#This has been on my mind lately and I needed to let it out

[thevillainswhore]

Deserving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Bucky has internal scars too deeply imbedded that cause him to hide away from the world on the dark days. But he always knows, no matter how long he takes, you’ll forever be waiting for him on the other side — the light to bring him home.

Warnings: Established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health, themes of depression, nudity (non sexual), depreciation/self esteem issues, Bucky is seriously sad, fluff.

Author’s Note: Proofread by @buck-star. Divider by @saradika-graphics. This is a little bit of a heavy one folks ❤️‍🩹 not usually my thing, but after a difficult couple of months I needed to get this out. My inboxes are always open for those who are struggling with their mental health, thank you for reading x

“How long has he been locked in there?” Steve’s concerned voice interrupts the silence of the compound late at night while you sit at the kitchen table, aimlessly stirring your now cold tea. 

You clear your throat and look up, the anxiety visibly courses through your features just as it does your friend. “Just over a week now, I think.” 

Steve sighs. “It’s gotten bad again.” 

You hum, unable to muster up anything else. It had been seven days of constant worry since the moment you had woken up on that first day to find the warm heap of muscle that usually tangled its limbs with yours wasn’t next to you in bed, but rather instead locked away in the bathroom. 

Bucky insists it’s what’s best for him; to shut himself from the world when his thoughts become dark and his nightmares come back from the dead to haunt him. But it was difficult to let him wallow in depression by himself, knowing his self destructive tendencies enjoy the hacking to his self esteem. 

Steve shuffles his weight between his feet, looking unsure of himself. “Shouldn’t we intervene by now?” He steps further into the kitchen and sits on the chair opposite you. “Surely we can’t let him continue like this.” 

You smile ruefully and push your mug to the side. “Steve, honey,” you begin carefully. “I know you’re concerned because he’s your best friend. Trust me, it’s hard for me to sit here and wait it out too. But you can’t force someone out of the recesses of their mind when they get like this.” Sliding your arms across the table, you gather Steve’s hands in yours. “Especially not Bucky.” 

The look on his face breaks your heart. “I know, I know. I just hate seeing him like this”, he sighs sadly. “I hate the feeling of doing nothing while he’s struggling.”

“Me too, sweetie.” You squeeze his hands before leaning back in your chair. “All we can do is give gentle encouragement. Let him know we’re here whenever he’s ready.” 

Although the worry was all the same in these situations, you were well seasoned with how to maintain your distance for Bucky’s well being, while also showing your love from afar by now. For example, the meals you had left him every single day without fail outside of your shared room; his favourite comfort food with a sweet treat baked specifically by you to give him some energy. 

Or the blankets you love so much slipped into the room without breaking the promise of seeing Bucky before he was ready. Without looking, you would open the door and place the fluffy material by the floor. You also took the time to spray it with your daily perfume as a familiar comfort Bucky could relish in without your physical form. 

It broke your heart to be away from him for so long, even if you were in the same vicinity as each other — always only a distance away that you could run to within sixty seconds should he need you. However, you knew this was what he needed. After the first time this happened within your relationship and you had no idea what he needed from you during that time, the two of you had sat down and discussed how you could support him better going forward. 

“Don’t worry,” you reassure gently before moving away from the table and placing your mug into the sink. “He’ll come to, he always does. Just gotta give him some time.” 

“Will you—,” Steve swallows his words harshly before trying again. “Could you let me know if he’s okay when you hear something?” Almost silently, he adds, “Please?”

You realise then that this is Bucky’s best friend, the man who defied every order and rule book to save him — multiple times. There’s a vulnerability in his ocean blue eyes and your heart is happy that the love of your life has other people that adore him just as much as you do. You wish Bucky could see the extent as easily. 

Softening your eyes, you don’t divert your attention for a second as you sincerely swear, “Of course, Stevie. I’ll make sure FRIDAY gets a message to you.” 

Steve blows out a heavy breath, seemingly lighter than he was when he first came in. “Thank you.” 

You share a delicate smile, an understanding between teammates, friends and two people who love Bucky so immensely. You’re about to bid him good night, ready to retreat to your old room just down the hall from your shared one with Bucky when a set of footsteps, timid and apprehensive creep towards you. Steve turns his head at the same time as you to find the very man on both your minds. 

“Bucky.” The relief in your voice is loud and the tension that you hadn’t even realised was so tightly weaved into your limbs instantly relaxes at the sight of him. It takes everything in you to not run into his arms, not wanting to spook him, so you tamper your emotions and stay rooted in your place while your eyes greedily take him in for the first time in a week. “Hi, baby.” 

Your boyfriend, head down with his long, matted hair hiding his face, lifts his head slightly until a peek of storm grey meets your gaze. You clock the dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the chapped lips that have been bitten restlessly. The clothes, stained with sweat marks, lay unusually baggy on his form. Normally, his shirts sit snug on the muscles of his biceps and his toned stomach and his sweatpants fit defined around his thick thighs. However in the week separated from him, Bucky has lost a fair amount of weight you conclude from lack of training and eating. 

