#I will likely finish the song some other time

[heartsriki]

FLORAL SANCTUARY ⌇봄의 사랑

pairing ᝰ idol!sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. riki & sunoo | word count: 5.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, tiny bit of angst, mention of Sasaengs, misunderstandings, assault attempt (not from hoon), kissing, reader is a florist.

synopsis — your life is turned upside down when a mysterious customer, later revealed to be sunghoon of ENHYPEN, starts frequenting their shop. As feelings blossom, they must navigate the challenges of love in the spotlight and a world of secrets.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Im not sure if I like this but :( I worked on it for a little bit of time so I might as well post it also don’t talk about me sneaking riki into every fic fr.. OH I hope yall like the bonuses under every fic as well <3 hope you like it enjoy fr!

The start of spring always brought life to the city. The air smelled of fresh blooms, the sun painted the streets in golden light, and your quaint little flower shop buzzed with new energy. Spring meant love was in the air, and for a florist like you, it was prime confession season.

The day, however, had been slower than you’d hoped. The usual flow of familiar faces trickled in—some grabbing pre-made bouquets, others chatting as they browsed. Earlier, a man wearing a mask and a baseball cap had wandered in, keeping to himself as he strolled among the displays. He seemed like the kind of person who was window-shopping rather than buying, so you left him to it, busying yourself with restocking and rearranging.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet rhythm of the shop, and you turned to see a younger guy, probably no older than 18, shuffling inside. He looked nervous, wringing his hands as he approached the counter.

“Uh, hey… What flowers are, like, good for confessing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. This was your favorite kind of customer—the ones looking for the perfect way to say something they couldn’t put into words themselves. “If you’re confessing love, red tulips are a classic,” you said, guiding him toward the vibrant blooms.

His face lit up as he picked a handful, and you wrapped them into a simple but elegant bouquet. As you handed it over, you grinned and said, “Good luck! I hope they say yes.”

“Thanks!” he beamed, waving as he left the shop.

You turned back to the shelves, searching for something to keep you busy when the man in the mask from earlier appeared at the counter. He stood tall, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face obscured by the brim of his cap.

“Can I help you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated like he was working up the courage to speak. “Yeah, uh… I heard you helping that kid, and I was wondering… what flowers are good to give to your mom?”

His voice was deep but soft, and something about it made your chest tighten. You pushed the thought aside and gave a little laugh. “For your mom? Gardenias are perfect—they symbolize love for family. But they’re a bit pricey.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll take one.”

You nodded and stepped away to grab one of the delicate white blooms. As you did, the radio in the corner of the shop switched songs, the upbeat melody of “Moonstruck” by ENHYPEN filling the air. You glanced at the man, noticing how he suddenly stiffened. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the door.

“Here you go,” you said, returning with the flower wrapped in crisp white paper.

But as you held it out to him, he grabbed it hastily and bolted for the door.

“Hey!” you called after him, heart racing as you hurried around the counter. You chased him to the sidewalk, but he was already halfway down the block, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, out of breath, staring after him. “What the actual hell…”

The next day, just as you were finishing up for the evening, you hummed to the soft tune of the radio while sweeping the shop floor. The faint ding of the bell broke the stillness, and you looked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closing,” you explained softly, leaning the broom against the counter.

The man who entered smirked at you, his demeanor casual but confident. “No worries, babe. I wasn’t here for flowers anyway,” he said, slowly stepping toward you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Your number would be a good start,” he said with a cocky smile, reaching out as if to touch your arm.

Before he could make contact, an arm suddenly pulled him back. Startled, you watched as his head snapped toward the figure standing behind him—the man in the mask and baseball cap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the masked man asked, his voice low and commanding.

The cocky man’s confidence vanished in an instant. “Uh—nothing. Sorry!” he stammered before bolting out of the shop, the bell jingling violently as the door slammed behind him.

You huffed, rubbing your arms as you looked at the masked man. “Wow, that was scary. Thanks,” you said, your gaze now focused on him. Something about him caught your attention—his peek of black hair beneath the cap, his smooth voice, his familiar presence.

“Hey… wait!” you exclaimed, realization dawning. “You’re that guy—”

He tensed, hands raised defensively. “Wait, wait!” he interrupted, wincing as you grabbed the broom and swatted him with it.

“Why did you just bolt out of here with my precious flower?” you asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “Something… happened. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and held it out cautiously, still eyeing the broom. “Here, I didn’t pay for the flower. I came back to fix that.”

You took the card skeptically, lowering the broom. He had helped you just now, and honestly, stealing a flower of all things seemed odd for a thief.

Heading back to the counter, you swiped his card and handed it back. “So, did your mom like the flower?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, yes. She loved it,” he said, a shy smile creeping across his face.

You beamed at him, and your mood instantly lifted. “That’s great! I’m glad it worked out.”

The shop fell into a comfortable quiet as he glanced around. The soft glow of the shop’s lights bathed the room in warmth, the scent of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you closing?” he asked after a moment, his voice curious.

You clapped your hands, laughing. “Oh! Yes, I am. I completely forgot!” Quickly, you disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with your bag slung over your shoulder and your apron folded in your hands.

“Follow me,” you said with a wave, walking toward the entrance.

He trailed behind you, watching as you locked the door and tucked your keys into your bag. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a warm light over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked under it.

“Well, this is where I say goodbye. Thanks again for earlier,” you said with a small smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Are you heading home? I could take you.” He gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “I would, but I don’t think it’s smart for a young lady to hop into the car of a man whose name she doesn’t know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. “But you can walk me to the bus stop over there,” you offered, pointing down the street.

His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you began walking side by side, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between you. As you reached the bus stop, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you again for helping me earlier… and for coming back,” you said, your voice soft.

He nodded, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Of course. I guess I owe you for leaving so suddenly yesterday,” he said with a shy laugh.

As your bus approached, he stepped back, the glow of the headlights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Will you be stopping by again?” you asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

You smiled as you stepped onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the bus pulled away, you caught sight of him standing there, watching you leave, the brim of his cap tilted just enough to shield his face from view.

After that day, he started stopping by your shop around closing time more often. At first, it was casual—an excuse to chat or linger in the comforting atmosphere of the flower shop. But soon, it became a routine you secretly looked forward to.

You learned that Park Sunghoon was funny, sly, and much more interesting than he initially let on. He always seemed more curious about you than willing to talk about himself. Every time you tried to ask questions about his life, he’d expertly change the subject, steering the conversation back to you. It bummed you out a little—not knowing much about him—but the way he listened to you and genuinely seemed interested in your stories made it hard to hold it against him.

Tonight was no different. He strolled in just as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the shop aglow with warm, golden light.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs near the counter.

You looked up from the bouquets you were prepping, he wasn't wearing his mask today. “Hey, Sunghoon.”

He leaned against the counter, watching as you worked. His gaze softened as you expertly arranged the blooms into delicate patterns.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You paused, glancing back at him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Flowers help people express feelings they can’t say. I like to express my love and passion through them, and I think the different meanings of each flower are amazing.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darting toward the bouquet you were holding—a mix of pink and red roses. “Yeah? And what do those mean?”

“Blooming love,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to place the bouquet on display.

He gulped, his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” you asked a little too eagerly, stepping closer.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, go somewhere with me? Sometime? When you’re free?”

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m free now.”

His eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “Now? But I… I didn’t dress up or anything…”

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. “Neither did I. It doesn’t matter. You look cute.”

He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

With the shop locked up and the sun lingering just above the horizon, you and Sunghoon walked down the quiet street. The gentle buzz of the city surrounded you, and the scent of flowers still clung to you from the shop.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I figured we’d just wander a bit, see where we end up,” he said with a small smile. “Unless you have a better idea?”

You shook your head, enjoying the spontaneity. “Nope, that works for me.”

As you walked, you found yourselves at a quaint park tucked away from the busy streets. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pink petals floating gently on the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes scanning the scene.

Sunghoon nodded, glancing at you. “Yeah… it is.”

You both settled onto a bench near the pond, where ducks paddled lazily in the water. A food cart nearby caught your attention, and you laughed softly. “Ice cream?”

He followed your gaze and grinned. “Absolutely. Stay here—I’ll get it.”

You watched him jog over to the cart, noticing how relaxed he looked for the first time. When he returned, he handed you a cone with a bashful smile.

“Vanilla,” he said. “I guessed.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, taking a small bite. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The warm light of the setting sun danced on the water, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blossoms around you.

“So, Sunghoon,” you said, breaking the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself, or are you planning to stay mysterious forever?”

He chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just like listening to you talk.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer.”

He hesitated, then turned to meet your eyes. “Someday. I promise.”

“Can't I even see your full face?” You asked nervously.

He looked at you and thought about it. He has known you for a good bit of time now, you don’t seem to know him for who he is, so he took a risk he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He slowly took the baseball cap off and looked at you with caution.

You slowly smiled and him and looked down. “You shouldn’t hide a handsome face like yours, “ you said giggling.

He blinked and felt heat creep up his neck.

He looked at the bush behind the bench and plucked one of the flowers that was on it. “I don’t know what it means but I can tell It suits you,” he said softly, holding up the pink petal and placing it behind your ear.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Thanks.”

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you decided to keep wandering through the park. The cherry blossom trees seemed to create a magical canopy above you, the soft glow of lanterns adding a warm touch to the atmosphere. You noticed Sunghoon stealing glances at you as you walked, but every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, pretending to admire the scenery instead.

As you neared a small outdoor seating area, you spotted a musician setting up his guitar. A small crowd began gathering, and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow.

“Let’s sit and listen for a while,” you suggested.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you found a seat nearby. The musician strummed a few chords before launching into a soft, acoustic rendition of a pop song. You tapped your fingers against your knees, nodding along to the melody.

“You into music much?” Sunghoon asked casually, leaning back against the bench.

You shrugged. “Not really. I don’t keep up with social media or anything, so I don’t know much about what’s trending. I mostly just listen to whatever’s playing on the radio in the shop.”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, then shifted in his seat, suddenly looking a little too interested in the gravel path in front of him. “Oh… really? No social media?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile. “It’s too exhausting to keep up with. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no reason. Just… not many people are like that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. “What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to a lot of music.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Music’s kind of… important to me.”

“Oh? What kind of music do you like?”

Before he could answer, the musician transitioned into a song that made a few people in the crowd cheer. You tilted your head, listening closely. The melody was catchy, but you couldn’t place it.

“I think I’ve heard this one before,” you said thoughtfully. “Isn’t it by that group… what are they called again? En… something?”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. “Enhypen,” he said quickly, his voice a little too steady.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you said, snapping your fingers. “They’re okay, I guess. Some of their songs are nice, but it’s not really my thing.”

He turned to you so fast that you thought he might have hurt his neck. “Okay?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.

You blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, they’re good, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them. Why? Are you a fan or something?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. “I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “You could say I know a lot about them.”

You chuckled, completely unaware of his internal struggle. “Well, that’s cool. I’ve probably heard more of their songs than I realize. You know how it is—songs play everywhere, but you don’t always know who’s singing them.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, looking like he was fighting the urge to say something. Finally, he let out a breath and crossed his arms. “Enhypen is… more than just ‘okay.’”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Wow, you must be a fan. Don’t worry, I’ll give them another chance.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

The musician wrapped up his performance, and the crowd began to disperse. As you stood to leave, Sunghoon glanced at you, his nervous energy from earlier now replaced with quiet amusement.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said as you walked side by side.

“A deal?” you repeated, curious.

He nodded. “Every time we hang out, I’ll show you some songs, and you have to give me your honest opinion. But you have to promise to really listen.”

You smiled at him, enjoying the way his confidence seemed to return. “Deal. But only if you tell me more about yourself in return.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

You and Sunghoon kept going on more and more dates after that first one.

He was always kind and attentive, never pushing boundaries or trying anything beyond the occasional lingering gaze or shy smile. But that’s precisely what started to bother you. You wanted more. You’d made moves to take things further, even inviting him into your apartment after he dropped you off one night. But he’d quickly dismissed himself with a polite excuse.

It honestly made you insecure. Was he just playing with you? Was this something casual for him? You couldn’t help but wonder, especially when he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

Now, on yet another date, Sunghoon seemed even more cautious than usual, glancing over his shoulder constantly, his cap and mask firmly in place despite the intimate setting.

“Hoon,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone as you set down your fork. “What’s up with you?”

You were at a cozy dinner spot, the kind of place where no one batted an eye at couples sharing shy smiles over candlelight. Yet, Sunghoon seemed distant, his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around the room like he was expecting something—or someone.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“We’re at dinner, for God’s sake. Why do you still have the mask on?” You sighed, leaning closer to him. “Seriously, can you just talk to me? What’s going on?”

“Listen, Y/N—” he began, but before he could finish, a loud squeal pierced the air.

You turned toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the blinding flashes of cameras. A group of girls was pointing and taking pictures, their excited chatter growing louder by the second.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened in panic. He grabbed your hand and bolted out the door, pulling you behind him as a crowd of fans followed closely.

“Sunghoon!” you gasped, struggling to keep up. “I can’t run much longer!”

“Just hold on! We’re almost there!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

After weaving through alleys and streets, he led you to a sleek black car parked inconspicuously. He opened the door in a hurry and ushered you inside, quickly jumping in after you. The driver sped off before you even had a chance to process what had just happened.

Out of breath, you turned to look behind you, watching the wave of girls shrink into the distance. Then you shifted your gaze to Sunghoon, who was fixing his disheveled hair.

“What the hell is going on?!” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration.

“Sir, where to?” the driver asked calmly as if this were a normal occurrence.

“Her apartment, please,” Sunghoon replied quickly before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, please… I’ll explain everything when we get there. Just—just give me a chance to explain.”

You pulled your hands away from him as he reached for you, your trust shaken.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. You stared out the window, your thoughts spiraling. What could he possibly be hiding that would explain this?

When you finally reached your apartment, you stormed up the stairs, Sunghoon trailing close behind. You unlocked the door and threw your belongings onto the couch, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Y/N, please listen—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, needing a distraction. The news channel popped up, and you froze when you saw your face on the screen, standing beside Sunghoon.

The headline read: “Park Sunghoon from rising K-pop group ENHYPEN spotted on a date?”

Your head snapped toward him, and his panicked expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, your voice dangerously calm.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No… it’s the truth. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Didn’t want it to change anything? Sunghoon, if you’d told me this from the beginning, I could’ve understood! But instead, you left me in the dark, and made me question everything!”

His face fell, and he knelt in front of you, his voice breaking. “Y/N, you’re not a joke to me. You’re so much more than that. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid you’d treat me differently like everyone else does.”

“Is that what you thought of me? After all the time we’ve spent together, that’s what you got?”

He looked up at you, eyes wide with regret. “No, that’s not—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I think you should leave, Sunghoon.”

The use of his full name hit him like a blow. He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to argue, but the coldness in your expression stopped him.

“Please… just let me make it up to you,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away. “I need time to think this over.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing and walking to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back at you one last time before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The room felt unbearably quiet.

A few hours after the incident with Sunghoon, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, two men in sharp suits stood there, their expressions professional yet apologetic.

“Miss Y/N?” one of them asked, confirming your identity.

“Yes?” you replied cautiously, your grip tightening on the doorframe.

“We’re representatives from Sunghoon’s agency,” the man said. His tone was calm, but the mention of Sunghoon’s name immediately caused your chest to tighten.

“We need to discuss the current situation,” the other man added. “May we come in?”

You hesitated, debating whether to slam the door in their faces or let them speak. Against your better judgment, you stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

The two men sat on your couch, their serious expressions only adding to your unease.

“We’re here to inform you that, due to the recent media coverage and fan activity, it’s in your best interest to lay low for a while,” one of them began. “The situation has escalated, and we’re concerned for your privacy and safety.”

Your heart sank. “Lay low?” you echoed, already dreading where this was going.

“Yes,” the other man confirmed. “The company will compensate you for any financial losses during this time, including your shop’s closure. We’re prepared to cover all expenses until the situation deescalates.”

The mention of your shop caused a lump to form in your throat. “You want me to close my shop?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“It’s only temporary,” the first man assured you. “Once things settle, you can resume your normal routine.”

You nodded numbly, but their words offered no comfort. As the two men stood to leave, they handed you a card with a number to call if you needed anything. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out,” one of them said.

After they left, you shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The shop was more than just a job to you—it was your sanctuary, the place where you felt most at peace. The thought of staying away from it, from the vibrant blooms and quiet hum of your safe space, only added to the ache in your chest.

The weight of everything was suffocating. You’d already lost your connection with Sunghoon, and now you were being forced to step away from the one thing that gave you solace. It felt as though your entire world was unraveling, piece by piece.

As you sat on the couch staring at the card in your hand, tears welled up in your eyes. You didn’t blame Sunghoon for this—not entirely—but the situation had left you feeling isolated and lost.

Two weeks had passed, and there was still no word from Sunghoon. You knew this silence was your own doing—you had asked for space—but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

After the incident, Sunghoon had left long strings of heartfelt messages apologizing, explaining, and pleading for you to hear him out. But after a week of silence from you, the messages stopped. The sudden quiet felt heavier than you anticipated, and you hated how much you longed to see his name pop up on your screen again.

The company still hadn’t given you the green light to reopen your shop, leaving you trapped in an endless cycle of isolation and overthinking. The emptiness weighed on you, and your apartment felt colder than usual.

As you sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your camera roll, your heart tightened when you stumbled upon a photo from your first date with Sunghoon. It was a selfie of you both at the park. You were smiling brightly at the camera while Sunghoon, with his cap, pulled low, was looking at you instead of the lens. You couldn’t help but stare at the image, remembering the butterflies you’d felt that day.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Confused, you got up slowly, not expecting any visitors. When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and a soft, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice calm but nervous.

