago.

“I would like that.”

[nachrosas]

SLIDE TO LOVE | s.reid x reader

summary: you try to teach spencer how to roller-skate. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: just spencer being a little drunk in this one! word count: 936 a/n: just a little fun day at park with spencer :)

It was a beautiful day. The park was especially alive there. Children's laughter echoed across the green fields, interspersed with the rhythmic sound of roller skates gliding across the asphalt. You were sitting beside Spencer on a bench shaded by a tree, watching the surrounding movement.

“Look at them!” you commented, pointing to a group of young people doing tricks on a small ramp. “I think they're competing to see who can get hurt first.”

Spencer adjusted his glasses, his curious gaze following their movements. “In fact, studies show that high-risk sports stimulate the release of adrenaline and dopamine, which can be considered a motivating factor. What's more, the likelihood of musculoskeletal injuries in sports like this is…”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't contain your smile. “Right. Dr. Reid, what about you? Have you ever tried skating?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Me? No, never. It seems… too unstable for me.”

“It's fun!” you insisted a little, standing up and tugging on his hand. “Come on, Spencer. It's time to add that to your list of extraordinary skills.”

He hesitated, but your piercing gaze made him stand up slowly, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “If I fall and hurt myself, it'll be your fault.”

“No problem! I'm a great instructor!” you assured him, guiding him to the small hut that rented out roller skates.

Spencer looked at the skates on his feet as if they were bombs about to explode. “Did you know that skating is responsible for approximately 100,000 injuries a year in the United States? About 33% of them involve the wrists, because when people fall, they choose their hands as a method of protection.”

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Okay, Dr. Statistics, but you're forgetting the most important fact: falling is part of the fun.” You took a step forward, grabbing his hands. “And besides, I'm here to make sure you don't become one of those 33%.”

He frowned, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch, almost forming a smile. “I can't be good at everything, you know?” he grumbled.

“Exactly! And that's why it's going to be so much fun to watch you stumble a little.” You winked at him and gently pulled him away from the grass, towards the asphalt.

As soon as the wheel of Spencer's roller skates touched the smooth surface, he staggered, his arms moving like uncontrolled propellers. You held on tightly to his hands, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Okay, okay, don't worry! Small steps, right? Let's try again.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on his own feet, his expression determined. Every step was clumsy, and he stumbled a few times, but you never let go of his hands.

“You're thinking too much,” you commented, as you helped him regain his balance for the third time. “You have to relax, let the movement flow. It's like walking in sneakers! Only instead of sneakers, it's wheels.”

He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with something other than frustration. “Relaxing? I'm not exactly good at it.”

You laughed, tilting your head. “Really? You don't even think so. All that genius and you can't take two steps without pulling me along?”

Spencer stopped, swaying slightly on his skates. “You know I'd do anything to see you smile like that, right?”

The world seemed to slow down. He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart soar. A shy smile took over his face.

“Well, in that case,” you replied, squeezing their hands tighter. “You'd better keep practicing. Because I'm still not satisfied.”

He smiled back, genuine and full of renewed confidence, and took another step. Of course, he stumbled again, but this time your laughter echoed together, filling the park with a light and contagious joy.

With you still holding his hands, Spencer was able to glide with more confidence — or at least what felt like confidence. His movements were still clumsy as if he was learning to walk again, and that's when you realized that he was really trying. For you.

For a brief moment, he took three consecutive steps without stumbling, and you both celebrated as if he had just won a medal. But the euphoria was short-lived. With his next move, Spencer lost his balance, tripping and pulling you along.

You both fell to the ground awkwardly, but the impact was cushioned by the laughter that escaped your lips. You looked at him, who was now lying on his back, trying to catch his breath as he laughed more freely than you had ever seen before.

“I told you,” he said between laughs. “that it wouldn't end well.”

“Finish well?” you repeated, sitting down and holding out your hand to help him up. “Spencer, that was perfect!”

He accepted your help, taking a seat next to you, still with his skates on his feet. “If that's your definition of perfect, maybe I need to revise my standards.”

You gave him a gentle push on the shoulder, smiling. “You know, I think you're starting to get the spirit of the thing.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that look that seemed to unlock secrets. “Maybe it's because I have the best teacher in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained. “And you'll need more lessons! Next time, no falls, okay?”

“Next time…” he repeated, with a slight curve to his lips, as if the mere act of saying those words was a promise.