Though his stature is hunched and he’s so desperately trying to hide away in plain sight, Bucky is here, visible and alive. He’s in front of you because he wants to be, you know that from past experience. He’s ready to let you in and take care of him even when the nasty voice in his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it. You try so hard to swallow the lump in your throat and will the tears not to gather in your waterline. 

As Bucky clenches his fingers tightly, the whirring of his vibranium arm filling the silence of the kitchen, you know what he needs right now is for you to take charge. He’s not verbal yet, present but unable to speak and so you step forward slowly until you’re closer to him but not yet crowding his space. 

“How about we run you a bath, hm?” you offer softly, a suggestion rather than an order. While you’re trying to lead, you want him to set the pace — everything on his terms. “The warm water will feel nice on your muscles.” 

With a barely there nod of his head, Bucky accepts and you breathe a little easier knowing he’s still there, just a little lost. But it’s the subtle flex of his fingers, reaching out towards you that threatens to crack you. 

Carefully, you thread your fingers through his. You don’t miss the shudder that violently tracks down his back or the small gasp he lets loose. Your heart is becoming whole once again. 

Before leaving the kitchen, you glance at Steve still standing staring at his best friend. It’s then you stop and tentatively rub your thumb against Bucky’s hand. “Stevie wanted to ask you if you’d be up for a drive sometime soon. Doesn’t that sound good, honey? Taking your bike out for a spin?” 

Steve holds his breath as Bucky lifts his head slightly. “Mhm.” His voice is rough around the edges, the syllables straining against his dry throat. 

It's all he can offer right now. But from the looks of it, Steve’s eyes light up like he’s won the lottery. “Can’t wait, pal. I’m ready whenever you are, just let me know.” 

Your friend then looks to you, mouthing a silent thank you. You smile before ushering Bucky to your room. 

Bucky stands in the corner of the bathroom, looking smaller than you’ve ever seen him. He still hasn’t said anything, instead choosing to remain quiet for now. That was more than okay with you. You would rather slowly pluck away at the wall he’s built around himself and allow him to come forth smoothly. 

Meanwhile, you had rolled your sleeves up, running the water to fill the bathtub. You pick up two options of bubble bath and read them aloud to your boyfriend. “Okay. So we’ve got Lavender or Eucalyptus. Both are great for relaxation. You think you’d prefer one, baby?” 

Bucky doesn’t respond, his owlish eyes blinking at you. Though his actions threaten the well of emotions in your throat, you remain calm and soothing. “That’s alright, honey. We can just put a little of each in. Best of both worlds, huh?” 

Again, there’s no response. But you expect nothing more. You hold no expectations of him, only wanting to gently encourage him out of his shell, just like you’d told Steve earlier. 

You pour each liquid under the running faucet and instantly soapy bubbles begin to form on the surface of the water. Happy with the result, you turn each tap off and smile towards your boyfriend. “All done, Buck.” 

He stands there motionless, eyes darting between you and the bathtub, still making no move towards you. 

“Would you like some help, love?” You move slowly, each step intentionally attentive. “It’s difficult sometimes, to get your body moving, isn’t it?” 

Bucky nods. It's not much, but it's something and you can work with that. 

“Right. We all need help sometimes. No shame in that, Bucky.” You’re in front of him now, a hair's breadth away from each other and you’re thankful to be let into his space. “Would you like me to undress you?” 

The air is stilted as you wait for any kind of indication from Bucky. It’s to your surprise that a gentle whisper slips from his lips. “Please.” 

You hone down the tears bullying their way to the surface. Instead, you smile shakily. “Of course, baby. Anything you need.” 

Raising your hands cautiously, you bring them to Bucky’s eyeline, allowing him to follow each motion you make. You bring them slowly towards the hem of his shirt, lifting the material over his torso and with a small struggle over his shoulders to the top of his head. 

“All okay, Buck? Can I keep going?” You check in, wary of any stipulations to his emotions. Reading his eyes, you know you’re good to reach for his pants. And so you do, taking careful measures to not let your skin connect with his prematurely and without permission. 

With only Bucky’s underwear left, you take one last chance to gain consent. “Am I good to help you take those off? We can keep them on or I can turn around while you do it yourself if you’re not comfortable.” 

But Bucky needs no time before he whispers his fingers against yours. A sign of his authorisation for you to take the reins. 

“Sure thing, honey.” Just like before you send him a reassuring smile before inching the last piece of material down his thighs and finally away from his feet. He stands naked before you and you make sure to look nowhere else other than his eyes. “Thank you for allowing me to do that, Buck. Can I walk you to the bath now?” 

There’s a slight moment of hesitance before Bucky places one foot in front of the other, searching for your hold. Immediately, you place one arm around his back, the other wrapping around his hand. 