You looked at the flowers, then back at him. “Hi,” you replied softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Sunghoon entered, turning to face you as you closed the door. Without a word, you walked to the couch and patted the spot beside you, silently asking him to sit. He followed your lead, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before taking a seat next to you.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am,” he began, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m not great at expressing myself, but I need you to know that I never saw you as a joke. I wasn’t messing with you—not ever.”

You nodded, staying quiet as you listened, your eyes focused on him.

“Every time you tried to get closer to me, I… I panicked,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I kept thinking about who I am, about my life and how messy it can get. I was scared—scared that if we got too close, you’d realize how much baggage I carry and leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But I’ve realized something, Y/N. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and your heart swelled. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love he was finally laying bare.

“Hoon…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across your face. Without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and his hands instinctively found their way to your waist. He gazed into your eyes before his gaze dropped to your lips. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and sweet, full of the emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. As the kiss deepened, he gently eased you back onto the couch, his arm bracing him above you while his other hand cupped your cheek.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against your shoulder, holding you close. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Your eyes landed on the bouquet on the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

He lifted his head, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You gestured to the flowers. “What do these mean, Hoon?”

He glanced at them and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I just grabbed all the red ones. I figured they’d all mean love or something.”

You pointed to one in the arrangement. “That one means death, you know.”

His eyes widened in panic. “What?! That’s not what Google said!” He quickly reached for the bouquet, inspecting it frantically.

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. It took him a moment to realize you were teasing him. He groaned, leaning back with a playful glare. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Still laughing, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It was a little funny.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The day before, Sunghoon had been pacing in the practice room, his phone in hand.

“What flowers should I get her?” he muttered, scrolling through countless search results.

“Sunghoon, please, just pick one and go talk to her already,” Sunoo groaned from the couch, watching his friend spiral.

“You don’t get it” Sunghoon snapped. “Flowers are really important to her.”

“Then just get her roses,” Riki chimed in from the corner. “Simple but classic.”

“She deserves more than simple,” Sunghoon mumbled, still fixated on his phone.

“Sunghoon!” Riki and Sunoo yelled in unison, exasperated.

[itsnesss]

𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 | se-mi (player 380) × fem!reader

summary | you are saved by player 380 during the 'red light, green light' game. they form an alliance to survive

warnings | intense fear and suspense, gunshots and loud noises, psychological tension and distrust, temporary alliance for survival

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The air is heavy, thick like a storm about to burst. You don't remember how you got here. You only know that the white walls and oppressive silence leave no room for thoughts. You’re surrounded by strangers, all wearing the same expression: fear and desperation. Your legs tremble as you try to convince yourself that this is all a dream. A bad dream you’ll wake from.

The mechanical voice announces the beginning of the first game. You line up with the others, your heart pounding wildly. A massive figure, a doll with braids, watches you from the other end of the field. The contrast between her childish voice and the threat she represents turns your stomach.

“Red light, green light.”

The phrase sounds innocent, but the first burst of gunfire shatters any illusion. You watch people fall like ragdolls. The ground turns red, and the air fills with muffled screams. You want to run, scream, but your legs won’t respond.

You don’t dare move. Not yet.

When the doll turns her head, you feel cold sweat trickle down your neck. You force yourself to take one step, then another. Every time the doll sings, the world seems to freeze. You barely breathe. The fear is a knot in your throat that threatens to choke you.

Around you, people move with the same caution. Some stagger, others barely hide their panic. Every gunshot makes you jump.

You take another step. Just one more, you tell yourself. But then it happens.

Someone behind you trips. You don’t know who, or what made them fall, but the impact is enough to push you forward. Your arms flail in the air as you lose your balance. You see the ground coming, and think: *This is the end.*

Before you can hit the ground, a hand grabs you firmly.

A girl. Her face is serious, her eyes dark and focused. She doesn’t say anything, just stabilizes you with a swift motion, making sure you don’t fall.

The doll’s song ends just as you manage to stand still. Your breath is chaotic, but she doesn’t release your arm.

“Stay still,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

The silence is absolute as the doll turns its head. You feel like your heart will explode. When she finally starts singing again, the girl lets go of your arm and takes a step forward.

“Come,” she says, without looking at you.

You hesitate for a moment, but her words carry a weight you can’t ignore. You follow her.

She moves with calculated, precise movements. She seems to know exactly how to move, how to stay in control. You, on the other hand, stagger with every step, and fear threatens to paralyze you.

“Don’t fall behind,” she says, her tone brooking no argument.

You nod, though you’re not sure if she can see you. You try to imitate her rhythm, keep her pace. But it’s difficult. The doll’s song, the gunshots, the screams… everything mixes into a deafening noise that fills your head.

You take another step. Another. The end of the field seems as far away as the horizon.

You stop when she does, and every time the doll sings, you try not to breathe. You know that any movement, no matter how small, could be your last.

The girl keeps moving, and you follow her as if your life depends on it. Because, in reality, it does.

Then, the finish line appears on the horizon. It’s so close, yet so far.

“Run when I do,” she says. Her voice is low, but firm.

“What?” you murmur, dazed.

“Just do it.”

The song starts again, and you freeze. The seconds feel like hours. Every fiber of your being is tense, waiting for the moment when she moves.

When she does, you run after her.

Your legs burn, your heart races uncontrollably, but you don’t stop. Every step is a fight against time.

“Let’s go!” she shouts, glancing back to make sure you’re following.

The line is just a few meters away, but the song ends before you can reach it. You both freeze in place.

Silence returns, broken only by the gunshots behind you. You don’t dare look. You can’t.

When the song starts again, she grabs your hand.

“Run,” she says.

And you do. Together, you cross the line just as the song ends for the last time.

You collapse onto the ground, unable to hold yourself up. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath. Around you, the screams and gunshots continue, but you can’t process them.

She kneels beside you, still holding your hand. Her breath is heavy, but her face remains as serious as ever.

“Thank you…” you whisper, your voice breaking.

She looks at you for a moment, then nods.

“Don’t fall behind again,” she says. Her tone isn’t kind, but it’s not cold either.

You try to smile, though your lips tremble.

“I’ll try.”

She doesn’t respond but doesn’t let go of your hand.

The world around you starts to calm, but you can’t shake the chaos inside. Player 380 stands next to you, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Finally, she turns, as if nothing happened.

“Wait,” you manage to say, shakily getting up.

She doesn’t stop.

“Hey!” you insist, taking a few quick steps toward her. You catch up to her before she can merge with the group that’s now gathering at the end of the field.

Player 380 turns, her dark eyes watching you with a mix of irritation and exhaustion.

“What?”

Her tone is cold, but you’re not intimidated. Not after what just happened.

“Thank you for saving me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

“I did it because I didn’t want you to get me killed with your clumsy moves,” she replies, shrugging.

You know she’s not entirely serious. You see something in her eyes, something she’s reluctant to admit. You don’t want to let the moment slip away.

“Still, you helped me. Don’t forget, I owe you one.”

Se-mi looks at you in silence for a few seconds that feel eternal. Finally, she lets out a sigh and shakes her head.

“Do what you want, but don’t follow me.”

“Why not? If we work together, we have a better chance of surviving.”

“Work together?” she repeats, as if the idea seems strange to her. She looks toward the group, then toward the doll, which stands still in the distance. Finally, her attention returns to you. There’s a pause, as if she’s considering your words.

“This isn’t a team game,” she finally says.

“But it could be if you and I make one,” you reply quickly, holding on to the small opening you sense in her attitude.

Se-mi frowns, clearly uncomfortable. But she doesn’t pull away.

“Listen, I don’t trust anyone here,” she says.

“Neither do I,” you admit. “But I’m not going to survive alone. And neither are you.”

She lets out another sigh, this time longer, as if giving in to the idea.

“Alright. An alliance. But only for convenience.”

“Only for convenience,” you repeat, though deep down, you feel a small spark of relief.

“And one more thing,” Se-mi adds, pointing a finger at you. “If you start acting like a burden, I’ll leave you behind.”

You nod, understanding that this is her way of protecting herself.

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?” she asks finally, though the question seems to cost her.

You hesitate for a moment before saying it. She nods, but doesn’t offer hers.

“Stay close,” she murmurs.

For the first time since you entered this hellish place, you feel like you have a small chance of getting out alive. In a place where trust can cost you your life, you decide that risking it with her will be your best bet.

For now.

[llively-12]

School sucks! Right?

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Minatozaki Sana x female reader

Warnings: very fluffy, sappy date, mentions of the band weezer

Story: The date between Sana and Y/n.

Authors Note: Thanks for all the support and a big smooch to the person who requested a part 2. Sorry for the long wait, I had a lot of stuff to do the last few days. Also, this is a bit short. Anyways, enjoy the read♥︎

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Weezer plays through the headphones of Y/n as she gets ready for the date with Sana. A week has passed since the popular girl asked her out. Since then, Sana has only gotten clingier and more affectionate. She would walk you to class and kiss your cheek goodbye.

You were very shy in the beginning. Sana loved to tease you. She would often whisper stuff into your ear or playfully put her hand on your thigh. It was really only harmless stuff like this, but it filled your heart up. Nobody ever made the decision to act like that with you.

Sana made everything special. Walks around the town, calls late at night, doing homework together, or building Legos. She insisted on doing everything together. Every little task had to be a two person activity.

You look into your closet. Sweaters and band shirts meet your gaze. What does one wear to a date? You always see people overdressed when they are out on a date. Yet, this is a date to the aquarium. So, arriving in something fancy would be off-putting.

Sana always chose something cute. She often went for a skirt with either an oversized hoodie or a super cute top. The outfit mostly finished up with some nice shoes and a matching hair style.

She always made an effort to look cute for you. It was natural for her to dress like this. Your style usually consisted of looking like a five year old boy.

At last, you settle for something comfortable. What makes your outfit stand out is the whale shark shirt. It was a gift from one of your family members. You asked for it after getting a hyper fixation on sea life and underwater animals.

The song changes to 'motion picture soundtrack' by radiohead. The soft tones of the song keep you calm. You spent almost all of your free time listening to music. Organising playlists or creating them is like a job to you. Each music style or mood would get their own playlist.

Your walls even managed to get some pictures with Sana and you on them. Most of the pictures taken in the moment by Momo and Mina. Some others were set up with cute poses, well your poses mostly consisted of thumbs up.

There was one picture situated near your bed, which showed you and Sana sitting closely together. Sana kisses your cheek while your face is heating up. The picture was taken by Mina in the park. She was mostly third wheeling when the three of you hung out.

Things started to change after Sana confessed. You took your time with her and left your room more often. She would try and engage in your hobbies, and so did you. It is a bit cheesy if you think about it.

♡

You put a few songs on a playlist before leaving the house. Sana and you would meet up at the aquarium. The ride there is peaceful. You listen to music and admire the landscape. It is a longer way into the town since you live in the countryside.

On the way there you buy a bouquet of Sana's favourite flowers. She always appreciates the gifts that you give her. You nervously approach the aquarium. It was actually you that suggested the date at the aquarium. You always dreamed of going there with your lover.

Sana waits in front of the entrance. She looks around the crowd of people until her eyes meet yours. A smile forms on her face. She runs up to you and hugs you tightly. You almost fall over. Sana leans in and kisses your cheek.

"Hey honey." She smiles, and let's go of you after a few seconds. You hand her the flowers, and her face brightens up even more. You just love seeing her happy.

You take her hand and give her knuckles a shy kiss. A giggle erupts from both of you. Sana interwines your hands and leads you inside the aquarium.

♡

The two of you stroll through the darkened hallways of the aquarium. You read through all of the text and make mental notes on some fun facts. Sana takes pictures. Yet her camera roll keeps filling with pictures of you rather than the sea animals. She smiles softly while seeing you in your element.

At some point, you hand her one of your earbuds and turn on the playlist that you made this morning. You explain some of the artists to her and invite her to the playlist so that she can put in some songs herself.

You listen to music and admire the different fish. You two hold hands while silently enjoying the date. It's perfect for both of you. Sana can show her affection while you can enjoy the quiet atmosphere. Sana keeps stealing some glances at you. She basically has heart eyes.

After half an hour, the museum comes to an end. Only a few tanks and some dark corners are left. Sana smiles and pulls you into a quiet corner. She grins at you. Her face is tinted blue.

"What are we doing?" You ask curiously. Sana shushes you and lays her hand on your cheek. Her touch is soft and gentle. Her eyes fleet over to your lips. She looks up into your eyes and silently asks for permission. You nod slowly and close your eyes. You feel her lips on yours almost a few seconds later. The feeling is mind blowing.

The kiss has a gentleness that is unreal. Sana does not pressure you into anything. It's rather a shy peck at first, but after a moment of thinking, you lean in and kiss her two. Her mouth fits perfectly with yours. She holds your face while you hold onto her waist. Your bodies lean into each other and connect just in the right ways.

The blue hue adds the right amount of perfection to the moment. You don't stop kissing her until your lungs remind you that you need to breathe. She pulls away first and glances into your eyes. You smile and lean in for a few more pecks.

"That was awesome." You happily exclaim and smile with overjoy. Sana grins and laughs slightly at your sentence. It's just the amount of loser that she loves about you. She grabs your hand, and the two of you make your way towards the exit of the aquarium.

You stop by the souvenir shop. Different posters, shirts, and other merchandise fill up the walls. After careful consideration, Sana chooses two matching key chains. One whale shark for you and one for her. She even buys you a new poster for your room.

♡

The ride back to your hometown is mostly silent, a comfortable silence that neither of you want to disturb. The playlist keeps going with songs that match the situation. Right now, a song by the cocteau twins is playing. The sound lulls you into a state of comfort.

Sana's hand is still interwined with yours. Her thumb occasionally carrying your hand. It's a habit she often does when she is deep in thought.

She walks you back home and gives you a kiss before disappearing off to her own house. The date went by very well.

At home, you print out some pictures, Sana, and you took over the course of the date. You smile at some of the moments and grin at the silly poses she does. The pictures find their way on your wall, alongside the new poster Sana bought.

You send her a photo of the new additions to your wall. She responds quickly with a small text and a few kissing emojis. You smile and keep listening to your playlist while thinking about your day.

Your thoughts go back to the kiss Sana and you shared. A warm feeling spread through your body while you remind yourself of how soft her lips feel.

♡

Sana curls up in her bed with her pillow. She posts a story on her socials, sharing her cute date with you. Mina and Momo tease her for the sappy relationship stuff, which erupts in a playful banter between the trio. Sana feels so happy to have her friends and, of course, you.

Her wall is filled with pictures of friends and some photos of you that she took. She grins at the thought of how excited you looked throughout the date. She would give everything to see that face every day.

Also, her thoughts fall back to the kiss. She smiles and relives the memory in her head until her eyes close, and she falls asleep, dreaming of you and the many more dates you two would have.

♡

[vyl3tpwny]

genuine question: why is genesis so low on ur topsters?

also, if you can: could i hear why hawaii: part ii is rated 3.5 on ur rateyourmusic? (as opposed to like. anything higher)

(p. s. your music inspires me to be the sincerest version of myself, and for that i thank you. the impact you've had on my life is unforgettable.)

genesis isn't rated low. my number one album of all time is genesis' "the lamb lies down on broadway", for about 16 years running. my topster is organized by relative colour, it's not perfect but it just looks nice!

—

when it comes to talking about music, what i like and like about it, almost 100% of the time i NEVER want to discourage people, talk down to artists, or claim my opinion as fact. the only time i will actively talk down about art is if it's purposefully harmful (see artists like: Tom Macdonald, etc).

with that said, music by miracle musical - and by extension tally hall - often does this thing where there are a handful of really impressive, well written songs that just blow me away. but then the rest of the album outside of those handful of songs are either just ok/catchy or don't interest me very much. the tally hall gang's highs are very high, and equally their lows are just sort of pace-killers for the albums.

it's dynamics like these that prevent me from liking some of my other albums for similar problems! i think albums like queen of misfits and glitter are bogged down by an absurd amount of boring filler that could have just been left out or reworked to be more interesting, it makes it hard to ever listen to those albums front to back. ironically i don't feel that way about fairytails, my 40-song long ass album, almost everything in it still feels rather purposeful to me. i listen to my own music a lot, and once i've finished a project i tend to try and listen to it and enjoy it from an audience perspective rather than an artist one.

while i'm on the topic, i don't necessarily agree with even rating hawaii pt. ii 3.5 because in the past few years i've completely lost interest in the idea of weighing albums by arbitrary scores. nowadays i like to just give 4-5's to albums i like and then ignore anything else. it doesn't really make sense to me to assign a number score to something with good faith, other than to show that score to other people. interfacing with art is not a black and white process. despite the so-called 3.5/5.0 score i gave hawaii pt. ii whenever that was, the reality is that record has influenced me and i've enjoyed it. honestly that's what matters the most. we can sit here and talk album dynamics, technicalities, compositional proficiency, lyric profundity, and """""consistency"""""" (which is a word music critics love to throw around without actually realizing what the fuck they're talking about) all day, but what matters the most is:

Did you like the music? (Yes/No)

Did it inspire you in some way? (Yes/No) [Optional]

Does it seek to do harm? (Yes/No)

Do you respect the efforts and goals of the artist? (Yes/No) [Should always be the inverse of Question 3; i.e; if you answer No to 3, then you should answer Yes to 4]

honestly if you answer yes, yes, no, yes, then it's a good album. i really don't care. not every piece of art has to push the envelope to new heights and be the most innovative thing in the world - i mean wouldn't that be extremely fatiguing and overwhelming? everyone wants to be a critic and tear down shit that doesn't click with them within the first viewing/listen these days, i don't know why, it's probably an ego thing, bred by the echo chambers in the corners of the internet. but a lot of music criticism can be COMPLETELY discarded in favour of "this just isn't for me", and a lot of people go leaps and bounds, doing mental gymnastics over internal compensations, to just avoid saying the dreaded phrase of "this just isn't for me".

trust me, i'm someone who has immense experience with tearing other people down to compensate for my internal insecurities, it happens extremely often which is why a lot of art criticism makes ZERO fucking sense. it's never about making meaningful commentary about anything, it's always just trying to justify in the format of a dissertation - the subjective experience of "this just isn't for me".

so. do i like hawaii pt. ii? yep. is it a perfect album? no. why did i rate it 3.5? probably because at the time i wanted someone somewhere to perceive me as Very Articulated and Well Educated In The Realm of Discussing Art In Front of Other People, in Order to Appear Superior in Intellect and Refined in Taste, Because I'm Insecure Just Like Everyone Else.