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

[therapardalis]

ohisms

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 . ( a collection of dialogue prompts from the film the hobbit : the desolation of smaug . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

[Cut for length.]

this is no chance meeting , is it , [ name ] ?

take back your homeland .

what if i were to help you reclaim it ?

that's not the worst of it .

we have another problem .

what did i tell you ? quiet as a mouse .

will you just listen ? i'm trying to tell you there's something else out there .

the bear is unpredictable , the man can be reasoned with .

come away from there , it's not natural . none of it .

it's obvious , he's under some dark spell .

you'll be safe here tonight ... i hope .

we grow in number , we grow in strength .

death will come to all .

there are others like you ?

you're running out of time .

a darkness lies upon that forest .

i would not venture there except in great need .

go now while you have the light .

this forest feels ... sick . as if a disease lies upon it .

something moves in the shadows unseen , hidden from our sight .

if our enemy has returned , we must know .

i would not do this unless i had to .

you've changed , [ name ] .

you must stay on the path . do not leave it . if you do , you'll never find it again .

is there no end to this accursed forest ?

we're going around in circles , we are lost .

the sun . we have to find the sun .

we're being watched .

they're growing bolder .

not just a thief , but a liar as well .

i myself suspect a more prosaic motive .

i have seen how you treat your friends .

you turned away from the suffering of my people .

a hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf . i'm patient . i can wait .

did he offer you a deal ?

shh ! there are guards nearby .

you were supposed to be leading us out , not further back in !

are you mad ? they'll find us .

please . please , you must trust me .

this is not a nice place to meet .

why now , [ name ] ? i don't understand .

a human sorcerer could not summon such evil .

in our blindness , the enemy has returned .

the enemy is preparing for war .

i started this . i cannot forsake them , they are in grave danger .

you want me to cast my friends aside ?

i think we've outrun the orcs .

we've no weapons to defend ourselves .

do it again , and you're dead .

what makes you think i would help you ?

no doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed .

oh , come on - enough of the niceties .

i would like to know who you are . and what you're doing in these lands .

we need food , supplies ... weapons . can you help us ?

i'd wager there are ways to enter that town unseen .

for that , you'd need a smuggler .

there was more he could have told us .

i don't care what he calls himself , i don't like him .

we don't have to like him , we just have to pay him .

i've been bled dry by this adventure ! and what have i seen for my investment ?

if you value your freedom , you'll do as i say .

folk in this town are suffering .

you'd do well to remember ; we know where you live .

it's a small town , [ name ] , everyone knows where everyone lives .

who would have the nerve to question my authority ?

you promised us weapons .

death ! that is what you'll bring upon us .

have you forgotten what happened to [ name / location ] ?

let us not be so quick to lay blame .

join us when you're healed .

[ name ] , you belong with the company .

i belong with my brother .

we have no time to wait , we're on our own .

the evil that is hidden here ... i command it reveal itself .

you have keen eyes , [ name ] .

let all those who doubted us rue this day !

i know these walls ... these halls , this stone .

i do not know what you'll find down there .

it never ceases to amaze me . the courage of hobbits .

if there is in fact a live dragon down there , don't waken it .

come , now ... don't be shy . step into the light .

there is something about you , something you carry .

there you are , thief in the shadows .

i did not come to steal from you .

do you think flattery will keep you alive ?

what else do you claim to be ?

truly , you are mistaken .

you have nice manners , for a thief and a liar .

i know the smell and taste of dwarf .

they are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh .

did you think i did not know this day would come ?

you should leave us .

and go where ? there is nowhere to go .

the dragon , it's going to kill us .

i kill where i wish , when i wish .

my armor is iron , no blade can pierce me .

i need you to distract the guards .

time to do what , to get killed ?

yes , i'm afraid . i'm afraid for you .

you're not yourself .

the darkness is coming ... it will spread to every corner of the land .

you were only ever a means to an end .

i will not part with a single coin . not one piece of it .

your reputation precedes you .

you have no equal on this earth .

i think our little game ends here .

so tell me , thief ... how do you choose to die ?

we've given him the slip .

there may be a way out .

it's our only chance , we have to try .

i've heard tales of the wonders of elvish medicine .

that was a privilege to witness .

i will not die like this . cowering . gasping for breath .

if this is to end in fire , then we will all burn together .

perhaps it is time i paid them a visit .

this isn't their fault !

you care about them , do you ? good . then you can watch them die .

i am taking back what you stole .

you will take nothing from me .

i laid low your warriors of old . i instilled terror in the hearts of men .

this is not your kingdom . these are dwarf lands .

revenge ? revenge ?! i will show you revenge !

i am fire . i am death .

what have we done ?