You step together in sync, slow for Bucky’s sake. “Great job, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Once you reach the tub, you give some directions. “Okay, you’re gonna step in now and I’m going to be right here with you.” 

Bucky grasps your hand tighter. You know he’s scared you’re going to leave. Gently, you swipe his tangled hair behind his ear and cup his stubbled cheek. “I promise I’m not leaving. I’ll be right by your side, okay love?” 

You see him swallow the lump in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing until he slackens his grip. Not before taking a deep breath, Bucky shakily lifts himself into the bathtub with your assistance and lowers himself into the water until his full body is submerged. 

“There we go.” Your pride for him is certain and absolute. You try your best to show him that. “Hard parts over with now, Buck. Now I can take care of you.” 

His pained groan echoes around the tiles of the bathroom. He’s hiding himself away from you but you’re eventually crumbling his defences down. 

“Let’s get this hair sorted out, huh? I’ll even let you use my shampoo you always steal.” The familiarity of your usual banter is a band aid to the wound so raw and open. Bucky was a fiend for thieving your most expensive toiletries — an excuse already lined up that no men’s products, no matter how costly, could match up to yours. 

Normally you would scold him, jumping into a shower after a prolonged mission only to find your shampoo empty with the bottle still placed on the rack. 

However, you would take those moments a thousand times over if it brought him even a slither of the happiness he supplied to you. 

It's then you run through your next steps with trained precision. You manage to run water over Bucky’s hair without getting any over his face, worried it may trigger him. You ignore the water in the bathtub, once transparent now a ruddy brown. And you silently open the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a generous amount onto your hands. 

“I’m about to climb in. Breathe for me, love.” You’re glad you wore shorts as you dip your foot into the water behind Bucky, swinging your leg over to sit on the ledge with your boyfriend between your thighs. A perfect position to stay close to him and provide him with the utmost care. 

Testing a tender touch upon his head and satisfied that Bucky is comfortable, you begin to lather the shampoo into his scalp. You relish in the grunts fighting their way through, the whimpers that climb up his throat, because this is the only way you know Bucky to finally cave in. Allow himself to be free from the shackles his mind clamps around him. Allow him to breach the prison he’s placed himself in. To come home to you. 

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, purposely softening your voice to a gentle tone. “Let it out, I’ve got you. I’ll catch you.” 

As your nails scratch against his head, the first sob is released. You feel Bucky’s arms wrap around your thigh and his head lays itself upon you as his body begins to shake. You let him. The days worth of degradation and horror he’s allowed himself to relive escaping in this moment. 

“It's okay. Everything’s okay, Bucky.” It's a feat upon itself not to cry with him. A tear tracks down your cheek that you quickly wipe away with your shoulder because it’s your turn to be strong for him. To be the impenetrable wall he can lean on with the knowledge that he won’t fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” he weeps. You’re not sure whether he’s directing his words to you or someone else you’re not privy to. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” 

“Shh.” Your desire to make everything okay for him burns bright. “None of that now, okay? You’re here. With me. I’ve got you.” 

There’s a hole in his heart that’s never ending. Deep and wide and burrowed too far for anyone to try and stitch back together. You’ve tried. Though this kind of damage was irreparable. 

The good days always outweighed the bad. Bucky had come so far along in his healing journey for that to be untrue. But when the demons came out to play, there was no room for anyone else to hold a hand for him to grab on to. Bucky was dragged down into the dungeons of hell, locked away until the monsters had gotten their fix. 

Rinsing the soap out of his hair, Bucky’s wails begin to calm, the tidal wave having hit its peak and descending back down. You keep him close to you, no mind in how wet your clothes are, and quietly hum a tune. 

Your lullaby is eventually the only sound in the room, each note having the desired effect of soothing Bucky into a sense of peace. His limbs have loosened, his shoulders no longer stiff. And you wait ever so patiently for him to break the ice. 

That moment comes when you reach for the bottle of conditioner, beginning to apply it to the ends of Bucky’s hair. “Y-You’re so good to me.” While more stable, his voice still trembles. “Why are you so good to—to me?” 

You thin your lips, willing the cracks in your heart not to spread further than they already have. Grabbing the comb, you start to gently tease your way through the knots matting the strands of his chocolate locks. “That’s because you deserve it, baby,” you say confidently. “You deserve to be taken care of.” 

Bucky sighs, a heavy weight behind it. His next declaration falls from him quietly yet deafening. “Sometimes I don’t think I do.” 

“I know.” With a gentle push of your fingers underneath his chin, Bucky looks up at you, eyes sorrowful and still so beautiful. You lean down to kiss his forehead, then his nose and at last his lips. Against them, you seal your truth. “But believe me when I say it’s easy to love you. Like nothing else I’ve ever done before, no matter what goes on up here.” You tap by the side of his temple twice. “I’m in love with you on your bad days just as much as your good days. There’s no running away from that, Bucky. And I’ll prove that to you every single time, for as long as you need me to.”