[morgana-larkin]

Alright so I got this prompt messaged to me by @dreamer-329 : Hi I have read almost all your fanfics and I love them a lot, I saw you are fine with receiving prompts and while I was listening to music this song came on and I got an idea haha

Hearing this song made me think that this would be a perfect club song for Melissa x reader, song is Mi casa su casa by Omar Rudberg, here is what i thought of but you can spin this however you see best fits, Melissa is out with some of the Abbott crew and she sees R dancing and is into them, they briefly bump into each other at the bar ordering drinks but nothing happens until R is dancing to this song and they look at Melissa(who is already watching them) and sing the lyrics while staring intently at her and dancing more provocative by every line they sing (I can see it in your eyes

This is what you came for

Baby, don't be shy

Because you got something I've been wanting

A long, long time

And I got something you've been wanting

That's no crime 'cause

You got a body

I got a body

Let's have a party

Mi casa su casa)

I thought this was a cute and smutty idea and wrote it over the holidays. I just finished it and I definitely had to edit it as I wrote most of it when I was not sober and some of it made no fucking sense. Hope you like it!

On another note: I’m working on 3 other prompts for Mel atm so be patient! Especially as I might need a moment after I saw the dress Lisa wore to the golden globes…😮‍💨

Mi Casa or Su Casa

Warnings: smut, teasing, teacher-student role play (small part)

Words: 2.6k

“I still don’t get why youse dragging me out.” Melissa complains as they all step into a bar.

“Because we all could use some fun after the week we’ve had.” Janine says excitedly and they all find a table to sit at. “I’ll buy the first round, what does everyone want?” Janine asks and everyone gives their order to her and she goes to the bar to order.

Melissa looks around the bar and sees a few people dancing to the song that the DJ is playing. She sees a few other people scattered around the bar, most in conversations with the other people at their table. Janine comes back a few minutes later and passes everyone their drink.

“Here’s to putting up with all the golf course construction.” Jacob says and they all cheers to that.

A couple rounds later and they’re all looser, even Melissa. Melissa then notices a few people walk by the table and she looks to see a few young women walking by. One of them turns around once they find a table and Melissa does a double take.

You decided to go out with your friends after you were ready to come back out after a breakup and one of your friends suggested a bar where you can all dance. You walk into the bar and you pass by a group of people at a table and then one of your friends decides on a table and you turn around to sit in a chair. You look around the bar and you notice a ginger woman staring at you and you smile and wave at her. She smiles back at you and then joins the conversation at her table.

You notice her keep glancing at you and then she goes to get up and walks to the bar. You get up with the excuse of getting the next round even though you just got the previous one and you go to meet her at the bar.

“Hi.” You say and she turns to look at you and you smile.

“Hi.” She says. “I’m Melissa.” She adds on and you shake her hand.

“I’m Y/n. Melissa is a beautiful name, it suits you.” You tell her and she smiles with a slight blush “So I’ve noticed this hot ginger staring at me for the past hour. Would you know anything about that?” You ask her and she pretends to think about it then shakes her head.

“Not a thing, but maybe she thinks you’re cute.” She tells you and you smile.

“Well I think you’re cute as well.” You tell her and then the bartender brings her drinks and she takes them.

“I gotta go bring these to my friends but maybe I’ll see you around.” She says and then walks away, with a slight sway to her hips. You watch her walk away and then the bartender asks what you want to get and you order all the drinks.

You go back to the table with your friends and then they ask you all about that woman you were talking to.

“I don’t know anything about her other than her name is Melissa.” You say to all of them.

“Then go talk to her more, or even go ask her to dance.” One of your friends suggests.

“She’s busy with her friends right now.” You tell them and they look over at the table.

“Go up and ask her to dance.” They tell you. “Or you can dance seductively and get her to come to you.” They add and you think about it and decide to do that. The next song comes on and you get up and go to the dance floor. You know the song that comes on and you also start singing as well as dancing to it.

“Well woman the way the time cold, I wanna be keeping you warm. I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm.” You sing and move your hips along to the song. You also have your hands up in the air as well as everyone else who’s dancing and it makes your shirt go up and anyone can see your belly button. “Oh lord, girl, I got the right tactics to turn you on. And girl I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom, oh-oh.” You sing out and you quickly glance and see that Melissa is watching you and you smile before you keep dancing to the song. The next song comes a couple minutes later and you instantly recognize the guitar beat.

You swing your hips to the beat before the lyrics start and you decide to go a bit further with your seductive movements to see if she’ll come to you.

“Mi casa su casa. I’ve been watching you all night, over on the dance floor.” You sing out and you look at Melissa and you see she’s still watching you. You decide to keep your eyes on her while you still keep dancing. “I can see it in your eyes, this is what you came for.” You continue while you run your hands down the side of your body and you see Melissa grabs her drink and take a sip. “Baby, don’t be shy, because you got something I’ve been wanting, a long long time. And I got something you’ve been wanting.” You sing out and move your hips more. “That’s no crime cause, you got a body.” You sing while you point to her. “I got a body.” And then you run your hands down your chest down to your stomach. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You sing out and turn around and wiggle your butt a little.

You turn back around and you see Melissa making her way over to you and you look back at her table and see all her friends watching her. She makes her way over to you and she puts her hands on your waist while you’re still dancing and you wrap your arms around her neck. She pushes you closer until you’re pressed up against her and the next chorus is just about to play.

“That’s no crime cause, you got a body, I got a body.” You sing and she moves her hands to your back and runs her hands all over while dancing to the song with you. “Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” You continue singing. “I got a body, you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She then flips you around so your back is pushed up against her front and she runs her hands down the side of your body and she starts singing the rest.

“I’ve been looking at you all night long. From over on the dance floor, I really want to take you home.” She then places her hands on your stomach and she starts taking over the dancing, making you move in time with her. “You got a body, I got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She sings and then gets right to your ear. “I got a body, and you got a body. Let’s have a party, mi casa su casa.” She finishes singing the song but she doesn’t move away from you or let you move. “You wanted me to come to you.” She says and you smile.

“Is that a question or a comment?” You ask her and she gets you to turn around.

“A comment, staring at me while running your hands all over your body gave it away.” She tells you. “What do you want to happen?” She asks you and you shrug your shoulders.

“I haven’t thought that far.” You tell her and she shakes her head with a smile. “All I thought was getting the hot ginger that’s been staring at me to come over.” You tell her and then she cups your cheek and leans in. You lean in as well and connect your lips with hers. They feel fucking magical and much softer than you’ve imagined all night. You feel her hand move from your cheek to the back of your head and the other move to your waist.

“What would you say if I asked you mi casa or su casa?” She asks when she pulls away and you blink at her for a second before smiling.

“I’d say…su casa.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Let’s go grab our stuff and I’ll call an Uber.” She says and you nod before you speed walk to get your things.

“Where are you going?” Your friend asks.

“With the hot ginger to her place.” You say and then walk over to Melissa.

“Melissa, why are you grabbing your purse?” Barb asks and Melissa just smiles.

“I’ll see you all on Monday.” She says and then she grabs your hand and leaves.

“Can I stay at someone’s house tonight? Melissa is not as quiet as she thinks.” Jacob asks everyone.

You get in an Uber with Melissa and she rubs your thigh the entire time. Once you get to her place she takes your hand again and you quickly get out. As soon as she turns the light on to her house you get a good look at her and you’re mesmerised.

“You’re even hotter now than at the bar.” You tell her and you kiss her again. You trap her against you and the door and with the way her hands are all over your stomach and chest, she doesn’t mind. She then pushes you away, takes your hand and brings you upstairs to her room.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” She says once she closes her door.

“And what are you going to do about that?” You ask her and she smirks before taking your sweater and shirt off. You then go and take her blazer and shirt off before both of you get on the bed.

You end up straddling her lap and she unclips your bra while you’re kissing her and you help her take it off before she throws it somewhere in the room. You then unclip her bra and you throw it away without any care once you get a look at her chest.

“Do you like them?” She asks when she sees you staring at her boobs and you nod.

You go directly to her neck while you cup both her breasts and she moans into the kiss. You push her back on the bed and then you take her leather pants and underwear off. You run your hands up her smooth legs all the way up to her hips. You see her start squirming under you and you smile.

“Eager already Melissa?” You ask her.

“You were pretty much grinding on me at the bar.” She says and you snort. You then bend down and wrap your mouth around a nipple and she moans out. You switch to her other nipple and you can tell she needs it bad.

“When was the last time you had sex with someone?” You ask her and she sighs.

“A few months.” She says and you hum.

“Really? You look like someone who can’t go that long without it and someone who can get someone no problem.” You tell her.

“You’re right, and yet you’re making me wait.” She tells you and you smirk. “I mean if you won’t do anything then I’ll just- oh god.” You cut her off by circling her clit and she’s now whimpering and gasping underneath you. You’re slowly circling her clit as you want to see her slowly come undone and also have her beg for more. You watch as she squirms, trying to get her high quicker but you’re not letting her. “Please, please go faster.” She begs and you smirk before circling her clit faster.

You feel her entire body under you and you listen to her as she comes and you don’t stop. You insert 2 fingers in her dripping centre and start fingering her while circling her clit. She gasps out and bucks her hips when you insert two fingers and starts moaning at the sensitivity.

“Oh god.” She begins saying like a mantra as she gets close to her second orgasm. She squeezes around your fingers and then she comes again and she holds your hand and gets you to pull out. You then lick your fingers and taste her and you moan at the taste.

“You taste good.” You tell her and she pulls you down to her.

“You think so?” She asks and you nod. She then pulls you into a kiss and tastes herself mixed with the taste of your mouth and she loves it. “Take the rest of your clothes off.” She orders and you immediately obey. “So obedient.” She smirks as you take your pants off.

“Something about you and your tone that makes me want to obey.” You tell her and she hums.

“Wish my second graders were like that as well.” She tells you and you tilt your head.

“You’re a teacher?” You ask her and she nods. “That’s so hot.” You tell her and then kiss her.

You feel her move her hand down and then she starts circling your clit and getting you all wet before she inserts a finger in your entrance. You moan into the kiss and then she slips another one in and then starts pumping in and out of you.

“What do you find hot about me being a teacher?” She asks and you have to take a few seconds to think about what she just asked you.

“I think it’s more about thinking of you…teaching me a lesson.” You say in between moans and she smirks.

“Why would you need to get taught a lesson? Have you been a bad girl?” She asks and she feels you get wetter after saying that. She then pulls out of you and flips you both so that she’s on top. She sticks her fingers back inside of you and she smiles at you gasping and moaning. “Be a good girl for your teacher and do as I say.” She tells you and you whimper while all the moisture goes right to your pussy. “Are you that excited to be a good girl for me?” She asks and you nod. She then curls her fingers inside of you and you start seeing stars.

“I’m so close, I’m so close.” You tell her and she feels you clench around her fingers and she moans at the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.” She tells you and you immediately come, like the good girl you are.

She gets in bed beside you after helping you clean yourself up and she wraps and arm around you and you both fall asleep. The next morning Melissa wakes up and sees you’re already gone and she sighs. She walks downstairs, a bit weirdly due to last night and she sees a note.

‘Last night was fun, txt me ;)

xxx-xxx-xxxx’

She reads it with a smile and immediately puts your number in her phone and texts you.

Melissa: Hey, it’s the hot ginger. I noticed there was a girl missing in my bed this morning.

She texts it to you and then she goes to get breakfast ready but then gets a notification and sees it’s from you.

You: Hey hot ginger, maybe that should be your name in my phone 😉

You: Sorry I left, I had plans with my parents this morning but I’d like to do it again sometime if you also want to as well

Melissa: Yes I’d love to, just one question

You: What’s that?

Melissa: Mi casa or su casa?

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[mydeareid]

Until I found you ✦ Chapter 1

Spencer Reid x female!reader

summary: you became best friends when both of you needed it the most. life circumstances separeted you, but once again, destiny reunites you.

genre: fluff, angst, comfort.

word count: 1698

warnings: NOT TOTALLY PROOF READ. at the very beginning the characters are underage. besides that, i think there aren’t other warnings. please let me know if i'm missing one :)

note: hi! i'm @evanpetersmybf but different haha. i've been wanting to write for my spence and i finally had the chance to. i love him. i'm trying my best to keep him on character! also, sorry if there are any mistakes, english isn't my first language. i hope you enjoy it!

1998.

A tiny spark of sunshine peeked through the clouds. It was winter, and even though the sun was out, the air was cold as expected. Every exhale left a white trail dissolving in the icy breeze. Because of this, the park didn’t have many visitors, only some couples, a few families, and Spencer.

He loved the weather and the atmosphere. The peace of the calm environment felt comforting. Being surrounded by nature was simply beautiful; the way the leaves swayed, the sensation of the wind hitting his face and reddening his nose, the feeling of having a moment for himself was wonderful. His hands were shoved in his pants pockets as he walked down the pavement. The boy was probably freezing, but he didn’t care—it was such a nice day and he wanted to spend some time alone.

He clearly needed a break. For a long time, he had been taking care of his mother. He deeply loved her, without question. Much of what he knew, he owed to her, but being her caregiver from a young age had taken its toll, more than he would like to admit.

After walking for about ten minutes, he sat on a wooden bench in front of a frozen lake. Just when he was about to relax, someone took a seat next to him.

“Such a pretty noon, right?”

Spencer was startled by the way you broke the ice. He never expected that someone would sit right next to him out of nowhere, especially a complete stranger. He pressed her lips together and looked around. Perhaps you were talking to someone else, although when he saw no one nearby, his eyes landed on you. Torn between deciding whether to respond or not, he finally muttered a reply.

“Sure. it’s mesmerizing”.

Seconds passed as you pulled out a small notebook and a pencil. You began sketching the landscape while you hummed a song: Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson.

The man’s face showed an expression of doubt and curiosity. Why did you seem so comfortable sitting with a random person?

“I’m not trying to be rude, but do I know you?” As he spoke those words, his fingers were fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater. He was nervous. What if you were a bully? Or even worse, a thief?

“Nope, we don’t know each other. But you seemed cool… And this is the best view of the lake. I needed it for my drawing”. You put down the pencil and faced Reid, giving him the sweetest grin you could. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done. And I’m sorry if I made ya’ uncomfortable”.

Spencer shook his head and his lips formed a small yet sincere smile. “It’s okay”.

Later, when you finished your art, you turned the page and sighed. “Can I draw you?”

Once again, he was flabbergasted by something related to you. It was weird for him to experience kindness or attention like this. After years of bullying, he wasn’t used to spending time with people his age. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Eventually, he nodded.

You wasted no time and soon you made an accurate Spencer’s portrait. When you were done, you handed it to him. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you! You’re a great model”.

Reluctantly, Spencer took the paper with his slender fingers, his eyes fixed on the precious gift. He couldn’t believe someone had been friendly towards him. Usually, people mocked him for his appearance, his lack of social skills, and other quirks he had.

“Did you know paper was created in ancient China in 105 A.C.?” He was going to continue rambling, but quickly stopped, raising his hand as if to halt himself. “I… I’m sorry, sometimes I ramble. I’m Spencer. Thank you… For the drawing. It’s amazing”.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s always great to learn something new!”

The way you sounded so cheerful, so gentile, warmed his heart. People usually rolled their eyes and asked him to stop when he rambled, but you didn’t. This was new. So new that he didn’t even know how to react.

Nevertheless, you kept talking, and he kept listening, replying when you asked and when he had anything to say, and including some curious facts when he had the chance. Hours went by and you shared more about each other. You discovered that you were both seventeen, that he loved classical music and soap operas, that he graduated high school at twelve, and that he adored Doctor Who, Star Wars, and Star Trek. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship—a bond neither of you expected but both desperately needed.

To Spencer, you were an angel, an oasis in the desert, a warm blanket in winter and a refreshing lemonade in summer. He knew that he could count on you and made sure you knew you could count on him as well.

1999.

After four months of knowing each other, sometimes, he went to your place when he felt more lonely than usual; when it happened, he’d spend the night at your house as if it were a sleepover, or at least that’s how you used to call it.

Your sleepovers consisted of listening to music: The Beatles, Michael Jackson, ABBA, Queen, The Cardigans, Bonnie Tyler, Kate Bush, The Police, among others. It also included reading a book or tackling school topics you struggled with—Spencer was your human encyclopedia.

During one of those spring nights, you and Spencer were on the sofa watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch, your pick for the evening.

“Oww, Salem is so cute. I wish I had a cat”. You said wistfully.

“Did you know that if a cat owner were to die at home and the body remained undiscovered, the cat could begin to eat the owner’s remains within a few days? Studies suggest that this behavior isn’t due to malice but rather survival instincts kicking in once the food supply runs out. It’s fascinating—” Spencer blurted out in his usual rapid speech, but stopped info dumping when he saw your jaw drop and the look of shock on your face.