[starlost-maniac]

My Significant Bother - Ch 1

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (don't do it), mxf, mxm, some angst if you squint, unrequited love(?), Mean Jisung (kinda?) I probably missed some (I'll eventually remember all the tags -_-)

Pairing: MinSung x fem!reader

dividers made by @cafekitsune

"Tell me again why I'm here." You say in your boyfriend's ear before leaning back, giving him a look, drink in hand.

"Because it's my best friend's birthday, you promised me you'd go out more and you love me." He smiles at you, talking over the music blaring in the club. "Plus.." He leans back a bit more, looking you over. "You look so damn gorgeous." You smile and roll your eyes.

"I would hope I do, Minho. You picked the dress out." You take a sip of your drink. He chuckles, looking you over again. The dress was black with mint accents, the top was strapless and had a deep v cut, showing off plenty of cleavage. The dress stopped at your ankles, hugging the curves of your chest, waist and hips perfectly before becoming more flowy from mid thigh.

"You always do, kitten." He places his hands on your hips, pulling you close. He leans down to kiss you. Just as his lips land on yours, you hear the DJ announce over the music, "The birthday boy is here!"

You groan into Minho's mouth and pull away, rolling your eyes as Jisung strolls into the club. He greets people along the way to you and Minho. You take another sip of your drink and turn around in Minho's arms, leaning back against him. He leans forward some, wrapping his arms around your waist just under your breasts.

"Please try to be civil, kitten. I know you don't like him, but just for today?" He whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek. You groan out before letting out a quiet 'fine'. Minho smiles. "Good kitten." He stands up straight and holds you close.

When Jisung gets to you and Minho, he glares at you and groans. "Hyung, why did you invite this…" He gestures to you without breaking eye contact with your boyfriend.

"Jisung, I've asked her to be civil for your birthday. Can't you be nice today?" He gives you a gentle squeeze. Jisung huffs before looking at you. He looks you over, staring at your chest for longer than he needed before looking back into your eyes.

"Thanks for coming…I guess." He crosses his arms.

"And, Jisung?" You feel Minho chuckle against your back.

"And..you look very…not ugly today." Jisung huffs. You roll your eyes and sip your drink again.

"So how's your birthday so far man?" Minho asks, gently rubbing your ribs with his fingers.

"Good, great honestly. Got a new job at an office. Better pay and shorter commute too." Jisung says, waving the bartender down. You end up blocking out the rest of what he says.

You look out over the crowd, slowly sipping on your drink. You see a group of your girl friends from school come inside. They were part of your friend circle from school, that—unfortunately—Jisung was part of too. You and Jisung were not friends. You were the farthest thing from friends. He always picked on you throughout school, but stopped most of the bullying when Minho came into the picture. Minho was a new transfer and he joined your clique pretty quick. He got really close to both you and Jisung. Minho ended up asking you to your senior prom and asked you to be his girlfriend the same night. You've been dating since then.

You turn around in Minho's arms and step up on your toes to reach Minho's ear. "I see some girls from school. I'm going to say hi and mingle, maybe dance some."

"Ok, baby. Just be careful out there." He says back. "Don't want some random guy thinking he can have a chance with you. Especially since the girls are almost on full display." He chuckles, gently grazing his hands over your breasts, his fingers playfully following the v cut.

"I know, love. Only for you." You wink at him before kissing his cheek. You walk off to join your friends, their cheers can just be heard over the music. Minho chuckles and sits on one of the stools at the bar, watching you.

"Honestly, hyung, you could do so much better than her. There's a club full of hot girls here that would love to be under you. Probably a few dudes too." He laughs out. He leans back against the bar counter next to Minho.

"Nah. No way, Ji. She's honestly it. I've been with her for 7 years. I can't give her up now." He smiles, watching you dance with your friends. His gaze shifts over to Jisung, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Why do you say that, though? You jealous?" He chuckles.

"What? Hyung, ew. No. First off, she's definitely not my type. Second, she's your girlfriend." He gives Minho a look. "Plus, I may have slept around in college, but I never slept with a taken person…on purpose." He takes a sip of his drink, gaze shifting back to the crowd before landing on you.