His voice is hopeful when he strains out a choked, “Yeah?”” 

You hope your eyes display your conviction. “Every damn time, baby. I’ll bring you back to me.” 

Bucky’s eyes close at the sensation of your loving touch and promises. “I’d like that.” 

Kissing his lips one last time, you lean back up, setting aside the comb and grabbing the washcloth. Bucky stays unmoving, nuzzled into your thigh and so you begin to massage the muscle of his shoulders, humming your song once again. 

“Me too, Bucky.” 

You can’t fix him, you know that. Bucky is a man, tortured by memories and a past that stripped him of basic human rights. But you’re devoted to picking up the pieces he leaves behind, handing them over for him to glue back together. And if you found yourself slowly healing the cracks with your care and utter adoration for him for the rest of your life, you wouldn’t be mad about it. 

Because no matter what Bucky thought of himself, there was no doubt in your mind that he deserved your love. 

[borathae]

Red Shirt | JJK x f.Reader

↳ Full Art

“Jungkook tries to sneak away after last night, unaware that you have been watching him all this time.”

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Morning After!AU, Magic!AU, Smut

Warnings: nudity, messy bodies after messy sex, Kook is a fucking flirt & tease, she takes pictures of him, allusions to: rough & passionate sex, pegging, breeding with fake cum, vaginal sex, creampies, marking & bruises, naked cuddling

Wordcount: 1k

a/n: patreon stresses me out so much omfg 😭 BUT here is another lil short story to one of my art ohohoh ❤ if you want to support me on patreon, i will love you forever (my dream is to one day only live off my art & writing jdsfjj)

“Come back to bed“, you say, sitting up to trail your boyfriend with your eyes as the latter hurries through the room.

“You know I want to, but I can’t”, Jungkook tells you and scans his eyes over the floor in search for his briefs.

He woke up earlier than you. The sun had barely passed the distant mountains and you hugged him to your chest when he did.

It is a regular thing that Jungkook wakes up in your arms as your little spoon. Jungkook doesn’t need to hold something as he sleeps, while you do. He doesn’t mind when you roll over in your sleep and pull him against your chest. He liked it this morning especially.

You were rough last night. Jungkook wanted you to. The wet, creamy reminder of it still oozed out of Jungkook as he sat up after waking up. It seeped deep into your rose-coloured satin sheets, joining all the other stains you and he painted last night. The once purple and pink marks on Jungkook’s body healed over night, but Jungkook still remembers all the spots they covered. It tingles when he brushes his fingers over them.

Jungkook liked waking up as your little spoon this morning. He liked feeling your bared, silken skin against his equally as bared skin. He liked the tickling swirls of breath dancing over the nape of his neck and he liked the sensation of your soft cunt against his ass. You and he didn’t clean up last night because you are both into feeling the sex on your skins the morning after, so Jungkook woke up to your messy cunt pressed against his sticky ass.

Jungkook liked it and he would have stayed in your arms if he didn’t have responsibilities today.

“Why can’t you stay? It’s too early to leave”, you bargain, missing his touch. The worst part about mornings with him, is when he has to leave and you have to make do with the solitude which once he filled. Just as you filled him last night. And then he did you. Fuck, last night was so messy and passionate.

Jungkook bends down to pick up his briefs, “I promised Yoongi to help with the Rippers. I can’t let him down”, he argues and straightens up. His torn apart briefs hang on his pointer finger in messy shreds.

You eye them and press your legs together. It smears the mess all over your thighs.

“Really?” Jungkook says with a chuckle on his lips, “couldn’t you have gone easy on them?”

“No.”

“You’re unbelievable”, Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “Ever since you learned how to use your magic to get stronger, you’re a maniac”, he says with fondness in his voice. He discards the torn briefs on the floor and snatches his jeans. He steps into them and pulls them up, stuffing his cock into them.

“So this is your best solution? No underwear?” you ask, lifting your right brow in question.

“I’m already late and running back to my wing takes too much time”, Jungkook says and turns to hurry to where you discarded his red button up. It was right after you pushed him into your bedroom and told him that you will have him arching his back later, which turned out to be true.

You drop into the sheets with a loud sigh, rubbing your hand over your own forehead.

“You aren’t making it easier for me when you leave like this.”

“I know. It’s not my preferred way either, but I’m late.”

“You know that I wasn’t speaking of uncomfortable pants”, you say as you laugh breathily.

Jungkook chuckles, “I’m aware.”

You sit up again. The sun is shining into your bedroom, illuminating your boyfriend’s fit stature temptingly well. Bright spots of lights cover his chest and parts of his sculpted abs, dark shadows blend into the colours and hide his tattoos in slight mystery. His jeans are still open enough to reveal his shaft and parts of his balls to your eyes. His dark hair hangs messily, matching in colour with his thick bush. You reach for your film camera and snap a picture as Jungkook is putting on his shirt.

The latter lifts his head at the sound of the shutter, watching you lower the camera again.