“I didn’t know that. Now I don’t want cats, thank you very much”. You replied, half-laughing, half-horrified.

The genius smirked and let out a small laugh. It was fun to tease you that way—it was common for him to say unsettling facts about random stuff to annoy you.

Afterward, you decided it was time for your regular music ritual. Your playlist included songs like: Boys Don’t Cry, Cheri Cheri Lady, Take on Me, Running Up That Hill, Lovefool, Creep, Forever Young, and so on.

“Why are we friends, Y/N? People normally dislike me… Why not you? I’m strange, I’m a weirdo. I don’t understand”. Spencer mumbled while Fade Into You by Mazzy Star played softly in the background. He was anxious to hear your answer. Deep down, he theorized you felt pity for him and that was the unique reason why you accepted him in your life.

“You’re special, Spence. You’re charming and lovely. It’s rare to know people like you, y’know? So smart and with so much to offer. And why would you say you’re strange? You’re Spencer Reid. You’re you. You’re an amazing person. And if being ‘strange’ is part of that, then I like it. I like you just the way you are. And you should like yourself too, Einstein”. You smiled and grabbed his left hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I hate it when you talk poorly about yourself”.

You didn’t need to look at him to know he was blushing furiously. His brain stopped working when he listened to your enchanting reply. You were the friend he was waiting for since the day he was born. And he wasn’t planning to let you go.

When you finally got tired and sleepy, you drifted off on Spencer’s shoulder and he did the same, resting his head on yours. The music kept playing, and by the time you were peacefully asleep, Every Breath You Take was filling the room.

The scene was endearing; Spencer and you looked adorable and cozy like that, and that’s why your mother decided to take a Polaroid of both of you and made sure to hide it, so you’d never know the existence of that picture.

Months went on. The dynamic between both of you remained the same.

You were there for him when he decided to place Diana, his mom, in a mental institution. That was one of the hardest choices Spencer ever made. He would often feel guilty, that’s why he started to send her letters everyday, and also because he couldn’t visit her frequently. As a result, the now eighteen-year-old began to spend entire days at your home. He even spent the next Christmases and New Years with you and your family, until he turned twenty-one and he moved to Washington.

For a year, you stayed in touch via phone calls and letters, until one day he stopped writing to you and stopped taking your calls.

2003.

The last thing you knew about him is that he was admitted into the FBI as a profiler, and since then, he completely vanished from your life.

His sudden ghosting hurt you like a hundred stabs would. You persisted in trying to reach him, but after countless failed attempts, you gave up. Years ago, you both swore you were soulmates, that nothing would separate you. Now, it seemed like an empty promise.

Spencer’s reasons for disappearing were unclear to you, and at some point, you stopped wanting to know. In reality, he had done it to protect you. He was conscious of the dangers of his new job and didn’t want to risk your safety nor make you worry about him. He knew you very well and knew you would always be concerned about his well-being. He didn’t want to be a burden. Maybe he didn’t make the best decision, but if he had spoken to you one more time, he would’ve never been able to let you go.

[thyras]

→ of yearning & longing

PAIRING → halbrand | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 4.9k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → just LOTS of yearning and longing (y'all are probably sick of that by now), angst

SUMMARY → as fate draws you both ever closer, you can't help but feel the aching of centuries apart and what they have done to you.

AUTHORS NOTE → there is a sneaky celebrimbor x reader in this just cause ya know you do not spend five centuries hanging out closely and not have some non-platonic thoughts at times. i may be going on a little hiatus with this for a little teeny bit due to school starting this week. i have lots of homework and will not have time to devote to this, i have a plan for the whole story but i just need the time to execute it and that may be a couple of weeks. outside life calls.

PARTS → one // two // three // four // five // seven

“Is that really where you came from?” The little voice chimed, trembling with wonder. Her luminous eyes, wide as the moonrise over the woods, looked up at you as though you carried the secrets of the stars in your gaze. Her delicate hands clutched the hem of your robe’s sleeve, and in that touch, you could feel her burgeoning curiosity—a flame that, with care, would burn for centuries.

Your fingers traced the edge of an ancient, weathered page, its texture rough yet familiar, like the bark of the trees you once wandered among. The book felt alive in your hands, a relic of a bygone era, steeped in the whispers of the past. You had carried it through fire and shadow, across the tumultuous escape from Beleriand, a treasure nestled beside your husband’s intricate designs and other tokens of a life left behind. This book, though—it was more than mere parchment and ink. It was a fragment of your soul.

The illuminated script told of your people’s beginnings: the Moriquendi’s deep bond with the earth, their whispers shared with the roots of ancient oaks and the flowing rivers. It recounted the tale of Thingol and Melian, whose love was like a song woven into the fabric of Arda itself. It painted a picture of the grand realms of Beleriand—Doriath’s shadowy, enchanted forests; Gondolin’s shining spires hidden amidst the mountains; Laureandor, golden and resplendent under the eternal sun. Every page sang with memory, each word resonating with the cadence of forgotten voices.

“I came from the earth itself,” you murmured, your voice soft but rich, like the hum of wind over a meadow. “Awoke when Eru sang me into being.”

The little girl’s lips parted, her breath catching as she turned the words over in her mind. Her brow furrowed, and her tiny fingers fluttered in the air as she counted, her thoughts as transparent as the clear forest streams. “But that would make you…” she paused, consulting her fingers again, “over five thousand years old.”

A smile spread across your lips, slow and indulgent, tinged with the mischief of centuries. “A lady does not reveal her age, little one,” you said, tilting your head with mock severity. “It is very impolite.”

Her eyes widened, and her small voice rushed to apologize, faltering with earnestness. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Before she could finish, you placed a hand gently atop her head, the warmth of your touch silencing her in an instant. The faint scent of the forests clung to her hair, and it brought memories of younger days. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to her brow, a benediction as ancient as you were.

“There is no need to apologize,” you said, your tone tender, carrying the weight of countless ages. “I have lived many lives, seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, and passed through the shadowed woods of Middle-earth. Yet, it is my purpose to pass on what I know, as I was created to be a keeper of memory and a weaver of stories.”

Her wonder deepened, her small face lit by an unearthly glow as if your words had planted stars in her heart. The weight of the book in your hands seemed lighter now, for in her awe, you saw the continuation of the tale, the promise of futures yet to be written.

“Telling wild stories to young ears again?”

The familiar voice carried a hint of amusement, smooth as silver ringing against stone. You turned your head, and there he was—Lord Celebrimbor. His soft brown hair caught the light as he approached, and a genial smile touched his lips. His presence was steady and reassuring, and your own lips curved into a fond smile at the sight of your old friend.

“They are not wild stories,” you retorted, a playful edge sharpening your tone. “They are histories, Celebrimbor.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich, and continued his leisurely approach until he stood beside you. His eyes flicked down to the little girl perched beside you on the stone bench. She had been listening with the rapt attention only the young possessed, her small fingers clasped tightly in her lap.

“May I borrow her for a while?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a trace of mirth.

The little girl hesitated only briefly before nodding. She turned to you, her eyes luminous with hope and longing. “Can we continue tomorrow?”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at her eagerness. “Same time,” you promised, inclining your head.

That was all she needed. With a delighted grin, she slid off the bench and ran, her fair hair catching in the soft breeze, flowing like a stream of gold as she disappeared down the path toward the town. You watched her go, warmth flooding your heart, an ache sweet and bittersweet settling in your chest.

All you had ever wanted was a family of your own—a child to hold, to nurture, to guide with the wisdom and love you carried in your light. Yet, unlike Melian and Thingol, such a blessing had never come to pass for you and Mairon. It was understandable. The shadow that lingered on the edges of his soul was not a burden that would be easily tempered. Still, in all the centuries and ages that had passed, the absence of that dream was a hollow place in your heart, a place no other joy could truly fill.

Even if the possibility of his darker nature manifesting more strongly in a child had weighed on your mind, you knew it wouldn’t have swayed your desire. You would have loved them fiercely, shielding them with your light and guiding them toward a brighter path. To nurture, to cherish, to offer a soul unyielding warmth—that was the essence of who you were.

Celebrimbor’s voice broke through your reverie, his tone soft with understanding. “You’re still thinking of it, aren’t you?”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his perceptiveness, but his gaze held no judgment. Only the quiet companionship of someone who had shared lifetimes and understood the burdens carried through them.

“It is a thought that never truly leaves me,” you admitted, your fingers brushing absently over the ancient book still resting on your lap.

He nodded, his expression solemn but kind. “Perhaps, in some way, you already have what you seek. In the little moments, the stories shared, the light you give to others.”

Your lips twitched upward in a bittersweet smile. “Perhaps,” you murmured, though in your heart, you knew the longing would always remain.

For now, you let it rest, soothed by the lingering warmth of the little girl’s trust. It was enough, if only for today.

“Elrond has returned with news from the Dwarves,” Celebrimbor announced, with a gentle smile.

You rose smoothly from the bench, the ancient book pressed to your chest as though safeguarding its secrets. The weight of it was comforting, a tether to times long past. Without hesitation, you moved to step alongside him, your robes swaying with each deliberate stride.

Together, you walked, the rhythm of your footsteps falling into an easy harmony, as if the centuries of shared purpose had been etched into the very earth beneath you. You hoped Elrond had brought good news, because the project was dangerously behind schedule. And there was only so much time left.

With each sway of the ship, Halbrand let the movements cradle him, like a lullaby he could not quite hear. He tried to lose himself in it, to let the rhythm of the waves wash away the heaviness in his chest. Yet his mind wandered relentlessly, tugging him back to places he could not escape. Memories, sharp and vivid as the stars reflected on dark waters, flared to life—pulling, aching, longing.

The burn of this mortal form was sharper, more immediate than the last. Where once he had armored himself against emotion, now they coursed through him unchecked, raw and consuming. He ached for you. For the touch of your hands, the solace of your voice, the brilliance of your mind. His soul felt unmoored without you, a drifting fragment searching for its other half.

When he had awakened in this new life, the frost-laden air of winter biting his skin, his first thought had been of you. He had reached out across the unseen threads of the world, yearning to feel even the faintest echo of your presence. He had scoured the vastness of Arda with his mind and heart, desperate for a whisper, a glimmer, a trace of you among the living. But there had been nothing. The silence was deafening.

The thought of your absence had carved an emptiness into him. You, who were among the first to walk this land, who carried the songs of creation in your very being. It was possible—heartbreaking, unbearable, but possible—that you had faded into the earth itself, surrendered to your grief for him. The thought sent shards of pain through him, sharper than any blade.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and his strength returned, faint signs began to emerge, like footprints in the snow. In dreams, he found you. Glimpses of your face, your eyes—those luminous, eternal eyes—would appear to him, soft and shining, filled with the golden light of Laureandor’s unending dawns.

In these dreams, you were radiant as you had been in the days of your joy. He would see you wandering among the gardens of that sacred city, the eternal sunrise painting your skin in hues of warmth. He would reach for you, yearning to touch the softness of your shoulders, to trace his fingers along your arms, to hold you as he had in those golden days. He would try, so desperately, to drink in the memory of your scent—jasmine, lilac, and the faint sweetness of raspberries—an essence burned into his soul as deeply as your name.

But it never came to pass. Before you could even acknowledge that he was searching for you—and you almost had, on more than one occasion—the shadows of Morgoth’s curse would rise, relentless and cruel. They dragged you away from him, shrouding your presence in darkness and sending him back into his own mind. Each time, the pain surged through him like a tidal wave, dropping him to his knees in the prison of his thoughts. He would cry out, his voice raw, begging to touch you, to hold you, to feel even the faintest trace of your light once more.

It was not until he had regained moderate strength, his resolve steeled against the ever-looming shadow, that he managed to push past it and reach you again. This time, the veil parted, and he saw you.

The scene unfolded like a long-lost dream: you, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, your beauty ethereal and untouched by the years. You sat at your dressing table, a brush gliding through your hair with deliberate, graceful strokes, and your lips parted slightly as you hummed a melody. It was a song he knew well—one you had sung in the golden days of Laureandor, when life felt eternal and untainted. He had heard it many times, lying in bed and watching you with quiet reverence, soaking in the warmth of your presence, your radiance.

“Mori?” His voice trembled as it left him, his shadows quaking around the edges of your sanctuary, a fragile boundary between worlds. Yet you did not turn. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment met his call.

Moments passed, heavy and laden with hope and despair, until your movements stilled. The brush in your hand hovered above the table, and your gaze fell to the small jewelry box resting there. Your fingers reached out, trembling ever so slightly as they hovered over the box’s delicate clasp, hesitating as though the act of opening it would summon something too painful to bear.

He stepped closer, his presence behind you a silent echo of who he had been. As you unclasped the box, the faint creak of its hinges seemed to reverberate through the room, a sound both tender and haunting. Inside, nestled in the velvet lining, lay a chain and a ring—the very ones he had forged for you.

The sight of them hit him like a blow, a torrent of emotions flooding through him. The memories surged—of molten metal and careful hands, of pouring himself into the craft, shaping his love and devotion into something tangible. He had made the chain and blue jewel to rest lightly against your skin, the ring to shine as brightly as the Two Great Lamps that they were forged under, unknowing of why he yearned to craft a marvel. All when he was your Mairon. Your sweet Mairon.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered just behind your shoulder, yearning to touch you, to reclaim even a fragment of what they had once shared. But the shadows still lingered, cruelly mocking him, as if to remind him that he could watch, he could ache, but he could not hold you—not yet.

You slammed the jewelry box closed and turned away, the sharp snap echoing through the room. The pain of your mark flared again, forcing you to retreat from the part of him that had once been poured so fully into that ring and chain. The sight of your reaction caused his anger to flare, a shadowy frustration that burned hotter as his eyes drifted to your wrist. The mark there pulsed with darkness, black tendrils crawling like living veins up your skin, a visible reminder of Morgoth’s curse.

But then, in a moment that stole his breath, your hand rose instinctively to the golden chain around your neck. Your fingers brushed over the crimson jewel nestled against your skin, caressing it softly. As if in answer, the darkness on your wrist began to fade, the tendrils retreating as though repelled by the warmth emanating from the chain.

His chain.

It seemed to bring you no pain, even in the face of the shadows. Unlike the jewelry in the box, this piece of his work had not been tainted. He realized with awe that the elven hands that had enhanced it in its making had infused it with a power greater than he had imagined. It radiated warmth, a steady comfort amidst the storm of darkness and shadow that plagued you both.

He remembered the night it was placed around his own neck, a gift for a moment of unity and love. He had been hesitant, even fearful, as the chain hovered above him. He had known its nature—that it would burn him if his soul was not pure of light. The stone would have seared his skin and marked his darkened fingers if the darkness in him had prevailed.

But that had not happened.

In your presence, beneath your unwavering light, he had bathed in something he had thought lost to him. The darkness had been pushed back, retreating into the recesses of his being. For that fleeting time, he had become whole again. He had become your Mairon.

You had turned his heart pure, if only for a moment. And in that moment, his whole being had prospered, the shadows receding as the brilliance of your love and light filled the void within him. Even now, the memory of that time was a beacon in his mind, a reminder of who he had been and who he might yet become.

He had pulled away from your mind, granting you a brief moment of solace. But his absence was only temporary. He returned, filling your mind with his deepest, most desperate desires. Shadows crept in again, curling around you as he reached out, hoping—aching—that you might welcome him this time. Welcome him with your warmth. With your light.

“Nightmares again?”

The voice pulled him abruptly from his reverie. Halbrand’s gaze shifted to Diarmid, whose head had lifted from his makeshift pillow, the dim glow of the ship’s lantern casting shadows across his weathered face. The old man’s eyes were sharp, even in the low light, watching him with a curious, almost knowing expression.

Halbrand hesitated. His instinct was to keep his thoughts buried, locked away where no one could reach them. Yet, there was something about Diarmid’s persistent, uninvited concern that made resistance seem futile. The old man had a knack for prying, for picking at the seams of Halbrand’s carefully guarded silence. At times, it irritated him to no end.

But tonight? Tonight, he found himself willing to entertain it.

“Something like that,” Halbrand said at last, his voice low and rough, as though the shadows in his mind lingered still. He leaned back against the ship’s support the cool air brushing against his skin, though it did little to quell the heat of the turmoil within.

Diarmid’s brow furrowed slightly, his curiosity sharpening. “Dreams, then? Or memories?”

Halbrand’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Does it matter?”

The old man shrugged, sitting up more, but his gaze remained unwavering. “Only if you think it does.”

Halbrand said nothing, his eyes drifting around the cargo hold. The waves lapped against the hull, their rhythm both soothing and relentless, much like the memories that refused to leave him. He could still feel the ghost of you in his mind, the ache of what he’d shown you, the fragile hope that you might yet answer his call.

He exhaled slowly before speaking. “I’ve done evil,” Halbrand admitted, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on the shifting shadows of the night instead of the old man beside him.

“All of us have done things we care not to admit,” Diarmid replied, his tone laced with a quiet understanding.

Halbrand chuckled bitterly to himself. If he only knew. His mind drifted back to you, to the weight of his greatest sin: the evil he had cast like a shadow over your life. Even now, he could feel the heaviness of your hairpiece tucked into the waistband of his pants, the cold metal pressing against his skin. It was a token he could not part with, tarnished by time and freezing temperatures, yet priceless beyond measure.

He had gone back for it, braving danger and decay to retrieve a piece of you. To him, it was a relic—a tangible fragment of the happiest memory he possessed. He clutched it like a lifeline, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could bask in the light of that moment once more. But that light was gone, and the darkness of his choices had set a path that could not be undone.

His plan, even now delayed, was in motion. And with every passing day, he drew closer to you.

“That trinket you carry,” Diarmid’s voice cut into his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. “A family heirloom? Or perhaps a token of a lost love?”