"Jisung. I've heard you talk in your sleep. You've said her name so many times over the years." Minho laughs. Jisung rolls his eyes.

"Like you haven't dreamt of your enemies before." He turns, calling the bartender over again for a few shots.

"Oh I have. I definitely have, but not like that, and I don't moan their name with a full hard-on in my sleep." Minho wiggles his eyebrows at his best friend. Jisung just makes a disgusted face. Minho laughs and pats his friend on the back before shifting his gaze back to you. "Honestly though, Ji. I wouldn't mind it. I trust and love you both. You're both the most important people in my life." Minho shrugs. "I'd love it if you both got closer and stopped fighting so much."

You look over at Minho and wave, dancing with your friends. Your girl friends wave to him too. He chuckles and waves back before blowing you a kiss. He couldn't believe how incredibly lucky he felt to have you in his life.

"I love you, too, hyung. You're really important to me, too." Jisung turns around, facing the crowd again. He leans back against the bar and sips on a drink. It's quite between the two for a few moments before Jisung's eyebrows scrunch together and he slowly looks at Minho. "Wait. Did you imply that you wouldn't mind if Y/n and I fucked?"

"Yeah?" The older laughs. "You and I fucked a few times in high school before Y/n and I got together, too. She knows and it didn't really bother her. Maybe if you two fucked, it'll get some of that pent up anger you two have out." Minho shrugs, chuckling. Jisung squints at his hyung. "Plus, I'm sure it'd be pretty hot. Watching my girlfriend get railed by my best friend."

"Right…let's just enjoy the party. It's only a few more hours until my birthday is over." Jisung downs a shot quickly. "I'm going to go find someone to dance with." He goes out into the crowd. Minho watches and laughs.

You and your girl friends come up not long after, you immediately go into Minho's open arms. The girls and Minho catch up for a bit. Jisung comes back after a while. He smiles at the girls and thanks them for coming to his birthday party. They hugged him and kissed his cheek before going back onto the dance floor.

You all enjoy the party for a few more hours before you and Minho are ready to head home. Jisung does one more round of shots with some people before he leaves with you and Minho. Jisung gets in the back seat and lays down, wasted. You got in the passenger seat as you've had a few drinks and were definitely tipsy. Minho buckles you in and kisses your cheek. Once he gets in and buckles his belt, he drives to the house that he and Jisung own. Minho asked you to move in prior, but you declined, saying soon.

Minho drives carefully, trying to not make you or Jisung sick in the car. Parking the car, he got out and went to your side, opening the door for you. You smile at him and get out.

"Are you ok to walk, kitten?" He holds your hand.

"I should be ok. I'll wait for you in the bedroom." He nods and kisses your cheek softly. He opens the back door of the car and carefully gets Jisung out as you walk inside. After pulling Jisung out of the car, he carefully closes the door with his foot and goes inside. He brings Jisung to his room and carefully sets him on the bed. He takes the younger boy's shoes, shirt and pants off, rolling his eyes when he finds out Jisung wasn't wearing boxers. He dresses the boy in a pair of pajama pants and covers him with his blanket before leaving to go to his own room.

Minho finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on your phone. He smiles and walks over to you, kneeling in front of you. You set your phone down and smile back at him. He slowly slides his hands up your left leg and under your dress, gently grabbing the thigh high stockings you wore. He slowly starts to slide it down your leg, not breaking eye contact with you. You shiver when his fingers gently touch your skin. He slips the stocking off before repeating with your right leg.

Standing up, he holds his hand out to you, helping you stand up. Once you stand, he turns you around and unzips your dress for you.

"So gorgeous in this dress.." He slips it off your body, letting it fall to the ground, leaving you in just your panties. "So gorgeous without." He leans down as he wraps his arms around you, softly kissing your neck. "How did I get so lucky with you, kitten? All those other guys vying for your attention.." he breaths against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "And I'm the one that won your heart over." He kisses up your neck to just under your ear, the tip of his nose ghosting your skin.

"You made me feel safe.." you breathe out, eyes closing. One of Minho's hands moves up to gently cup your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. His other hand sliding down to the hem of your panties.