“For me”, you say, giving Jungkook a playful grin.

Jungkook lets out a fond scoff and closes his shirt, “you’re too obsessed with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are”, Jungkook says and stuffs the shirt into his tight jeans.

“Even if I was, is that a problem?”

“Yeah, a little”, Jungkook says, closing the buttons of his jeans.

“Why?” you laugh as you ask the question.

“Because…” Jungkook closes the distance between you and him. He takes your face between his fingers and tilts your head up.

You moan softly, looking up at Jungkook with slight submission in your adoring eyes.

Jungkook traces your lips, “…it makes me wanna act up”, he rasps and kisses you.

You mewl, pulling him closer by a bundle of his red shirt. You arch your back, parting your lips so Jungkook could claim what will always be his’.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t deepen the kiss, breaking it with a gentle bite to your lower lip. It tingles.

“Kook…please…” you sigh, chasing him with an arch of your back and your thighs rubbing together.

“It’ll get late today. Try not to think of me too much”, Jungkook whispers and brushes his thumb over your parted lips. Seconds later he is gone, leaving you with nothing but stained sheets, ripped briefs and the memory of how it was to be buried in his willing ass.

[00valentina-writes00]

I JUST REMEMBERED IT'S MY BIRTHDAY IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS (March first)

Can I get a hc or something about ambess on your birthday please?i LOVE YOUR AMBESSA

RAHHH ONE DAY LATE (but Ambessa AND Grayson)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY (late, but…I tried guys, and yes I’m braking hiatus to post this)

♡♥︎ Birthday with Ambessa and Grayson ♥︎♡

….i wrote drabbles for you!!!

♡ Ambessa ♡

It was your birthday, and you couldn’t have asked for a better celebration. Ambessa, in all her fiery elegance, had planned everything with precision—something she rarely let others see. It was one of the first things you learned about her: beneath the sharp exterior and the commanding presence, Ambessa had a soft side, a side she only revealed to a select few. You, being one of those few, got to experience it all today.

The day started early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, casting the world in soft shades of orange and pink. You’d been awoken by the sound of her voice, low and soothing, calling your name from the other side of the room. She stood in the doorway, a slight smirk playing on her lips as she held up a tray with your favorite breakfast on it: pancakes, fruit, and coffee.

“Happy birthday,” she said, her voice hushed but warm.

You smiled, sitting up in bed, your long curls tumbling over your shoulders as you stretched. Your fingers grazed the soft tray she placed in front of you.

“Ambessa… you didn’t have to do this,” you murmured, reaching for the coffee cup.

“I wanted to,” she replied, her eyes softening as she watched you take your first sip.

Ambessa never was one to do things without thinking them through. She always had a plan, whether it was strategizing in battle or crafting the perfect morning for you. As you ate, you could feel the weight of her gaze, always so intense, always so focused. But this time, it was different. This wasn’t the gaze of someone plotting or preparing for something—this was the gaze of someone who was simply enjoying your company, who wanted you to feel loved and cherished.

Once breakfast was finished, Ambessa stood, offering her hand. “There’s more. Come with me.”

Her grip was firm yet gentle, guiding you out of bed and toward the window. Outside, the city stretched before you, and the sunlight danced on the buildings. The air was crisp, a perfect spring morning. Ambessa’s plan was clear now: she had made sure this day would feel like a celebration from the start.

Your hair was still a little messy, curls not fully tamed yet, but Ambessa didn’t mind. She never minded how you looked. To her, you were beautiful no matter the state you were in. You chuckled softly as she adjusted a loose curl that had fallen over your eyes, her fingers brushing gently against your temple.

“You’re always so meticulous,” you teased.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” she smirked, her voice playful.

The day unfolded in the most charming way. Ambessa took you to a small, intimate café that overlooked the city, the two of you seated at a corner table with a clear view of the streets below. She didn’t need to do anything extravagant—no large crowds, no loud music—just the two of you, enjoying each other’s presence. You had noticed, after all this time, how Ambessa never cared for the flashy displays of wealth or power that others might expect from someone of her status. What mattered to her, in these moments, was the quiet comfort of being with you.

Later, after the café, she whisked you away to a small garden tucked away behind the café. It was quiet, peaceful. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the air smelled of blooming flowers. Ambessa had arranged for a small picnic in the garden, complete with candles that flickered softly in the dimming light. You sat together on a blanket, the world quiet around you. There was no rush, no pressure, just the calm of the evening settling in.

As you sat, Ambessa leaned back, her arm casually draped over your shoulders. She smelled faintly of sandalwood and something sweet, a scent that was uniquely hers. You couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through your chest as you settled into her side. It was simple—just the two of you, the stars beginning to dot the sky—but it felt like everything. You could hear the distant hum of the city, but here, in this moment, it felt far away. It was just you and Ambessa, and that was enough.

She took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against your hair. “You know,” she started, her voice low, “when I first met you, I never thought I’d find someone who made everything feel… softer. Everything was always about control, about power, about winning. But you… you make me want to just stop, breathe, and enjoy the simple things.”