Halbrand’s eyes darkened as they snapped to the old man, his glare sharp and unyielding. But then, to his own surprise, he spoke the truth.

“It was my wife’s,” he murmured softly, his voice a shadow of itself.

“Lost, then?” Diarmid asked, his expression solemn but kind.

Halbrand shrugged, the gesture dismissive, though the pain in his chest betrayed his indifference. “I am unsure.”

Diarmid nodded slowly. “Did she know of this evil that you had done?”

Halbrand’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. The truth of it was inescapable. You had known. You had always known. And despite that knowledge, you had remained devoted to him, loving him with a fierceness that sometimes bordered on blind faith. You had stood by him, willing to follow wherever he led, even when it cost you dearly.

To be worshipped by the one he loved—by you—had been a divine feeling. One that lingered even now, haunting him.

“Then do not dwell in what was,” Diarmid said after a moment, his voice calm and steady. “For all is forgiven to her.”

But Halbrand knew better. Forgiveness was a lie. He had burned your world down, not once but countless times over. He had tried to repent, to make amends for the ruin he had caused, but when the cost became clear—eternal separation, eternal damnation for the both of you—he had fled. He had run from the truth of what his true repentance required. Not able to accept the words of beings that had once hunted him down like an animal.

“Now you must find forgiveness in yourself,” Diarmid continued, breaking through the silence. “You are here, with the hope of seeing her once more, wherever she might be. All because you have chosen good on this day.”

“And what of tomorrow?” Halbrand asked, his voice heavy with the weight of his doubts.

“You choose it again,” Diarmid said simply. “And then the next day, and the day after that, until it is part of your nature.” A soft smile crossed the old man’s lips, his words as gentle as the first light of dawn.

Halbrand said nothing, his mind swimming with memories of what he had once been.

Mairon had been good. He had loved, deeply and without restraint. He had danced in the light, sung with his whole fëa, and devoted himself to the one who had been his guiding star. Day after day, he had chosen to be admirable, to be worthy of the love you gave so freely.

Sauron, though… Sauron was irredeemable in the eyes of all but one.

Yours.

You had clung to the hope that the light could penetrate the shadow once more. You had believed in him when no one else did, holding on to the belief that the spark of goodness within him still existed. And he had told you once, long ago, that his light was embedded in you, waiting to return to him when the darkness had faded.

But the darkness had never faded.

And now more than ever it crept even closer, begging to swallow him further.

Over the weeks, you had lingered in the hazy solace of your dreams, refusing to wake from the gentle caresses and whispered promises of your husband. His touch, his voice, his presence—it all felt so real in the quiet sanctuary of your slumber. You clung to him desperately, even as he faded, unwilling to release him to the waking world. For when you did, you knew you would wake to the cold emptiness of your bed, the hollow ache in your heart once more reminding you of the loneliness that consumed your days. The sunlight seemed dimmer now, as if mourning alongside you, its warmth unable to pierce the sorrow that wrapped itself around you. His words of patience echoed in your mind, but the longing you carried was shifting—slowly, insidiously—into grief once more. And the shadows whispered to you, their call growing ever louder.

“Everything well?”

Celebrimbor’s voice broke through your reverie, and you startled slightly before turning to him. He stood across the small forge, his keen eyes watching you with gentle concern. You offered him a cheerful smile, though it barely masked the weariness tugging at your features.

“Yes, of course, my lord,” you replied, trying to sound lighthearted.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I can tell when you’re lying, Thilwen.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly turned back to the parchment before you. The last bit of correspondence for the day was nearly finished, and you placed your quill back in the inkpot with careful precision. Blowing on the ink to dry, you focused intently, determined to ignore Celebrimbor’s prying gaze. Though he rarely ventured into matters of your personal life, he worried for you on occasion. He had seen the signs: your faraway stares, the way you flinched at the faintest creak of a door, the late-night strolls through the courtyard where you seemed to murmur to no one.

“I am fine—” you started, but Celebrimbor crossed the room in a few strides and placed his hand firmly on the parchment, cutting you off.

“Go,” he said, his voice gentle but resolute. “You look exhausted. I will finish this.”

“But—” you began to protest, but he shook his head.

“No buts. You’ve been working harder than ever, and I need your mind sharp once the forge is complete. We’ll have plenty of work ahead of us.” His expression softened as he added, “Rest, Thilwen. Truly rest.”

You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth of his concern and the firmness in his tone left no room for argument. But instead of rising you only sat back in your chair as you moved to rub your eyes, you wanted to rest more than anything but it would only make your grief and sorrow flourish.

“Thilwen?” Celebrimbor prompted with a raised brow.

“I can’t sleep,” you murmured, a shred of truth in the words. Celebrimbor moved to sit across from you. “I keep having dreams.” You paused, hesitating wether or not to even tell Celebrimbor, but he was one of your oldest friends and was always full of wisdom, even more than you. A child of Ilúvatar.

“Nightmares about your husband again?” Celebrimbor’s voice was careful, yet tinged with the barest hint of curiosity. It wasn’t entirely off the mark, though to call it a nightmare felt wrong. If one could call being driven to the edge by the ghostly caress of your husband’s touch a nightmare, then perhaps he was right. But that was none of Celebrimbor’s business.

“Some nights I see the white towers burning,” you began, your voice steady though your chest felt tight. “Others I see fellow elves—”

You didn’t have to finish. Celebrimbor’s hand reached across the small space between you and settled gently on your arm. His touch was soothing, an anchor in the storm of your words.

You weren’t lying. There were nights when your husband’s presence didn’t soften your dreams, when his whispers didn’t guide you into a fragile comfort. Instead, there were nights when the weight of old memories and distant faces overwhelmed you.

You saw them clearly—people you had loved, places you had walked—now all reduced to ruin. The brilliance of their existence snuffed out beneath the crushing weight of your husband’s oppressive hand. The burning white towers haunted you, their light extinguished by shadow, and the faces of those you cherished twisted with pain and betrayal.

Celebrimbor’s touch tightened slightly, grounding you. “You are not alone in this grief,” he said softly, his voice as steady as his presence. But in your heart, you knew your grief was far more complex than he could ever understand.

Because no one but you could love the hand that had wrought such destruction—and still long for it in the dark of night.

“It is alright; all is in the past. We have endured the darkest of days with our kin, and now we look to craft a brighter future,” Celebrimbor said, his voice steady and filled with quiet conviction. His hand gave your arm a gentle squeeze, a small gesture of comfort before his tone turned teasing. “But please, do go get some rest—you look awful, my dear.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound lightening the heaviness in your chest as you stood and pushed your chair neatly under the table. Stepping closer to him, you placed your hand on his cheek in a warm, familiar gesture. Celebrimbor’s smile softened at your touch, a warmth radiating from him that you had come to know so well over the centuries.

For five centuries, you had known his affection. Though it was unspoken and never crossed into anything beyond platonic, it was evident in the way he treated you. Others had noticed, whispering of how his gaze lingered on you longer than it did on anyone else, how his words carried a gentler tone when they were meant for you, and how his kindness toward you surpassed what he offered even his closest smiths.

But no matter what others said, Celebrimbor knew your heart belonged to another. He carried on with his immortal longing for greatness, his own ambitions burning brightly. Perhaps, somewhere in the depths of his heart, he held a quiet yearning for you as well. Yet, he had always respected the boundaries of your devotion, never once letting his affection compromise the steadfastness of your bond.

For your fëa sung for only one being.

The melody you shared with your husband was eternal, unshakable. It was a song that no other could replicate, a harmony woven in the light that existed between only the two of you. Even in his absence, even in grief so profound it threatened to consume you, you knew you would never betray that song. To do so would be to betray yourself.

“I will try to do so,” you said, letting your hand fall back to your side. You turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at him. “Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, my lady,” Celebrimbor replied with a small bow, his voice soft and reverent as you stepped out into the quiet night, carrying with you the weight of an unyielding love and the memories of what had been.

[watchingsunrises]

Zayn lyrics analysis - Grateful and The Time

As promised some lyric analysis from Room Under the Stairs. Still can't stop listening to these songs or album.

Some points to make clear first for context. The narrative set up for this album was a big fake mess and in reality did not align to the lyrics and what Zayn tells us in his music or interviews if you pay attention. The narrative set was he'd been writing the album for 6 years, it was about his relationship of that period and it was also about his daughter.

First the timeline makes no sense, we are meant to believe that this album covers the period of 2017 to 2023??!! Please Zayn released 3 full albums in that time period. Most artists write in their current context they rarely hold on to songs for 6 years. If they are good they want them on that current album. Also the songs on this album all reflect significant personal growth, emotional intelligence, maturity, possibly some therapy, reframing of his life including on his past in 1D. Its clear those are more recent changes that usually come with age or significant life changes or overcoming challenges. So the narrative on the timeframe was all bullshit. Its likely he wrote this album in 2022 to 2023. A period where he was publically single. The narrative was used to cover the many love/long term partner related songs on the album. Hello, Stardust. 

Secondly Zayn made it clear in a few interviews that he is really fast at putting his music together. He literally said he can put an entire song down start to finish in 2 to 3 hours. Don't think he needed 6 years to put this album together. 

The other gem Zayn gave us in interviews was the in hindsight, I don't think I've ever been in love before. Thank you Zayn, if people pay attention he made it pretty clear he isn't writing any love songs about his former public relationships. Yet the album has multiple love related songs. Again, hence the bullshit narrative.

Thirdly, the narrative the album was about his daughter. I mean she was 2 to 3 when this album was written. He makes it clear even where there is a stunt line or two that he is talking to an adult, telling them deep things, doing things they shouldn't do, lying for them etc. Nothing speaks about a toddler here at all. Not once. I have a child only a few years older, there's no sign of a child in these lyrics. 

With that in mind I wanted to analyse two of my favourite songs, as a start. Really powerful songs and vocals. Songs that are deeply personal to me, I understand and relate to the themes of gratitude and time deeply. I believe Zayn relates to them from similar life experiences. Songs I fully believe would have been originally part of the tour. Songs in the context of losing Liam, would be impossible to sing live. Hence the tour including a whole bunch of B sides from the album. 

Grateful

I see your mother’s shine in your eye

I know that you’re mine and I'm cryin'

Tellin' you the things that are on my mind

When I think of you

This is a classic stunt line used to set up the idea the song is about his daughter who he is grateful for. If you pay attention to the third line he is telling things to this person that are on his mind. He is not telling a then 2 or 3 year old all the things on his mind. He is talking about another adult here, his love, his person. He's also not talking about Gigi here, they were broken up when the album was really written, plus he never loved her, remember. The rest of the song is also talking about the ups and downs in life and his relationship. A relationship he's still clearly in, there's no past tense. With that in mind let's revisit the first two lines and how intimate and beautiful they really are. He is telling his person, his love, that their eyes share the same shine as their mother. Ugh my heart. Zayn is the softest, most romantic. That he knows this person is his person in life and knowing he's met his person makes him cry. Cry from happiness and gratitude. And if you believe his person, his love is Liam then this song already just stunning that this is how his love feels to him. Now it's just even more beautiful and gut wrenching and no wonder he couldn't sing it live on tour, even though it's such a sing a long style song and I fully believe he would have intended to sing it on tour. 

Yeah, I'm grateful for you

Love it when the rain comes down

Love it when the waves calm down

Yeah, I'm grateful for you

He is just so content and happy to have found his person in life. The rains can come down on them individually or as a couple, they know they can get through and things always calm down eventually. He is just grateful. Again gut wrenching now. I can barely contemplate how these songs have changed for Zayn. 

These days I live to my depiction

Nowadays I'm findin' no affliction

These days I'm needin' no restriction

Feel like I'm finding new addiction

He is as a person feeling like he can be more of his true self in private and public, perhaps found ways to find peace in his/their closeting and situation. He has less restrictions now without the constant long term beading/pr relationships. He is able to stay publically single with the cover of a child. There is a whole different post somewhere in the future on this. I believe Louis and Zayn were able to make the same negotiation to be single in exchange for father of the year roles. But perhaps their partners had to more heavily stunt in relationships too. We will never know but there is some mirroring between the two couples situations the last 3 years or so especially Zouis. 

And it feels good

And I knew it would

When I'm tellin' this story it's complicated

Some mishaps I've been mournin' but I'm grateful for it

It feels good to write music without it having to be perceived about his public relationships. He can't share all the stories still though, they are too complicated. There are mistakes he regrets but he can still feel gratefulness amongst it all.

Things change and I'm okay with what I'm not

It feels wasteful to be hateful

I'll be grateful for what I got

There has been so much pain in his life. He could choose to be angry and hateful but that feels wasteful. He chooses to reframe and focus on what he has, who he is and be grateful. There is huge maturity and emotional intelligence going on here. 

These days I'm needin' no restriction (For you)

Just as always Zayn finds a subtle sweet way to bring his person, his love into the narrative of the lyrics. These days I'm needing no restrictions for you. For you! Perhaps this refers to no longer needing the restriction of a bearing/pr relationships to cover his for you. He sounds like he feels more free. He's focussed on gratitude. 

The Time

Yesterday just came and went

And if today I wake up late, I won't forgive myself

’Cause time's running its own game

And I've rolled the dice too many times in my head

Huge changes as mentioned in perspective and growth as a person. He is reframing life, he values time, he doesn't want to waste time anymore. He's wasted time in the past being angry, being focussed on pain or other challenges. Its not for him now. Something significant happened that challenged his perspective too.

Never fell for the fame thing

They fell in love with the same things

Let me know when the rain ends

See all I need is you

Ain’t it special? Ain't it precious?

The time that we have

When I'm laid in your bed and you tell me you lovе me

Bringing his person, his love into the story with him, as he ALWAYS has across 4 albums. He and his person never fell for the fame thing. His person is in the industry too. That's pretty clear here, right. He and his person fell in love with the same things. Again seems clear, they both fell in love with music. Music is the thing they love and what they wanted to do in life. Fame came with it but they didn't really want to play that game. I'll fight anyone who can't see this isn't about Liam. Who else, honestly? All he needs is his person, his love. Its the best thing they both got from the fame and music. They got each other, as teenage boys and god damn that really is SO special and precious. So rare and unique. The time they have is everything, it means more than the fame and music and all the bullshit they have had to go through to be together. Time is all that matters, it is everything. When they lay in bed together, when they say I love you, he's making it clear it's an intimate setting, yet so normal and usual for them. Those are the moments that matter most not fame or music.

Colours back in all my days

Build the structure, lеt it break

As long as it's good for your brain

Lessons learned is what I've gained

Feedin' families, forget the fame

I'm doing it now for a second name

His person, his love brings all the colour into his life. I mean beautiful, they bring him joy and happiness. There's also queerness here, a number of closeted artists talk in lyrics about it being grey and searching for colour or the rainbow. He has his rainbow. They've built a life together, structures, a home, routine. Simple life, relationship things. Whatever is good for them, doesn't matter what it is. Its away from the fame. Feeding families, they are a family and they support their own families, these are benefits from the fame, they focus on. Doing it for a second name. Obviously a stunt line, you have to expect them but in context of the song and the rest of it using they to reflect his partner, it can be more true that he's referring to his partners second name.

And I could cry when you tell me that you love me

When you're doing things you shouldn’t be

And I lie for you

And I could cry when you tell me that you love me

And I'd die for you if you asked me to

This bridge, I was crying before Liam passed just the absolute love and devotion that you would die if the person asked you too. And no this line is not about his daughter, his daughter at 2 or 3 is not doing things they shouldn't and him lying for her. There is some insight here for me that perhaps this refers to Liam's addiction issues. That Zayn is fighting for, fighting with his partner, time is everything. They've been close to the edge of life and loss. That's the feeling here for me. And I feel that because I've been going through cancer the last few years, on the edge of my own mortality. Facing that fear. How time is the greatest value in life. How time with my daughter means more than anything. How every second of time spent in the most simplest and intimate ways with her is so fucking precious and special. And when I think of Zayn writing this song and still having Liam after whatever happened on that edge of life. To truly understand the value of time in life, it's a different way of understanding, of knowing when you've truly faced it on the edge of life. That's what I feel in the song, in many parts of the entire album. It resonates so deeply for me. To then lose him afterall. It is devastating. It makes me deeply worried if Zayn can find his way in life without Liam. I hope he can, I hope he can focus in on the same things he focuses on in this album. I hope he can find it in him to write for Liam. I hope the tour gives him something forward focussed. 

[tvchi]

The Rhythm of You

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: Minors DNI- Profanity, Use of the N word. Pairing: black male x black female Words: 5,419k

A/N: Hey yall hey. Happy Holidays and a Very Happy New Year to you all. I've been gone for a minute, and now I'm back with the jump off/goons in the club case--- my fault; let me get serious. During the holiday season, I took some intentional time off to be present with family and get some much needed rest. I've been enjoying so many other fanfics, liking and reblogging them for your viewing pleasure, so please check them out. When I got back, work just steamrolled me, and then I found myself reminiscing about the past with friends and fantasizing about this new fic. It just wouldn't leave me alone and I found myself disengaging from Terry's drama to look into an unexpected chapter in Aldis' life (lol). I will be writing part 4 of Veiled Intentions soon don't worry!

Summary: Aldis has been working really hard and had finally finished Season 1 of Cross. I had been a grueling 10 months filming this role and getting into character. Now, he can finally decompress and return to the one thing that means the world to him, his baby girl. Everything was all figured out until he met someone unexpected, someone alluring, someone who will add a much needed song to the soundtrack of his life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Delicate golden embers arose from the stringed lights hung all over the ceiling. Their glow illuminated the bodies that swayed underneath. The sounds of the speakers blaring the Top 40 hits now transitioned to R&B. The calm electricity throughout the room brought a warm buzz to my chest. It was a sight to behold. Everyone I had grown close to over the past couple of years gathered under this two-story NY loft to celebrate the significant milestone. It made me smile. 