"Mm..I'll always keep you safe." He kisses behind your ear. "Let's go shower, my love." He slips his fingers into your panties, laying his hand flat against your belly before slipping his fingers back out, letting you go completely, making you whine softly at the loss of contact. You follow him out of his room and into the bathroom as he strips himself of his clothes on the way, starting the shower when he enters the bathroom. You slip your panties off, dropping them on the bathroom floor.

Stepping behind him as he was checking the water temperature, you wrap your arms around him, putting your hands on his pecs. You press your body right against him, your breasts squished against his back. He chuckles when you playfully squeeze his pecs a few times. He reaches down behind himself, playfully reaching for your core. You giggle and back away some.

"Mm, kitten wants to be playful it seems." He turns around and quickly grabs you, pulling you right against him. Wrapping his arms around you, he picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck and he steps into the shower. He grins and steps under the water, getting you wet first.

"Kitten is wet in more than one place now." He chuckles and you stick your tongue out at him. "Don't stick that tongue out at me, kitten, unless you plan on using it." He smirks at you. You smile and lean down, slotting your lips with his, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He groans softly and you feel his dick twitch under you. He gently grips your ass a little as you make out. He gently readjusts you so he can slide his cock inside you, making you moan in his mouth. He pulls away with a smirk.

"Such a good kitten, taking me so well." He presses your back against the wall, bottoming out in you. "Who's good kitten are you, baby?"

"Ahh..yours..yours Minho. Only yours." You moan, feeling every inch of him that slips in you, filling you up.

"Good girl." You clench around him at the praise. He chuckles and leans down, attaching his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking marks onto your skin. He slowly starts to fuck up into you, gripping your ass. You moan out, tilting your head for him. Your nails gently run along his skin, the stream of water hitting his back making his skin slick.

He chuckles against your neck as he thrusts hard into you, making you gasp and moan. He kisses along your skin, leaving occasional marks. He leaves enough with the knowledge you'll have to cover them up come Monday. He grins as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you hard and fast. He coos at you when you moan and whimper. He can feel you getting close as you clench around him more.

"You gonna cum for me, kitten? Gonna be a good girl and cum around my hard cock?" He whispers in your ear, making you shiver despite being in a hot shower.

"Yes..yes. Wanna cum…" You arch your back, pressing your breasts against him. He grinds deep into you and you moan his name, cunt clenching around him hard as you cum. Minho latches onto your neck again and bites and kisses as he fucks you through your high before cumming deep into you.

"Good girl. Such a good kitten." He coos, peppering your face with kisses as you come down from your high, making you let out a breathy giggle. He helps you stand up, sliding out of you. "Let's get you cleaned up and head to bed. How's that sound baby?" He steps back under the stream, pulling you with him. You nod, getting sleepy. Minho smiles and carefully washes you and himself. He turns the water off and steps out of the cubicle. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs a towel for you, drying you off.

Once you're back in his bedroom, he tosses on a pair of shorts to sleep in and grabs you a silky set of pajamas to sleep in, knowing they're one of your favorites. You lay in bed and cuddle up to him.

"Thank you for coming to Jisung's birthday party, kitten." He kisses your head.

"Of course, baby. I went for you, though." You cuddle as close to him as possible.

"I know, but still. Thank you." He rubs your back. "I do still hope that you two can be more friendly towards each other."

"Mm." You yawn, sleep finally taking you over. Minho smiles softly and kisses your head again. A few minutes pass and he hears a quiet knock on his bedroom door. He looks over and sees Jisung peeking his head through the door. Minho raises an eyebrow at him as the younger boy walks in and quietly shuts the door. He walks over to Minho's side of the bed and climbs in behind him.

"Sorry hyung. My room is cold and you're warm." Jisung said. He still sounded drunk, but could just be sleepy too. Minho laughs softly, trying not to wake you.

"You're fine. Just don't wake kitten." He whispers. Jisung nods a little, moving close to Minho. Minho chuckles a little as Jisung's hard on was pressed right against him. He sometimes forgets that his friend gets really horny when drunk. Jisung lays his head against Minho's back, the older man settles in, holding you close before he falls asleep himself.

——

Minho wakes up early the next morning, you and Jisung are still fast asleep in his bed. He carefully gets up, making sure not to jostle either of you, before leaving his room to use the bathroom then heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

You turn over in your sleep, onto your side, facing away from the boy in Minho's bed. Jisung moves in his sleep as well, looking for Minho's warmth. He moves across the bed, finding you. He wraps his arm around you, thinking that you were his friend. You both sleep a little longer until Jisung wakes up, pressed right against you. He inhales deeply, smelling Minho's shampoo on you.