You looked up at her, your heart swelling at her words. “Ambessa… you’re making me blush.”

“Good.” She smirked, her fingers gently tugging at a loose curl that fell over your shoulder. “You deserve to feel special today.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, your curls falling around you like a soft curtain. The warmth of her body next to yours was comforting, and you could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong, beneath the fabric of her clothes. It felt like everything had slowed down, the world fading into the background as you simply existed together.

Later, she presented you with a small, carefully wrapped gift. The box was delicate, the wrapping paper pristine. “I thought this might suit you,” she said, her voice a little quieter now, more serious.

You carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a beautiful necklace—simple, with a small pendant in the shape of a crescent moon. You gasped.

“It’s beautiful… Ambessa, I love it,” you said, your eyes wide. “Thank you.”

Her eyes softened as she watched you. “I wanted something to remind you that no matter what happens, I’m always with you. You’re never alone, not with me.”

You smiled up at her, your eyes sparkling in the dimming light. “I don’t think I could ever be lonely when you’re around.”

She chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “Good. That’s how I like it.”

As the night drew on, the two of you stayed in the garden, talking and laughing, sharing stories, and simply enjoying the time you had together. It was everything you had wanted—no grand gestures, no overwhelming celebrations—just a quiet, intimate birthday spent with the woman who made you feel truly seen and cherished.

When the time came to leave, Ambessa stood and offered her hand to you once more. “Shall we go home?” she asked.

You nodded, taking her hand. As you walked back to her private quarters, you couldn’t help but feel content—like this moment, this day, had been perfect.

Ambessa, ever the fierce protector, had found a way to soften her edges just for you. And in return, you had found someone who would never let you go.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered as you reached the door.

You smiled, brushing a stray curl out of your face. “Thank you, Ambessa. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make sure every one is just as good”.

♡ Grayson ♡

Grayson stood in the kitchen, a faint smile playing on her lips as she glanced at the clock. The evening was approaching, and she had spent the entire afternoon preparing for tonight—your birthday. She knew better than anyone that you didn’t need grand gestures or elaborate plans; what mattered was the thought behind it all, and she wanted to give you something truly special.

She had picked out your favorite cake—vanilla with strawberry frosting—and set it on the table, carefully decorated with candles that she’d lit only moments before. The living room was dimly lit, soft string lights twinkling above, casting a cozy glow throughout the room. A movie had already been queued up on the projector, one of those comfort films you both enjoyed watching on lazy nights.

You weren’t home yet, but Grayson had made sure everything was perfect. She wanted tonight to feel intimate—just the two of you, no distractions, no stress.

When the door finally opened, her heart skipped a beat. You stood there, a little tired from the day but smiling nonetheless. Your long hair was a bit messy, and your eyes lit up when they landed on her, the warmth in your gaze making her chest tighten with affection.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Grayson said softly, walking over to you. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. You smelled like your favorite perfume, and for a moment, Grayson just stood there, holding you. She felt the quiet comfort of being home with you, the weight of her armor and responsibilities falling away. This was her sanctuary—being with you.

You pulled back slightly, giving her a playful look. “What’s all this?” you asked, motioning toward the setup in the living room.

“It’s a surprise,” Grayson replied, her voice filled with affection. “I know you don’t like big celebrations, so I thought we could have a quiet night together.”

Her fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, and you smiled softly, your heart fluttering at the way she always knew exactly what you needed.

You followed her into the living room, where the atmosphere was serene, just as you liked it. Grayson poured you both a glass of wine, handing you one as you settled on the couch, the flickering light from the projector casting shadows around the room. The film was one you both loved—one of those nostalgic, feel-good movies that always made you laugh.

For a moment, you both just watched in comfortable silence, sipping wine and laughing at the movie’s silly moments. Grayson kept glancing over at you, her eyes softening every time they landed on your face. You were her world, and the joy of seeing you so content on your birthday made her heart swell.

After a while, Grayson turned to you, her voice quieter now. “I have something for you.”

You looked at her, surprised. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Grayson.”

“I wanted to,” she said, smiling with that gentle warmth you adored. She stood and walked over to the small table she’d set up, picking up a small, elegantly wrapped gift. She handed it to you, her hands lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unwrapped the gift. Inside was a delicate necklace—a simple gold chain with a small, heart-shaped pendant. The heart was etched with intricate designs, a subtle nod to the mark of a protector that Grayson had earned over the years.

“Grayson, it’s beautiful,” you whispered, running your fingers over the pendant.

She sat beside you again, her gaze soft and earnest. “I thought it would be something you could wear always. Something to remind you that no matter where I am, I’m with you. Always.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. You leaned over and kissed her, gentle but full of love. “I love it,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

Grayson smiled, her hand reaching up to gently wipe a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re everything to me.”