I usually enjoy the wrap of all of my work. It gives me time to pause, decompress, reflect on the journey, make a little time to note what I could have done better, and dig deep inside myself to practice the celebration of all of the things I had done right. Taking on this role was a huge undertaking, but I got it right. Really right. I was already getting calls offering me other roles in other limited series. I even got offered a chance to make my directorial debut on a project that I’ve had my eye on for a while.

Knocking back another swig of my drink. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of going home and hugging my daughter tight.  It was a wrap ritual for me. Ever since she was born, I’ve been obsessed with the little extension of myself. The way she looked up at me, face pressed tightly against my chest, asking me all kinds of questions and clinging to every answer. I thought I knew love until I held her.  

I downed the last of my drink and started saying my goodbyes. It wasn’t until I had hugged the last person that I heard the commotion coming from the dancefloor. They were playing some song featuring Kehlani, the only voice I recognized at the moment, and it was smooth. Curious, I let my feet guide me to the edge of the formed crowd. I stepped in closer, and that is when I saw …her. 

Her skin was a toffee brown, and under the streams of warm light, she glowed. The second thing I noticed was how she seemed to glide around the enclosed circle she maneuvered around. It was almost as if her feet weren’t even hitting the floor. Where her feet went, her hips trailed behind, snaking around, causing her ass to tick and shake precisely as the percussion dropped. She was in perfect sync with the beat. There came a point where she switched her movements to emulate the rhythm of the words the artists’ crooned. She turned around to where I was standing, body still enthralled by the trance of the song, and started mouthing the words. 

The way she moved her hands to trace the outline of her hills and valleys enticed something in my carnal nature. My eyes wouldn’t move from her. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, influenced by the song's sentiment. If she were the premise of the music video, this song would win so many awards. I continued watching her intently, and then she suddenly peered up at me, still mouthing the words of the song and moving those perfectly sculpted hips and thighs. She snaked to the right and folded over, allowing the right side of the room a full view of a plump, round ass and the rest of us a delectable side view. Her eyes never left me. It was almost like she was daring me to make my way over to her and dance with her. My feet remained planted where they were, and I just stared, wondering how she would look doing this routine in my bedroom— on my dick. 

My thoughts were interrupted by my castmate and newfound brother, Isaiah, coming up to my right. “Incredible,” he said, practically moaning.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t even know. The little intel I was able to pick up from some of the cast mates who were familiar with her was that she’s a choreographer or dancer or something. She came as a plus on.”

The DJ continued to egg her on while transitioning to ‘Can I’ by Kehlani. She started another routine that didn’t seem routine at all. Isaiah and I kept our eyes glued to her every movement. Again, she seemed entranced by the rhythm of the song. She looked like she was… home. 

After the song went off and the DJ transitioned to another song, she straightened up and peered around at the small crowd cheering for her. She blushed, waved a vote of thanks, and whispered something to Golden Madison, another of our castmates. I'm not sure how or why, but my feet started moving toward the pair. I could sense that Isaiah wasn’t far behind. 

“No, girl, you can’t leave now. You are literally the life of the party, and the night is young!” I overheard Golden saying.

“I agreed to be your plus one on one of my sacred days off to congratulate you and love on you. It’s almost 2 am; I think I’ve done my fair share of ‘plus-oneing’. I need to get to my bed,” the mystery girl said playfully.

“Please, we’ll leave in like another hour or so. I promise,” Golden begged.

“Girl! I have errands to run and other things to do tomorrow. I have to go, but I love you deep! I’m so proud of you!” the girl kissed. Golden pouted and noticed Izzy and I standing there. 

“Hey yall,” Golden squeaked. Her friend turned around to see who Golden was speaking to, and our eyes locked for the second time tonight. 

“Hey, Goldie,” I said.

“I thought you left already. I know you don’t stay out late much,” she stated.

“Yea, I was on my way out, and then I heard all the commotion coming from the dancefloor and thought I’d see what was going on,” I replied.

“And there was a lot going on,” Izzy chimed, staring suggestively at the girl we both couldn’t take our eyes off of.

“My girl is and has ALWAYS been the truth!”

“Does your girl have a name?”

“Yea, you not gonna introduce us? Rude!”

“Shut up, Izzy. Aldis, Izzy, this is my best friend Amara. Amara, these clowns are the co-stars of the Alex Cross, Alex and Izzy,”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she shook our hands. Hers were so soft, and her handshake was firm. I held her hand a little longer than customary before letting her go. The absence of the warmth of her hand when I let go of her instantly felt unnatural. Wrong even. 

“Goldie, I gotta go. Love you,” Amara said, turning toward Goldie

“Ugh, you’re being so lame!” Goldie let out in frustration.

The DJ started playing ‘Hot’ by Efosa. I watched her close her eyes in loathing. She turned to Goldie and said, “This is my damn song, and I feel like you told him to play this!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Goldie said, feigning innocence. “If you going then, go!”

Amara lets out a long sigh. The next thing I knew, my right hand was in hers, and she was leading me back onto the dancefloor. She laid it on me. Her hips moved left and right. She planted her ass directly where my dick laid dormant until — now. Looking at the view of her sculpted, exposed lower back up close while she practically whined on my member was mesmerizing. Her hips rotated clockwise then, suddenly with the change of the synths, counterclockwise like she pressed rewind on her previous movement. 

She was a force, and I desperately tried to keep up with her while taking her all in. I was pretty sure pre-cum was leaking all in my boxers as I watched her ass ripple up and down as I collided with her. I needed to make her mine, to have the pleasure of being inside her, to learn every twist and turn of that body. By the end of the song, I didn’t care that she was feeling how hard I was at this point. This was all her doing. At the final climax of the song, she threw her head back and tilted to the left to look back at me as she wiggled her ass at warped speed to match the beat. I was gone. 

She owned me, and she knew it. When the DJ transitioned, she gave a final bump to my third leg with her ass and rose to her full height. She walked to Goldie and hugged her, followed by a kiss on her cheek. My feet were still planted where they were, missing her warmth and showcasing a hefty hard-on. While walking towards the exit, she glanced at me and flashed a knowing smile. Then she was gone.

“Daaaaaaaaamn, bruh. She left and put the $200 on the dresser, cuz the way she was handling you back there, you definitely got fuck,” he said laughing. He was right, and there was nothing I could do about it. I should’ve ran after her and asked for her information but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I just felt. 

————————————————————————-

“Hey baby, what you doing?” Looking at my greatest accomplishment with pride and joy. According to her teachers, she’s ahead of the class in all her subjects. They’ve been testing her to see whether she can skip classes. It was fascinating watching her in her element. 

“I’m building a house,” she answered curtly, zipping around to find another piece to glue on. One thing I loved about babygirl was the fact that she did her own thing. It didn’t bother her that the other girls her age were more preoccupied with tea parties and painting their nails. She liked those things, too, but she also loved working with her hands and playing basketball with the other boys in the neighborhood. 

She didn’t let the other kids push her around either. You never knew what you were going to get with her. One day, she demanded to go to school in her “princess gown,” the next day, she would wear a snapback, jeans, and the pair of Jays we got together. Her mom thought she sometimes dressed like me when she missed me the most. That was another subject… her mom. 

“Ok, well, I want my room facing the backyard. I don’t wanna hear all that noise from the street. Oh, and make sure you hook me up, too. I want a big-screen TV in there.”

“Imma do your room last cause you ain't say ‘please’! That's rude, Daddy.”

I chuckled. “That’s fair, babygirl. That’s fair. My bad. Please and thank you.”

“Mhmm. Now that your movie is done, how long you staying this time?”

“I’m going be here until I get another role that I wanna do, then it’s the usual. I take the meetings and talk to some people, and if they like me, they’ll tell me when I start.”

“They always like you, Daddy. You’re the best!”

I beamed. “Thank you, baby girl. That means a lot coming from you. They can give me all the awards they want to, but–”

“But if you don’t get one from me, then nothing matters. I know, Daddy. You say that every time.” She smiled, and half rolled her eyes.

“That’s because I mean it!” I exclaimed, tapping her nose with my index finger.

“I know.”

“So now that you got me all to yourself for a while, what you wanna do?”

“Well, Imma finish the house, then maybe later you can make me a burger cause imma be hungry. After that, we can go to the movies. After that, maybe we can go to a basketball game. Eric said ain't no way I’m going to the Knicks game. I told him that my daddy takes me when he’s home, and he called me a liar. So we gotta go to the Knicks game so I can see Karl-Anthony, then we gotta take pictures so he can shut up. After that, I wanna go to the skating rink because Tina and Tasha said we gotta get good by the summer so we can skate outside. Then after that—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I see you got a lot of plans. Tell you what, for today, I’ll leave you to your house and get the burgers ready. We’ll go to the movies later on tonight. Tomorrow, we can go to Home Depot and get some lights and other stuff to hook your house up. How’s that sound?”

“YAAAAAAAY!!! Daddy, how you know I wanted to put some lights in here?!?!”

“Cause you been on the computer watching YouTube videos of mini houses and how to put lights up,” I replied with a smirk.

“You can see that?”

“I can see everything, babygirl. Remember that.” I finished, giving her a peck on the forehead, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

I worked quickly, seasoning the ground turkey and forming the patties. They were ready in no time. While working on the last batch of seasoned fries, my phone rang.

“Nigga, whatchu doing?” Isaiah blurted.

“Me and babygirl finna eat these burgers. What’s good?” I declared, gazing proudly at the meal I drummed up.

“Oh, so you back? Good,” he asked, referring to my choice to stay another week in LA to decompress before flying back to New York.

“Yea I got back in yesterday.”

“Yea, well, remember lil mama from the wrap party?”

“Who?”

“Nigga, the one you was drooling over. Don’t play like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

I laughed sheepishly. I couldn’t forget her if I tried. “Whatever. Wussup?”

“Uh huh, anyway, I saw her at one of the studios on Kingston Ave in the Heights.” I marveled at how your friend, who was anxious about riding the subway just last month when he first got here, is rattling off streets in Brooklyn like a pro even though he lives in Harlem. I loved how he was getting comfortable in a place that would always be home.

“And what were you doing in Brooklyn?” I asked curiously.

“Never you mind what I was doing in Brooklyn. Did you hear what I said? Your girl is dancing her fine ass up and down Brooklyn with some brown-skinned Dominican muthafucka! You talmbout ‘what you doing in Brooklyn’? Anyway, I just texted you the address to the dance studio. Make your way over there.”

“Uh huh, leave that Zina girl alone, nigga. You’re married. I ain't gon’ tell you bout that shit no more. Tighten up!” I snapped. 

As much as I loved having Isaiah in my city, bending blocks, booking gigs, and getting closer, he’s been losing his way. I’ve always looked up to him in more ways than one. He held so much knowledge and experience. Lately, I’ve noticed him putting off his responsibilities to his house and home. Especially when it came to Zina, a 39-year-old creative director of Epic Records who worked closely with us on the soundtrack of Cross. 

She lived in Brooklyn and returned home 2 weeks before we wrapped. Isaiah was supposed to go home and spend time with his wife and two kids. Instead, he bought a brownstone in Harlem and moved some of his things out here.  I pressed him about his sudden decision, and he said that he needed some time to think and that Lisa agreed. I knew there was more to the story, but I didn’t press him. 

I introduced him to some of my friends and showed him around so that he would get more acclimated. Sometime later, I heard he was running up to Brooklyn to see some girl. I started putting two and two together. When I finally confronted him, he fell silent and told me to let him straighten his shit out, and he would let me do the same with mine. I left him knowing that I disapproved and that if I was asked, I wouldn’t lie to him. Now, I see none of my words struck a chord with him. 

“Yea whatever, nigga. Get to that studio.” he said and hung up. I pondered what would be the reason for me to barge into a dance studio with my size and build. I did not want to make it obvious that I was there for her but I needed to see her. I wasn’t sure why. 

After getting babygirl fed, we headed to the movies. Wicked was a dope movie. Babygirl and I discussed the different themes and lessons she picked up in the film. This girl was so bright and full of life. I couldn’t believe how perfect she was. Blessed and proud, I couldn’t even begin to cover it. Next morning, we did our morning routine of hygiene, outfit choices, breakfast, and affirmations, and I dropped babygirl off at school. 

“Aye, man, you the guy from Underground, right?” I heard a voice say as I entered one of my favorite coffee shops. I turned around to face him.

“Yea, man. How you doing?”

“Oh man, my girl gon flip. She loves you. You dope or whatever. Can I get a pic witchu?”

“Yea man, C’mon”

We took a couple of pictures, and I dapped him up. I told him about Cross, and he said he would spread the word. I reached the counter to order my favorite drink, and my favorite barista was there.

“Oh, shit, everybody. My favorite actor after Denzel is here!” Assata shouted.

“Here you go! You gotta do that every time I come up here? You know I’m tryna be incognegro” I responded, feigning annoyance.

“Shut up. You love my announcements, and I love doing ‘em”

“Whatever, ya pops and Man man here. I wanted to say wussup to them real quick before I start a little bit of work.”

“Al, you just finished working. When you gonna take a minute to breathe? Enjoy that little girl before you jet off.”

“First of all, you in my business. Second, babygirl says ‘hey’ and that the last time she came in here and got a hot chocolate Man Man made it too hot, and she burned her tongue. So I’m here to beat his ass. Next, I did take time to decompress but I got a baby now and like everybody else, I’m tryna make sure everybody eats. Lastly, go get ya Pops!”

“Mhmm. You ain’t gotta jump down my throat. I’m just saying that you can take more than a week and some change to relax and enjoy your accomplishments,” she said, making her way to the back room. 

A second later, Pops, aka Mr. Johnson, came from behind. As far as I was concerned, he was part of the family. My family had been coming to his coffee shop and bakery since I was a kid. He looked out for me when my own father was busy working three jobs, and when we didn’t have what we needed for school, he looked out in every way possible. Every time I’m home, I make sure I see him and see if he needs anything. He always declines my help, but I always end up getting my way. 

We spoke for a while about what was going on in the neighborhood and how he kept getting incessant calls trying to get him to sell his property. I knew from how he spoke about the neighborhood and this shop that he would never sell. He wasn't going anywhere if I had anything to do with it. He was one of the few black businesses left in the neighborhood and probably the only one that wasn’t drowning in massive debt. I saw to that. 

After an hour or so, I excused myself and headed to one of the tables across from the window to start looking at a list of upcoming films and shows that have been greenlit and looking to cast. Then, I took a couple of meetings and started finishing up some work I had been putting off for my side projects. Everybody knows I keep a job. I was always working. At first, it started out as a way to get out of debt and make sure that I was never homeless or destitute again. Then, I kept going because I feared that everything I had could be taken from me at any moment, and I needed something. Then I started making excuses about why I couldn’t sit still. That reminded me I had to check in with my guy Mark for our therapy session I had to reschedule. 

When that was completed, I googled the address Isaiah sent me. Google maps street view allowed me to see the inside and outside of the building. It was definitely of a modern design. It also looked like it doubled as a community center for the youth. Going down a rabbit hole, I learned about the studio's founder and watched a couple of interviews about the community center and why it was founded. Then she appeared. 

Amara Omena talked about how the center was a refuge for her to explore her talent as a dancer when her parents admonished and banished her from their home when she stood firm in her decision to pursue dancing full-time instead of becoming an engineer. I was transfixed as she spoke and couldn’t peel my eyes from hers. I also wondered what kind of people would force their kids out in the cold because they wanted to go for their dreams. 

I thought to babygirl, and how I would be over the moon if she told me that she wanted to dance or be a plumber… shit, she could tell me that she wanted to sell her collection of rocks, and I would find a way for her to make that happen. My heart felt for Amara in more ways than one. Before I knew what was happening, I was on the phone with the center's founder and told them I would be there on Monday. I discussed a couple of other things with them and hung up. 

The weekend came and went and babygirl and I went everywhere she could possibly think to go. I even went back to the coffee shop and play-fought Man Man for making babygirl’s hot chocolate too hot. I threatened to whoop his ass again if he burned my baby. Babygirl got a kick outta that. I dropped her off at her mom’s house, hopped on the A express, got off at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, then got on the C and rode that down to Crown and Utica station. As I walked to Kingston Ave, I took in the sights. 

There were some new establishments, but I was glad to see that some of the old ones I grew up with were still there. I made a mental note to take babygirl to the Brooklyn Museum. Finally, I arrived at the Kingston Community Center and went inside. I signed in at the front desk and asked the receptionist where I could sit while I waited for Dr. Simmons to meet me.

“I know you, baby. You don’t need to sign in. I already told Dr. Simmons that you were here when I saw you walking up, witcho fine ass. She’s coming down,” the receptionist said, winking at me. I chuckled.

“Thank you ma’am”

“Anything for you, baby. My name is Linda Brentwell, but everybody calls me Ms. Lee. You single?” she asked. I choked, caught off guard. This woman was firmly in her 60s and flirting with me unabashedly. 

“That’s enough, Ms. Lee. Thank you,” a voice said from behind her. “Hell,o Mr. Hodge, I’m Dr. Simmons. We spoke over the phone.”

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet yo,u Dr. Simmons”

“Follow me. The kids are down the hall,” she announced. 

She told me how grateful she was to receive a call from me and how much it would mean to the kids. She gave me a working itinerary of how the day would go. I spoke with the kids first, signing autographs. They’d watch an episode of Underground, and then I would get a tour of the facility. I chopped it up with the kids and had a blast. I knew babygirl was a riot, but these kids were talented and full of life. They came from all kinds of bullshit out there, and despite everything, they found some semblance of hope and peace at the center. 