Jisung stretches and cuddles into you a bit more, thinking that you were Minho. He stays like that for a bit before he realizes that he's in Minho's bed, with you and not Minho, morning wood present, pressed against your ass. He scrambles out of the bed and lands on the floor with a thud, waking you up. You sit up and look around before you see him on the floor, hair a mess. You roll your eyes before glaring at him.

"What are you doing in here, Jisung? Minho put you in your bed last night." You cross your arms under your chest.

"I got cold and Minho-hyung usually lets me sleep in his bed when I'm cold." He snaps back, trying to hide his obvious morning wood. You roll your eyes again and get up out of bed. You leave the bedroom and head to the kitchen where you hear your boyfriend cooking. You walk up to Minho at the stove. You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his back.

"Good morning, baby. Did you let Jisung sleep in bed with us last night?" You ask, interlocking your fingers around him.

"Mhmm. He said he was cold so he slept behind me. He usually does it when you aren't here, but he would have still been a little drunk." Minho says, flipping a pancake.

"Mm." You stay like that for a moment before letting go to get a drink. Jisung walks out when you get to the fridge, hair no longer a mess. He was still shirtless, his skin flawless, v-line on full display as he wore his sleep pants low.

"You're staring, Y/n." Jisung says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look away from him and grab your juice from the fridge.

"No I wasn't." You pour yourself a cup, putting the container back in the fridge.

"Sure you weren't. I didn't see it with my own two eyes." He says dryly, rolling his eyes. "I know I'm hot, but don't stare." You turn your head to glare at him, taking a sip of your drink before walking back to Minho. Your boyfriend plates up some pancakes and looks at you, a soft smile on his face.

"Can you bring this to the table, kitten?" He holds up a plate full of pancakes. You nod and take it from him. You bring it to the table, Jisung immediately taking one and biting half of it, his cheeks puffing up like a squirrel. You roll your eyes, going back to stand with Minho.

"Oh, baby." You look up at him, he lets out a soft 'hmm?'. "You remember my friend, Felix? You met him at last year's Christmas party. It's his birthday today."

"I remember. I sent him a gift basket of baking recipes and the like last week as an early gift. We talked a lot during that party." Minho looks at you and smiles. He leans down and pecks your lips. Jisung makes a gagging sound and Minho just chuckles.

"Don't be jealous, Jisung. I know kitten is beautiful, but no reason to be jealous." Minho winks at his friend. Jisung makes another gagging sound. "Just think about what we talked about last night, if you remember what I said." He laughs before plating up more food, taking it to the table. Jisung shakes his head and sits at the table and eats with you and Minho.

——

The following Monday, you were at work. You worked at a company that helped promote idols, whether it was making images or trailers/videos, or anything that they needed, your company did it all. You worked with Felix, Hyunjin and Changbin out of a closed off office on your floor. You were the team leader for this specific section, but still answered to Chan, the manager of the floor. Chan had called your team into the meeting room for a quick meeting.

"Y/n, Felix, Changbin, Hyunjin. I called you in to let you know that we have a new employee, and I'm assigning him to your team." He sits back in his seat. "You're the best team I have here, so I know you'll do great with a new body on hand." You nod at him. He turns towards the door and waves his hand, indicating for the new hire to come in.

You turn in your seat, smile on your face as you're excited to see who your new coworker was, just for the smile to fade as soon as you see Jisung walk in. He steps inside and freezes upon seeing you. He swallows and steps up to the table that you are all sat at.

"This is our new employee, Han Jisung. Jisung, this is Y/n, our team leader of the group you'll be working for, Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix." Chan says, indicating to each of the boys as he stands from his seat. "Y/n will show you to your desk, and will give you the rundown of how we do things, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask her." Chan smiles and leaves the meeting room. You sat there, still shocked. The other three members of your team all get up to greet their new member. Jisung greets them back, trying to hide his shock.

You stand up and look at Jisung. "Follow me, Jisung. I'll show you around the office." You leave the meeting room, Jisung follows behind not long after. You showed him some of the other offices on your floor, all managed by Chan, where the bathrooms were and where the break room was. You showed him where Chan's office was, his secretary and assistant's desks outside his office. You introduce Seungmin and Jeongin to Jisung before taking him back to your office where your team had already come back to.