After a moment, Grayson gestured toward the cake sitting on the table. “Now, how about we cut the cake?” she asked, her voice teasing, though there was a warmth in it.

You nodded eagerly. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Grayson stood, and with a playful flourish, she cut the first slice and handed it to you. You both laughed as you dug into the cake, savoring the sweetness and the fact that you were able to enjoy such simple, beautiful moments together.

As the night went on, you watched the movie, ate the cake, drank the wine, and simply enjoyed the quiet rhythm of being with each other. There were no grand speeches, no huge surprises—just love, shared in the most perfect, effortless way.

Grayson eventually turned to you, her voice soft but sure. “Happy birthday, my heart. I’m so grateful for you.”

You smiled at her, feeling the weight of her words in the depth of her eyes. “And I’m grateful for you. Every day.”

With that, you snuggled into her side, and she wrapped her arm around you, holding you close. The rest of the world fell away, and all that mattered was this—this moment, this love.

As the movie ended and the night stretched on, Grayson kissed the top of your head, her hand brushing through your hair. She had given you everything she had—her time, her love, and her heart—and it was more than enough.

It was perfect.

[lavandulawrites]

Nirvana

Yandere!Loser x reader

Minors And Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact

Repost

I finally got around and wrote something for my favourite loser, it has been a long time since last time. I hope you like this pathetic Nirvana-loving man as much as I do<3

Masterlist

Adrian’s (Yandere Loser) Character Profile

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, original character, public masturabation, obsession, implied stalking, lovesick behaviour, delusional behaviour

Word count: 960

His black jacket was zipped up all the way as a way to keep the biting cold winter air out. His wired air-buds were playing Smells Like Teen Spirit. His pale hands were shoved inside his pocket were his left hand toyed with the receipt he had found at your desk. His late night activity (he had jacked off outside of your apartment complex to the silhouette of you in your bedroom window) had stolen his sleep, but he hadn’t minded the night before. However now as the sleeplessness hit him like a drunk driven truck, he started regretting only getting two hours of sleep. Adrian turned up the volume with the button of the wire. And as usual, the raw sound of Kurt Cobain’s voice calmed his nerves.

The bus stopped in front of the shabby bus-stop. Its breaks letting out a shrilling sound. The black haired man sighed in relief as he entered the empty bus. The metal piercings had made his ears numb, and the warmth of the bus was pleasant. He ventured as far back as he could without sitting at the row of back seats in the back, as those often were filled with annoying middle school teens. Despite Adrian’s social awkwardness, the teens never dared to mess with him given his dark clothing and cold stares, but that didn’t stop him from hating them. He slumped back in his seat as he leaned his head against the icy window. The outside blurred together in a mass of white and grey colours as the bus driver drove way over the given speed limit.

The minutes pasted and after the seventh Nirvana song, the bus came to an halt. Its doors swung open and the gloomy man’s humour soured. Please don’t be any of those annoying teens he thought bitterly. Then the sky cleared and in stepped the source of his joy. You were alone and dressed rather casually, but to Adrian you looked like an otherworldly being. He shrunk in his seat as if getting spotted by you would be utterly embarrassing. To his surprise you took a seat by the window two rows in front of him. He cowered his mouth with his hand has he let out a surprised yelp. He ripped out his air-buds as he was afraid he would miss even the tiniest sound from you.

To his joy, you two were the only passengers on the bus. He could see your reflection in the window if he leaned against it with a slightly strained neck. His heart was beating like crazy and he thought he would die from heart attack right then and there. The longer he watched you scroll on your phone with air-buds plugged in your ears, the more he could feel the strain in his loose black jeans. He wanted to roll his eyes at his pitiful state, but he couldn’t help to get bricked up in your proximity.

You were so incredibly beautiful after all, so his reaction was only natural. After making sure you or anyone else couldn’t see it (thank god the bus didn’t have any surveillance cameras) he pulled out his open jacket so that it worked as a little cover. He quietly unzipped his jeans and pulled his dark blue down. He blew in his hand before he gripped his achingly hard dick. His pale dick was flushed an angrily pink and pre-cum was already leaking from the rip. He had to use his hand that was closed to the window, his left hand, despite being right handed due to the jacket that worked like a cover.

Adrian spat in his hand before he worked it up and down the shaft in a slow motion. He needed to be careful so you didn’t notice anything. His grey-blue eyes found your reflection as he watched you with a lidded gaze. He let out a shaky breath as his thumb stroke over his swollen tip. He worked his hand a little faster and pleasure shrouded through him. He threw his head back and bit his lip harshly, to quite any of his whimpers.

You were putting on chapstick on your beautiful lips in a careful manner, which resulting Adrian to almost drool. God he wished it was your lips that were wrapped around his dick instead of his hand. He tightened his grip and picked up the pace. Pale was coated in pre-cum as he continued to jack off. The vein alongside his cock was strained and he was close. So close that he couldn’t help the low whimpers that escaped his lips. With a hasty motion he pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket with his right hand. His breathing was rapid and the warm feeling deep within his gut spread like lightning through his veins. With his gaze strained to your form, he came so hard he saw white stars. Warm cum pumped out from his dick and onto the handkerchief. He slumped forward with his forehead resting against the seat in front of him.