Its establishments like these mean everything to the community. I made a mental note of everything the kids said about the place and assured them this wouldn’t be the last they saw of me. I took a picture with each of them and then gave them autographs. I’ll tell my assistant to check in with the center and give the kids goodie bags.  

A teen named Keith waited for me by the door to give me a tour of the center. I chopped it up with him as we walked around the building. I asked him to deviate from the routine and to show me the dance studio last. He mentioned how a generous donor, a contact from one of the instructors of the dance studio, helped remodel the building, which gave them a lot of space.  It was about 6:30pm when we finally made it to the dance studio.

It was on the 4th floor and bathed in a soft, amber sunset that filtered through the tall windows, casting elongated shadows on the polished wooden floor. The air was thick with the scent of fresh wood and a hint of sweat, the lingering evidence of hours of movement—the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A single barre ran the length of one side, worn smooth by countless hands. At the far end, a stereo system hummed, its speakers poised like silent sentinels.  

A bin was riddled with worn ballet shoes, jazz heels, and some tap shoes. Gym bags and jacks piled next to the cubbies found next to the door.  The loud thud of landing jumps and shifting feet quickly hit your ears when you opened the door. I looked around until I spotted her. Her hips swayed and shifted to the beat, the familiar sight melting my resolve. The choreographer’s next formation led her to the front, where she twirled, leaped in the air, and landed in a split.

“Damn,” is all that escaped me as I watched her pop her ass in the split and look directly into the mirror. She knew exactly what she was doing, making me wonder what else she knew. “I know. Amara is cold. You see all the dudes we passed getting to the door?” “Yea” “They here to watch her. Every time. They stay on her body,” he said. “Is that right?” “On God.”

That bit of information only strengthened my resolve to make sure that I was the only one “on her body,” as he put it. 

“Class. We have a special guest with us today. Everyone say ‘Hello’ to Mr. Aldis Hodge, actor, philanthropist, artist, and watchmaker,” she finished as everyone clapped. I gestured my vote of thanks for their warm welcome.

“Thank you so much for your warm welcome. Wait, hold up. How did you know I made watches and painted them? Let me find out if you've been stalkin a brother,” I joked. The room erupted in laughter. I looked at her, and a small smile crept onto her face. “I was given a great tour. Keith did an excellent job, and we stopped by the studio last to see if I could get some time to learn a few moves real quick.”

“We’d be honored to have you. Here, you can partner with one of our finest, Amara.” “Only if it isn’t a bother,” I posited, looking at her. “No. Not at all,” she said softly. “Alright, y'all all since Mr. Hodge is joining us, we will take it down and practice or choreo to Toni’s ‘You’re Makin’ Me High,’” the instructor, who answered to the name Jamaica, said. She went over the first part of the choreography step by step. It was simple enough, even though I got a couple of chuckles and redirects from Amara. After a couple of individual practices, we all came together and rehearsed them. For someone who only two steps, ya boi was getting it in. I didn’t look out of place. When I got to pull Amara in and dance with her, I felt the same rush I felt two months ago when she took my breath away with the whining of her waist. 

Can’t get my mind off you/ Think I might be obsessed/ The very thought of you makes me wanna get undressed/ I wanna be with you in spite of what my heart says/ I guess I want you too bad…

Toni was speaking my exact sentiments through the speakers, which must have shown because once we were done with steps, a round of applause erupted. 

“Okay, chemistry!!! Mr. Hodge, how long you gonna be in town because we may need you to perform this with us?” Jamaica asked. Reluctantly I broke eye contact with Amara in order to answer Jamaica. “I can move some things around. Let me know what yall need.” “Oh, don’t tell me that 'cause I’mma hit your line about it too!” “I got you,” I replied, looking back at Amara. 

I learned a couple of other things, and by the time the class was over, I had come out of my quarter zip and drenched my beater. I walked over to get a towel.

“Of all the dance studios in Brooklyn, you walk into this one?” I heard a voice beside me say. I removed the towel from my face to look at her. “Aint that something?” She looked at me intently. “You aren’t following me, are you?” “You cute and all, but I don’t need to stalk women to speak to them,” I replied. I lied. She wasn’t cute, she was gorgeous. The way a single bead of sweat curved around her brown slid down her temple and cheek, and curved down her jaw made me want to lick it. While it was a happy coincidence that Isaiah’s cheating ass happened to run into her going into the studio, the rest was all me. I definitely was looking into her and learning all I could about her. She looked at me momentarily, said, “Ok then,” and turned on her heels. I fucked up. I didn’t want to make it seem as though I wasn’t interested at all, but that was the energy it was giving. I had to save the moment. 

“But since we are both here and it’s late, is there a place you like to go to grab something to eat?” I asked, hoping this would bring the conversation back to a good place. “The bodega around the corner has bomb sandwiches.” “You wanna walk together?” “You cute and all, but I usually don't go with men places unless I know them.” “So you think I’m cute?” “I think you’re capable of finding a bodega and getting a sandwich.” 

I smirked. “You got it. If you change ya mind, that’s where I’ll be headed.” I cleaned myself off, threw on my quarter zip and jacket, and headed down with Keith. After saying goodbye to Keith and the other kids waiting to be picked up, I headed to the bodega she had mentioned. There was a high possibility that I fucked things up back there, but something in me hoped— prayed she would just see it as nerves and come anyway. 

When I got to the bodega, I placed my order and got two more orders. I walked around the store and stopped in the back. I pulled out my phone and checked a couple of texts. I got two drinks out of the fridge and returned to the side of the store where they were making the sandwiches. Like clockwork, the store manager came out to inspect the ground. He was orange with long whiskers and a striped tail. If you’re in NY and you don’t see a bodega cat, be suspicious.  “Papi, ya order is next," said the Bodega owner. “Thank you.” I went back to check my phone to pass the time. I responded to one email about a potential role and thought about some others. “Three orders? You just knew I was coming, huh!”  I heard from behind me. I turned around, and there she stood.

--------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading this very elaborate meet-cute and hopefully the start of yet another series that I will finish (lol). I've tagged everyone that I could remember too, but if you're coming across me for the first time and want to be tagged in this fic or any others, please comment and let me know you wanna be tagged!

Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm @hotgrlcece @planetblaque @blackgurlnhermoods @andriaharris @theblacklewinsky @kumkaniudaku @lovelyflames @girlbeblogging @toiadeenovels @longpause-awkwardsmile @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sirenmouths @almostelectroniccheesecake @liquorlaughslove @meleekabenjamin @19jammmy @thoseprettywords @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @stellarxfresh @noirelyfe @moooonluvr @kinginwithbreezy-blog @bunniibooooo @sk1121-blog1 @luckydaye777 @hgabdakhtui @ovohanna24 @bratattack209 @greantii @rue0224 @jazziejax @whatdreamsaremadeofbitch @absentmindeddreamer @soft-persephone @dragonfly1207 @strawberrymoon45 @kxngkaykay @nayaesworld @uzumaki-rebellion @wolfiediaries @off-pink @zoey101-2 As always, let me know what you think about this fic. Comment, Reblog, Like, Tell A Friend!

[impala124]

Bad Buddy Ep 11

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7 | Ep 8 | Ep 9 | Ep 10

Me, at the end of this episode:

Oh, nothing to see here. Just a pair of queer kids running away from home (temporarily?) because their love isn't accepted by their parents.

Okay, where are we now? A zero waste village and a seaside town. Don't tell me we're going back to the architecture volunteer camp town from Ep 6.

They are talking about Uncle Tong. So, they did go back to the camp town from Ep 6.

Junior, their unlicensed couples counselor, is here too!!

My boys clearly didn't plan this trip, and it shows. Thank God for Uncle Tong, who is going to let them stay with him.

Junior doesn't want to leave this little seaside town. I get you, Junior! Boy, do I get you.

"Whoever talks about our parents first loses." Everything's gotta be a competition with these two. I just can't 😂 I mean, given how the last deal (confession) they made ended with both of them winning, I'm looking forward to this.

Pran asking Pat to get his head off his tummy because it's heavy and Pat saying that it's because Pran is always on his mind. Well, Pran, you chose to pine after this boy for years, so deal with this!!

Both of them are hopeless in the kitchen. Pran can at least toast some bread to save his life.

Remember when Pat set the fire alarm off trying to grill some sausages for Pran? yeah.

They'll be eating toasted bread with condensed milk or ketchup until one of them takes some cooking classes.

Junior is clearly the head chef today, with Pran acting as the sous chef, and Pat is just doing his part by not taking part in the cooking.

Their brand of flirting is not kid-friendly, so sir, please calm yourself.

Pran is thinking about his mom while making her special sauce and reminiscing about his time as her assistant in the kitchen. 😭😭😭.

Pat saying, 'We can do anything we want here,' while forcing the guitar into Pran's hands. The parallels between Pran playing the guitar and Pran loving Pat are paralleling.

Who is that uncle with Uncle Tong, and why did he comment on Pran's guitar skills? Is he going to offer Pran a JOB??!!

Pat is definitely one of God's stronger soldiers for allowing Pran to serenade him with company present. I'll leave it there

Junior wants to be like Uncle Tong when he grows up, but his mom wants something 'less tiring' for him. Interesting.

Pat saying, 'Don't believe everything she says. Adults aren't always right', to which Pran can only reply with a noncommittal Hmmm is very telling. Pran, my beloved, What are you thinking??

Junior is running away from his mom. Now, where else can I find boys who are running away from their parents because they too want something else for their kids? No, not here. Okay, I guess I'll have to keep looking.

The conversation between Junior's mom and Pran is something every young adult (at least the Asian ones for sure; can't speak for others) has at least once in their lifetime.

Of course, Pran, my beloved, looks at Junior's mom and thinks of his own.

Junior insists on staying, but his mom wants to take him back as planned. The foreshadowing is so loud with this one that I need to get some earplugs to protect my ears.

Hey, it's the uncle from before, and he's the owner of this bar.

They've clearly reverted to using the BARTER SYSTEM in this town because I've yet to see any money exchange hands.

I've got my theories on Pran looking longingly at the sight of a random guy playing the guitar and commenting that he's great when Pat asks him if he wants to join along. You see, it has everything to do with him feeling UNDESERVING of Pat's love.

I guess Pran wants to finish that unfinished song that he sang for Pat and Junior the other day.

Pat, bestie, what do you mean Uncle Yod (the bar owner, I guess) is offering y'all a permanent job??!! Do you guys have a duration in mind for how long the trip will be? Thank you, Pran, for asking Pat if he wants to stay for a long time.

Oh, Pran just putting the SIM card away after Pat more or less tells him that he, in fact, does want to stay there for some time 😭😭.

Pran, sir, your avoidant behavior is acting up; get it under control.

See, now, I'll be defending Pran wanting to call his mom because Pat informed Pa about his whereabouts, so Pat's family knows that he's okay, which isn't the case with Pran.

Pran's "I don't want to go back now" is very telling with heavy emphasis on the now.

See, relationships aren't easy, and they don't just happen; it takes effort and communication.

Pat is pissed, which he definitely has a right to be.

Now, don't tell me that Pran brought THE SEAWEED SNACK from Ep 6 and offered it to Pat.

He did. Pat, now's the time for payback. I understand that you're mad at Pran, and taking the snack, which is clearly a peace offering, would be giving in, BUT LICK PRAN'S FINGER, damnit. DO IT FOR ME.

Pat didn't give in, bestie; where'd you get that restraint from, and can I borrow it?

'I can be anywhere as long as I have you.' ASDFGHGGF

So, Pat was ready to fold when Pran offered him the snack, so we are kind of in the same boat in the restraint department.

The kiss on the beach is just ADFGSHG. I love their playful kisses, bit the emotional ones just make me go feral.

Now, I'm glad they got to have their first time here, without Pa's bladder interrupting them.

Post-nut clarity is real because they clearly made some decisions, even if they haven't shared them with each other yet.

Okay, Junior is leaving with his mom.

No, but they actually do look like a pair of dads sending off their son to boarding school before the term begins.

'To be with you for at least one more day... ' Who's chopping the fucking onions over here?!

@starryalpacasstuff I guess this is where the faith you told me to have comes into play. I'll take your word for it, bestie, and persist because I don't think I like where this is headed.

Pran is crying, and I'm not OKAY.

They are leaving the next day??!!

Uncle Tong is the unsung hero of this series, and everyone deserves to have someone like him in their corner.

Reusable tumbler, you say? You, Uncle Tong, are an inspiration!!

Pran serenading Pat with a song he wrote about their love is going to be the death of me.

I'm getting glimpses of Pa & Ink, Korn & Wai together—so my ships are sailing smoothly.

"You might think one man can't change the world. But I want you to know that this world can't change someone like me either"—words to live by, especially in these trying times.

'Have you ever pictured what it'd be like if our families weren't enemies?' I'm glad you asked, bestie, because I've been thinking about it since the day I met y'all. You guys would've been like Ink and Pa.

Fam, let it be on record that Dissaya serving Pat her seafood sauce and them feeding each other before their family broke me irrevocably😭😭😭. She didn't even let Pat give Pran some admin documents irl.

Let's go home & Good luck, buddy with tears in their eyes.

I don't know why I'm this affected because this was the only plausible outcome. But this shit still hurts. It's a good thing I planned ahead and can just dive into the next episode now.

The whole sequence of Pat throwing away the SIM card by saying that no one can bother them now, encouraging Pran to do the same by dangling the possibility of freedom in front of him, and Pran following through and Pat revealing that he just pretended to throw it away, which makes Pran reveal that he too didn't throw away the card because he knows Pat just screams foreshadowing with throwing away the SIM cards being a metaphor for severing ties with their parents. Pat is a filial son, to his own detriment at times, and Pran knows it.

Pran's "Being with you already feels like freedom" to Pat & his "Is it even my job to be responsible for your feelings?" to his mom are very interesting, to say the least. There is a lot of emphasis being put on Pran and his desire for freedom. Me thinks Pran is ready to stop letting others, especially his mom, make decisions for him.

They doubled down on the whole 'familial rivalry being an allegory to homophobia' thing in the episode with

Run away to a place where there's only us. Do you think they'll allow it? Our parents won't. But some people might. We like each other. Why does it bother anyone?

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow @desi-yearning. If anyone wishes to be tagged in the future, let me know.

[circle--of--confusion]

A Breathtaking Affair

Summary:

In an alternate Universe @ficandkaboodle and I have been spitballing, this is a vignette in Reader and Copia's lives. Copia's old nose was a very lovely feeling down there when you two would have sex. Now that it's changed, you miss it. A solution was brought up and you two try it out with unexpected results.

A/N: Thank you for encouraging me to write this, it was so fun. Also, itallian endearments were helpfully provided by @foxybouquet

Paring: Papa Copia x fem!reader

Words: 4.2k

Tags: Explicit! MDNI; Crackfic vibes, established relationship, fluff, smut, hand jobs, oral sex, unconventional sex toys, passing out

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Copia’s face changed when he became Papa. He’s still the handsome man you devote yourself to – and he is devoted to you as well – but there’s something missing from his gentle, wrinkling face. Something that was always a beloved inclusion to the lovely feeling of him going down on you.

When he had plastic surgery to fix the crooked nose he received from an impromptu, clumsy Papa Terzo incident, you mentally mourned the loss of his nosey companion. Terzo was going on and on about how to plan the staging for his next tour when tragedy struck.

“I was thinking of opening with Cirice, eh? Get the crowd going. I’ll dazzle them by showing how wonderful I am.” He gestures outward as if to say you agree, yes? Terzo picks up the small Baphomet statue placed on the table. “Then after I have them in my hands, the next song is Con Clavi Con Dio. BAM! SATAN!”

Terzo lobs the statue forward like a baseball, not realizing his grip wasn’t so secure. It thuds painfully against a grunting Cardinal. Copia.

“Ah shit, Papa!” Copia groans, covering his now bloody nose.

Terzo rolls his eyes. “Stop being such a baby, Fratello. I think I made some improvements.”

Improvements they were not. The following days after the incident, Copia’s nose was swelled up like a balloon. Once it died down, all that was left was a slightly crooked version of his nose from before. You still cooed at him, comforted him after the entire thing and jokingly told him he’ll have to get his revenge when he became Papa.

Copia smirked at you as if he already had something in mind. It was a bit ominous.

Now, as Papa, he decided to get his nose fixed as a “treat yourself” moment in his rise to the Papacy. You supported him in the decision with a small kiss and thought his snoring would probably improve a bit with less bent airways at night while the two of you slept together in his bed. For some reason Sister Imperator tagged along for the ordeal and got a procedure of her own.

After the bandages came off, you had to hide the initial shock of truly how different his nose was. Gone was the adorable, handsome angled protrusion you grew to love. Now he had a regular, slightly curved slope to his nose and the point was more rounded. His jaw was also now more pronounced. It was still your wonderful Copia but it took a minute to adjust every time you saw him the following few days.

Every time he nudged his nose around your face in the mornings, cuddling into you, it was almost as if you felt phantom touches of where the former would’ve grazed as he kisses over your face and further down.

For a couple weeks, any sharp angle had you sighing wistfully. Triangles made you sad. A wedge of cheese at dinner one time nearly made you whimper.

Now, finished with his healing and with a little bit of free time at night from not being on tour, you hatched a plan. You figured there was one way you could get your favorite toy back. Copia caught you grinning to yourself as he came back into his bedroom from the bathroom.

“What has you smiling like that amore mio? It better not be something other than me.” Copia teased, crawling towards you on the bed. He sits back against his pillows and leans over to kiss you. Rising a hand to your cheek, he holds you in place as the two of you press your lips together, sighing contently.