"This is where you'll be sitting." You point to a desk at the end of the layout, opposite of where you sit. There were a few other empty desks closer to you, but you didn't really want him near you.

"Understood." He was trying to be professional in front of the others. By the time he settled in, it was time for lunch. You usually went to lunch with your team, so being cordial, you offered to take Jisung out. He looked at you, suspiciously, making you roll your eyes.

"I usually go to lunch with my team. You don't have to go." You stand up and grab your jacket.

"She really does, Jisung. She enjoys spending time with the team, even if she doesn't show it." Felix says, teasing you. You smile and roll your eyes again.

"If you're coming, then come. If not, then don't." You walk out of the office behind the other boys. Jisung hesitates for a moment before grabbing his coat and following behind you. It was Felix's turn to decide, and he wanted tteokbokki. You follow Felix to a table, sitting next to him with Changbin on your other side, Hyunjin across from Felix and Jisung across from you. You all place your order and sit quietly. Jisung chances a glance at you and sees your eyes flick to him. He makes a disgusted face and looks away from you.

Jisung chances a few more glances at you throughout lunch. He genuinely had thought about what Minho had said on his birthday. He did think that you were pretty, beautiful even. But you two had been fighting since you were kids. He honestly didn't think there would even be a chance for friendship given your history. When the food came, you all ate, the team started a conversation with Jisung. As your lunch hour came to a close, you and your team got up, you paying for their food, Jisung's included. He was honestly surprised.

You all walk back to the office, Jisung trailing behind you, the other three walking ahead of you. Jisung stares at you a few times on the walk back.

"I feel you staring, Jisung. Cut it out." You say without turning around.

"I'm not staring." He shifts his gaze from you. "Thank you for lunch, though." He says quietly. You simply nod. Going back up to your floor, you all go back to your desks, Jisung going to his before getting up to go to you. He needed help with his login as Chan hadn't given it to him, but had it on your desk. You get up and go around to his desk. You help him log in and show him how to use the programs he needs to use. That continues until the end of the work day.

"Can I ride home with you and Minho, Y/n? I took a cab here as I didn't know you worked here." He was quiet, not wanting to ask you for things.

"Ask Minho. He'll be here any minute." You look up from your phone, looking out for your boyfriend's car. Once he pulls up, you smile and get in the passenger seat. Jisung leans down so he can see Minho.

"Hyung, can I ride home with you and Y/n? I don't want to call another cab." He chuckles softly.

"Yeah, that's fine. Hop in." Minho says. He leans over and kisses your cheek as Jisung climbs in the back seat. The younger one makes a disgusted face again when Minho kisses your cheek. Minho laughs when he sees the face his friend makes. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

——

You were in your bathroom, taking off your makeup while Minho ordered pizza. Once your makeup was off, you changed out of your work outfit and into more comfortable clothes. One of Minho's oversized shirts that hung off your shoulder, and a pair of your sleep shorts, hidden just underneath Minho's shirt. You step out into the common area and Jisung covers his eyes from where he sits on the couch.

"Please put some pants on, Y/n." He peeks through his fingers.

"I am." You lift the hem of the shirt up to show off the shorts.

"Oh." Jisung lowers his hands. Minho walks in from the kitchen with three cups. You take one from him and thank him, smiling at him.

"I'm going to hop in the shower while we wait for the food to be delivered. It's already paid for, so when it gets here, just give him the tip money on the table by the door." Your boyfriend says. He kisses you softly after setting the other cups down.

"Will do. Thank you, baby." You kiss him back and he walks off to go shower. Not long after the water starts, there's a knock at the front door. You answer it and it's the delivery driver. You take the pizza and hand him the tip money. You notice him looking you over.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing home alone like this?" He grins, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm not alone." You say, holding the pizza boxes. "I'm here with my boyfriend."

"I don't see anyone inside. So it looks like you're alone." He chuckles, trying to step inside. "And I don't think the old 'I have a boyfriend' card is going to work." You take a step back as he keeps trying to come inside.

"Ji..?" You call out, getting nervous. The delivery guy starts to reach for your arm, saying something that you weren't listening to. "Jisung?" You say calling louder.

"What?" He says coming around the corner to see you. He sees what's happening. "What's wrong man? Did my girlfriend forget to give you the tip?" He steps over to you, taking the pizza and setting it on the table by the door. He drapes his arm over your shoulder. The delivery guy looks between you and Jisung.

"This guy isn't your boyfriend." He scoffs.

"No, I am. Now if you'd kindly leave, I won't press charges for trespassing." Jisung watches him.

"Prove it then." This guy is getting ballsy. Jisung shrugs and turns you so you're facing him. He gives you a look that says 'trust me'. You didn't trust him, and really didn't want to, but you nod slightly and Jisung leans down, slotting his lips with yours. Your first thought was that you wanted to pull away or push him away, that kissing him would've been horrible. But it wasn't. His lips were nice and soft. He slowly licks your lips, asking for entrance. He wanted to be as convincing as possible to get the guy to leave.

You bring one hand up to his cheek as you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside your mouth, one of his hands going to the back of your head, having you tilt your head back a bit to deepen the kiss. He tasted of cherries. You faintly hear the guy scoff and what sounded like the door closing. Jisung stepped closer to you, pulling you close to him at the same time as he continued to kiss you.

He gently bites your lower lip and you groan softly. He releases your lip and captures you in a kiss once more, his fingers threading into your hair, a soft moan slips from him into your mouth. You hear someone clear their throat off to the side of you and that's when Jising pulls away, his lips kiss bruised. You imagine yours don't look any better. Jisung wipes his lips on the back of his hand, putting on a disgusted look again. You turn your head and see Minho standing there just in a towel.

"Minho.."

[ghouljams]

Omg how's Gaz and the maid doing??? We haven't heard of them in forever. They're the least depressing ones in this AU, I think.

Love you and your writing btw

Muah

You wave the letter from you father in front of Lord Garrick's face, uncaring for your decorum when all you want to do is jump across his desk and strangle him. Your father, loving as he may be, is marvelously angry. Someone claiming to be the king's advisor, though you suspect it truly was your lord, has asked him for your hand in marriage. Which has caused your father to make the understandable assumption that you're pregnant. Why else would a nobleman begin marriage talks with him? It's not as if you're of any high standing, you're just barely a step above a peasant from working in the castle but you are still woefully common.

"Is this some sort of joke?" You ask Lord Garrick, slamming your letter against his desk. He looks down at it, then back to you.

"It's not a very funny one if it is," He responds, taking the letter from under your fingers and standing.

You take a step back from his desk, suddenly reminded of your station. Garrick reads over your father's letter as he steps around the desk, you turn with his path, keeping your eyes trained on him. You're too wary to look away, he's unpredictable and you lose all thought when he touches you. Which seems to be the only thing he wants to do, and you can't say you feel any different.

He's charming.

He's gorgeous.

He's dangerous.

He's far, far, too close to you too quickly.

He holds your chin between his fingers, soft and loose, it locks you in place. The memory of his thumb sliding against your lips makes your cheeks flash with heat, goosebumps prickling over your skin when you force it back down.

"You father thinks you're pregnant." Garrick summarizes, his eyes darting over the letter in his opposite hand. You wish he'd look at you, or let you go so you can get some distance. His eyes are so rich this close.

You feel the memory of his hands on you so often you'd convinced yourself you were sleepwalking. The press of his chest against your back haunted your dreams. The tip of his head as he leaned over you followed you through the back halls. And yet nothing hung over your head quite so sharply as the fleeting feeling of his stubble brushing your jaw, interrupted too soon, and taking too much to walk away from. He called you "doll" but maybe "puppet" was more accurate.

"I'm not," You assure him, assure yourself and the memory of your father's frown. Lord Garrick hums, something flickering over his gaze that you can't parse.

"You could be," He reasons, "you've been in and out of my chambers alone, and you're so-" his fingers move from your chin to stroke over your cheek, his thumb rubbing just below your eye as he cups your face, "-beautiful, it wouldn't be unbelievable."

A shiver fingers its way through you, spreading to touch each muscle along your spine, up your cheeks and down to your fingertips. You tense all over to keep from shaking at the way your lord looks at you. An almost pitying, but unmistakable hunger that makes your heart quicken in your chest.

"I'm a virgin," You remind yourself, "I could have a physician check, write something as proof."

"Or you could let me check." Garrick breathes, his gaze consumptive, pulling you closer with each breath. He tips his head and you feel that phantom brush of his stubble, with no one to save you from yourself this time. "Your husband is better suited for that, don't you think, poppet?"