You, feeling bold, nudge forward and manage to get Copia on his back. He raises his eyebrow towards you with a dirty twinkle in his eye. “It was about you, actually.” You smile, leaning over him to lean down and continue kissing for a moment.

“Was it about you doing this? My piccola diavoletta.”

“Something else, actually.”

Copia chuckles. “I see. Buttering me up to ahhhhh.” He looks down to find your hand gently palming his semi-hard dick over his pajama pants. “Piccolo angioletto mio” He breathes, settling further into the mattress to let you continue.

“And if you play your cards right,” you laugh lowly, pressing harder for just a moment. He lets out a few stuttered huffs in response, closing his eyes. “,I’ll give you what you want.”

Copia laughs nervously. “I was wrong. You’re my naughty little angel.”

“Good.” You lean down to press a kiss to his lips. He scrunches up his face from the pleasure you keep at bay for him below. “I’ve noticed something missing when we have sex.”

“What?” He whines, on the brink of falling already.

“Your nose.”

Copia opens his eyes, distracted and confused enough to briefly open his eyes and look at you. “I know what?”

You look taken aback. He can’t be this obtuse, right? Delicately, you lean down and peck over his paintless nose. “Are you following?”

The lights click on in his head and he smirks only to have it fade into an O shape as he closes his eyes from another wave of pleasure. “Yes.” By now you’ve nudged down his bottoms and have his freed erection in your hands, slowly pumping away.

You can’t tell if he’s responding to the thing your hand is doing or if it’s what you’re implying. “Would you be willing to try something new?” More pressure is applied to his pulsing cock in your hand. He’s shaking, babbling, and nodding wordlessly as he moans and writhes under your touch.

“Anything, amore mio. Just please let me come.” Copia grumbles desperately with his eyes scrunched closed.

“I have one question.”

“What?”

“Are you allergic to latex or silicone?” Copia shakes his head. “Perfect.”

You lean down to kiss him, picking up pace with your hand below. A few more final pumps have Copia crying into your mouth in euphoria. His spend runs down your closed fist and parts of his lower stomach. You’re both too focused on each other’s lips to care about the mess right now. You stroke him through the satisfying bliss, stopping when Copia whines in oversensitivity.

Later, after you clean him up, you give him the explanation.

“How do you feel about prosthetics?” You ask as casually as possible.

Copia thinks to himself for a moment, tossing around his forming response in his head before looking over to you below in his arms. “Are you saying you want me to wear a fake nose?”

“I knew you weren’t just a pretty face.” You smile, looking up at him.

Copia scoffs a high-pitched, realizing note. “Is this why you were so sad after my surgery? Was my old nose your favorite sex toy?”

You rise on one arm and rub a hand over his chest in an attempt to placate him with your touch. “It nudged so perfectly at my clit when you were kissing… other places below. Copia, it helped me squirt for the first time.”

He looks at you, then off to the side, then back at your hopeful eyes. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

You smile ear to ear. “So, it’s a yes?”

“Amore mio, with you I’ll try anything once.”

Famous last words.

A few days go by before it’s showtime. There was a local costume shop in town so you took a lovely stroll and stopped by. The options were slim but you managed to find something similar. Thanking the cashier, you carried your experiment and its accompanying items into the ministry as if it were contraband. You hid it in your bag and made your way to Copia’s Papal suite as quickly as you could.

Copia, lounging on the couch, looks up to find you rushing inside with a smile. “Did you get it?” He asks, a bit of apprehension creeping up.

You nod, pointing back and forth. “You. Me. Tonight?” The plastic bag rustles in your hand as you hold it up.

“Tonight.” Copia nods back.

You can barely eat dinner, you’re too excited. Copia on the other hand looks over warily and it’s noticeable. You set down your fork, reaching over with your other hand across the small table to grab his gloved hand.

“You don’t want to do this, do you?”

Copia’s eyes widen in shock. “No! I do! I just…”

“What?” You rub your thumb over the back of his hand.

He shakes his head to himself. “It’s silly.”

“Not if it has you like this.” You urge him to say it.

Copia sighs. “If I don’t do this, will you not like me as much?”

You sit up straight. “Of course not. I still like you the same. I dare say I love you.” Copia smiles softly to himself.

“But my old nose was your favorite thing about me when we had sex.”

You sigh, standing up. Nudging the table away from him, you sit and straddle his lap. He smiles as you place your hands on his shoulders, sliding back to play with the ends of his hair at his neck. “I may have said it was but honestly, I’ve realized that my favorite sex toy is simply… you. All of you. The pointy nose was just a bonus. A nose-us.”

Copia groans, leaning his head back to laugh. You join in and soon his body relaxes. The air in the room feels lighter as the two of you grin lovingly towards each other.

“I think I’m ready now.” Copia looks on, leaning in for a small kiss.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair a few times. He closes his eyes, relaxing into your touch. “Let’s get ready.”

The dinner dishes get cleaned and then the prosthetic supplies are drawn out. The glue, brushes, and liquid latex, and removing solvent are placed onto the table and then the moneymaker comes out.

“It’s modeled after Vincent Price. It’s the only one I could find that looked similar enough.” You smile sheepishly.

Copia wraps an arm around you, tugging you into his hip. He kisses the side of your head. “It’s fine, amore mio. I think it looks very similar, indeed.”

You clean the area around his nose and then get to work prepping the ends of the fake nose. Delicately, the prosthetic is applied over his new nose and you press in the material around the edges. When you feel like the hold is strong enough, you step back.

“Well?” Copia asks, a bit more nasally than intended. The nose had very small air holes.

“Perfect. Though your voice is a bit off.”

He tries to talk and then attempts to sing something but it’s slightly muffled. “It’s a good thing I don’t do stuff like this on stage.”

You both laugh.

Copia walks towards you and then grabs your hand, leading the two of you back to the bedroom. He leans down to kiss you and the point of the nose bumps yours on the way down. He chuckles, “I guess this is going to work, eh?”

You nod, eager now to test it out further. “Let’s see what this bad boy can do.”

You both make quick work to take off your clothes and soon the two of you stand as naked as the day you were born. Copia takes your hand and rises it to place a kiss to your knuckles. “Shall we get to it?”

You nod, leading the way. You’re laid back into the bed, legs bent as your feet rest flat to the covers. They part, resting open, leaving your body on full display for his hungry eyes. You playfully rise a hand, curling a finger, beckoning him forward. He practically floats on autopilot and crawls onto the bed, stalking closer until he’s nestled between your legs. Copia holds himself up as he hovers over you.

“Amore mio…” He sighs, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You stay like this for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of intimacy. The soft silicone on his nose grazes next to yours and you smile into his mouth. Slowly, he pokes his tongue over to your lips and you gladly open wide for him.

He lowers down into your body slowly and the pressure of him on top has a sigh leave your lips. Your arms wrap around him, holding Copia to you tenderly. There’s a comforting warmth spreading through your body as he begins a path from your mouth downward, dragging the tip of the nose along to fluster you. Copia’s feeling lightheaded and he pulls back to take a deep breath.

“You take my breath away.” He huffs, chest moving quickly up and down.

You tilt your head, grinning. “I think it’s the nose cutting off the airflow.”

Copia chuckles. “Wish me luck down there?”

You look on with concern for a second, reaching out for his hand. “Oh, please don’t push yourself. I’d hate for you to die because you didn’t take a break.”

“And if I die between your thighs? I go doing what I love, cara mia.” He looks at you like a man in love, leaning back in to kiss your lips one last time.

His sweet albeit morbid words put you at ease and you lean back into the pillows. “Well, I’ll just let you continue I guess!”

Copia huffs out a laugh, lowering down to his stomach. He presses a trail of kisses down from your shoulder, between your chest, down the soft expanse of your stomach, stopping right where you both want. He spent a good couple minutes worshiping your breasts, licking and kissing over the soft and sensitive flesh. When his lips took a nipple in to suck, you gasped, feeling the growing wetness below from his attention. Oh, that mouth would make you do anything, you think.

He looks up at you from between your thighs, starving in anticipation. You fidget under him, feeling restless for the first touch of the nose when Copia puts his mouth on your pussy. He looks at you when his head begins to sink down lower, lower, lower until –

“Ohmmmm, Copia.” You moan out, finally feeling the glorious attention of his lips on yours below. Your head falls back into the pillows and one hand slides over to grip into his hair. He hums from a slight tug on his follicles and the vibrations directly into your clit create a fluttering of butterflies in your stomach. Content hums come from you as your hand in his hair encourage him to continue.

Another deep breath from Copia can be heard before he gets back to it. He gives some attention to your clit, licking and sucking just like he did on your nipples. His delicate work builds up and the occasional flutter of your pussy have small whimpers leaving your lips. He smiles, satisfied that you’re already so worked up. Slowly, his tongue leaves the delightful bundle of nerves to explore further down, happily slurping up the arousal you’re making for him, and only him.  

“Oh, Copia,” you moan. “You always know how to make me feel so good. You, ah!” Your thought was cut short but it was because you felt it. The prosthetic nose brushes just slightly across your sensitive clit as Copia licks and kisses your labia. A shudder runs down your spine and it feels heavenly and sinful at the same time. He builds and builds your pleasure on is tongue and without thinking, your hips shift to match the rhythm of his mouth. A wide smile graces your face as your eyes close as you rock your hips against his mouth and nose.

Copia smirks and leans back slightly for another deep breath causing you to whine. “It is everything you hoped it would be?” His voice is husky as he huffs deep breaths.

You can’t think properly, babbling out a string of “yes, yes, yes” for him so he’d keep it up. Copia grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to him and he picks up in enthusiasm. “Fuck, keep doing that, please Copia!” You cry out from the rapid nudging of the silicone over your clit as he licks and drinks from you like a man starved.

“Amore mio.” Copia rumbles in his chest, humping into the mattress to give his aching cock some relief as he brings you over into bliss. He grips firmer into your thighs, picking up pace at the sound of your staccato whimpers. His head is starting to feel funny and his vision goes blurry. Copia closes his eyes and presses on, making sure to angle the nose just right over your clit to have you shaking in his grip.

The sound in the room is beginning to fade for Copia as the cries of your orgasm ring out into the air and flow onto his tongue. He grunts and shudders, feeling a warm, wet sensation spurting out from his cock into the comforter in his satisfaction of making you overcome with pleasure. Spots dot around behind Copia’s eyelids and his heart races as the sound in the room ceases around him.

The last think he heard were your pleasured cries of “Oh, fuck.” as your hand gripped his hair when his consciousness went dark.

You’re too distracted from the ecstasy Copia gave to you with the fake nose and his talented mouth to notice his hips have stilled as well as his mouth. Coming down from the high and trying to settle your racing heartbeat, you look down to an unmoving Copia. You move his head up to find his eyes are closed and when you release his head, it plops back down between you.

Your heart is now racing for a different reason as panic sets in. Survival mode takes over and you jolt from the bed, rushing to find the solvent to remove the nose from him. If need be, you’ll cut it off. You mutter “Shit, shit, shit” through the apartment as you run around like a Papa Terzo with its head cut off.While turning over his body, his chest is still rising a small amount and you can still feel a slight, desperate pulse. You get the nose off quickly and search for your phone, dialing the all-hours clinic.

“Copia, my love. Please be alive. I don’t want my vagina to have a body count.” You whimper into his hair as you brush your fingers through it. You managed to awkwardly pull up some sweats onto his legs after cleaning him up and you yourself have thrown on whatever clothes you can find so the paramedic ghouls don’t walk in on you two naked.

The ghouls take him to the clinic after making sure he was, in fact, still alive but just passed out from the lack of oxygen to his brain. The head nurse on duty sat you down and talked you through it. She’s asked you if he showed symptoms earlier in the day, if he was feeling tired and short of breath. You shook your head and said it was more sudden.

“What were you two doing just before he passed out?” She asked, holding her hand over yours to comfort you.

“Well, uh,” you blush, looking away towards where he sleeps in a bed. “We were doing something new in bed and uh.”

She encourages you to continue. “Yes.”

“He had something over his nose and it might’ve restricted his airflow when he was,” you point with your free hand. “,when he was down there.”

The nurse smiles, chuckling. She pats your hand and then gets up. “He should wake up soon, if that helps at all. His pulse isn’t too weak and you can pull up a chair and sit by him if you want to wait.”

You nod rapidly. Slowly walking over to Copia, you sit down at the side of his bed. Resting your head on his leg, you take his hand and kiss his knuckles softly. You tenderly hold his hand in yours and never let your eyes wander from his face, eager to see the fluttering lashes when he wakes up. The adrenaline from the emergency has left now and your eyelids start to feel heavy. There looks like there could be room for you on the bed and slowly you crawl on top, the metal frame squeaking below from the extra weight.

You cuddle Copia to you and finally close your eyes, holding his hand up to your chest with your hand over it. The night passes and now the beginning rays of sunshine bringing in the next day float through the crack in the curtains. The light brushing of a thumb over your hand had your eye opening to see yours and Copia’s hands switched at some point in the night. Did you do that? You stare down at the intertwined hands before the soft chuckle reaches your ears.

“It was me.” Copia softly teases. “Good morning, cara mia.”

You jerk your head towards him, smiling. “You’re awake!” You softly exclaim.

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your face in place so he can lean in for a kiss. “I’ve been up for a few hours now, actually.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You pout.

Copia runs his thumb over your lips and smiles. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful, finally resting after what was probably a very scary experience.”

You frown, nuzzling into him. “It was.”

“I’ve always heard about autoerotique asphyxiation but I’m not sure that’s one I’d like to repeat.”

You shift, laying on your side, wrapping an arm around his stomach. “I think I know what the issue was. Part of the instructions said to make the nose holes bigger after you get it on so it can sit flush with your own.”

Copia chuckles. “And you didn’t think to read that!”

“I,” you huff. “I think I was too blinded by excitement and pure lust to think straight.”

“Story of our lives, eh?”

The nurse comes in, a different woman from last night, and you hop down from the bed so they can run some vitals. His left hand is held in both of yours as you sit down in the chair on that side of the bed while they check on him. The nurse deems him back at a normal heart rate and that he’s ready to go back to your shared apartment, warning only to pause any strenuous activity for a couple days. She signs off a discharge note of rest and hydration.

“Rest up, Papa. Take it easy.” She says, bidding you two a goodbye.

You borrow a wheelchair from them and after a stroll through the halls, thankfully free of anyone this early, you two make it back home. He slowly rises from the chair, grunting and making the occasional “ehe” noise as he eventually stands upright.

“I have never felt more like an old man than I do now.” Copia sighs, moving a hesitant foot forward.

“Your energy will return; you just need rest like they said.” You walk over, wrapping your arms around his waist. With your help, he’s able to walk the short trek into the bedroom to lay down on his side of the bed. A couple ghouls have come in and changed the sheets and comforter for clean ones while you two were away. “Need anything?” You ask, brushing his hair with your fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“Just you.” He opens his eyes and his mismatched gaze looks up at you longingly, pleading for you to cuddle with him.

You grin. “One second. Let me go grab some water and snacks for later.”

He’s reluctant to let you go but upon your return, his face lights up. Copia makes grabby hands at you, restless to have you wrapped together once again. You giggle, scolding him without any actual anger for being so impatient.

You sigh, settling together in bed. Copia lies on his back while you rest your chest on his. Your hand rubs soft, soothing circles over his heart. Copia handles the remote to the TV in your room, tapping through the list of movies he’ll put on for background noise. Some time passes and you look up to find his eyes on you first.

“What’cha thinking about?” Copia smiles.

“You were such a champ through all of this, and I just wanted to say thank you.” You move to kiss the bottom of his chin from where you’re positioned. “I think you’ve earned something.”

Copia looks puzzled. “Earned what?”

You shift again to rest on your arm, propped up next to him. You hand on his chest continues to rub small circles, smiling. “The next time we have sex, I’ll call you Papa in bed.”

He makes a sharp humming sound and locks eyes with you, grinning deviously. “Oh, really?” Copia begins to lean over to get you on your back. He seems ready to pounce but in the next second, He’s breathing heavy and his face pales. You can feel his heartbeat picking up under your palm.

Slowly you coax him back down onto his back. “Please, Copia. Follow orders. I don’t want a repeat incident so soon.”

Copia winks up at you and you lean down to kiss him, humming into each other. When you pull back, his face has returned to its usual color, now with a faint blush. “As I said, amore mio. You take my breath away.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it Translations: My piccola diavoletta [little devil] Piccolo angioletto mio [my little angel]

All credits to FicAndKaboodle for the cheese wedge line and the "nose-us" pun. it was too hilarious not to put in there.

[im-just-a-dumb-gay]

Sonic Odyssey Comic:

To explain a little, Bean's mom was trying to distract the Armada so she could escape with the kids and her egg.

[francy-sketches]

Hiiiii guess who finished her pmv. finally. um enjoy :3

[ruvviks]

The resistance has fallen. Mac and Layla and their friends have been driven out of Los Angeles and are hunted down by Matrix Corp, the corporation now proven to have played a rather antagonistic part in the pandemic that unleashed bloodthirsty zombies upon the world. With no foot to stand on and no safe home to fall back on, the group has to trek back into the wasteland to reunite with some old friends— in hopes to find the stability they need to work on a plan to take Matrix down once and for all. But strange things are happening in the wastes of the United States. Ghouls are becoming smarter, and stronger— and the sudden appearance of a series of strange and hostile settlements tells the group a new player has entered the game, and they are out for blood. [SEASON ONE HERE] // [SEASON TWO HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @bialanwake, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners;

@mnwlk

[duskgryphon-png]

can't work on it because i still have to clear out space but looking at old frames from my poison jam animatic again...

[loverboybrightsideghost]

i saw anastasiaaaaa 🥰🥰🥰👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🗣️🗣️🗣️🥳🥳🥳🥳