He breathed heavily for a while, before he shoved his dick back into his underwear. He carefully pulled up the zipper with one hand as he stuffed the used handkerchief into his pant pocket. After whipping his hands on a new tissue, he ran his hand through his black soft hair.

He watched you exit the bus at the bus stop by your work. Blue eyes followed you to the door of the worn little coffee shop. He put in his air-buds again and clicked play on the same song he had saw you listing to. You would be his. It wouldn’t be long now. Nothing could ever keep you from him. You were destined to be.

[bluemantics]

When he looks in the mirror, sometimes Keith searches for Shiro. He tilts his head, eyes tracing his nose, his hair, wondering if blinking hard enough will change things. It never does. 

Keith knows it’s stupid— Shiro isn’t actually his brother. It’s just difficult for him to watch that empty seat in the dining room, hard for him to hear the deafening gaps in conversation Shiro would fill. 

So he looks, and he tries. When Allura approaches him to strategize, his mind races to Shiro’s normal responses. If Pidge seems to work harder than normal, he lectures her, ignoring her muttered “isn’t that rich, from you.” Hunk cooks and Keith remarks on how delicious it tastes, thanks him for feeding the team. All of this leads to stares. 

Nothing is seamless anymore, not even waking up. He has to walk by Shiro’s room every day. One time, he stepped foot inside, and left immediately after. Shiro’s walls closed in and suffocated him, pressured him. It still feels wrong to be occupying any space where his echoes ring out. 

Black is no different. She reminds him that she knows, she knows he is not Shiro, tries to comfort him with soothing pulses. Yet all he can see when he looks through her eyes is someone who is smaller, angrier, and vulnerable. He can’t get comfortable in his seat. Keith never envisioned himself at the helm of anything, much less the team designed to save the whole universe. When he’s alone, and thinks of it too much, a gap between his ribs aches. 

This team might be destined to save the universe, but Keith Kogane was never destined to lead it. 

The worst times are when he forgets. He lets himself feel eased, laughs with the team like it’s natural, issues orders without deliberation or second guessing. In those instances, guilt weighs on him like a thundercloud. How could he have felt so familiar in someone else’s role? Keith quickly retreats, reminds himself of his place. Not the helm; he’s the stand-in. 

All this self-loathing would be so much easier if it weren’t for Lance, badgering him constantly. Day in and day out, his new “right hand” constantly pushes him. 

“Join us for dinner or I won’t participate in tomorrow’s training exercises.”

“Team movie night! Your turn to choose.”

“Are you sure that’s the right plan? I’ve been thinking—“

It’s fucking annoying when he’s thinking, but it’s all Lance seems to do. He offers up opinions constantly without being asked, shows up to meetings between Keith and Allura, knocks on his door after difficult missions. Keith can’t remember doing any of this when he was supposedly Shiro’s right hand. 

“Why are you always on my tail, Lance?” Keith demands after a particular comment. 

“Because you need it.”

Lance has a new confidence when he speaks, a bravado that doesn’t need flowery words. His voice is sure. 

Keith knows he’s right. Part of him secretly relishes Lance’s feedback, uses his presence as a crutch. Another part of him is ashamed to rely on anyone at all. Shiro stood tall as a lone watchdog over them and barely needed help from anyone, much less the mess that was Keith. It makes him doubt his older brother’s judgement in choosing him for Black. 

He’s exhausted from questioning himself, his brother, his teammates. At night, he tosses and turns, and every time he tries to train, Lance stops him—or worse—joins him. Keith has a looser grip on his sword and his words at night. Control slipping, he worries he will say the wrong thing as Lance takes him down with newfound skill that only time and practice bring. 

“Since when did you get good at this?” Keith heaves from the ground, chest rising and falling quickly. Lance stands over him, smiling widely with pride. 

“Since you needed a new sparring partner.”

Keith notices Lance doing this a lot lately, anticipating everyone’s needs. Suddenly, Lance wraps Pidge in blankets, tells Hunk not to worry about a broken gadget, and comforts the Alteans by listening to their stories. 

With a pang, Keith realizes something: Lance is a better leader. The whole team probably knows it by now. Effortlessly, Lance fills new shoes without so much as a complaint, while Keith flounders trying to shove his square-shaped self into a circular opening. 

When Shiro comes back, Keith doesn’t even register the differences between This Shiro and His Shiro. He grew up with nothing, so he isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, he did what he’d been itching to do since he first stepped in Black. 

Keith ran away.

When he’s alone in his quarters at the Blade, he looks in mirrors. He searches for traces of Lance and sees none. Hands cold and stiff, he covers the looking glass with a sheet, unwilling to stare back at an unworthy face.

[delight-angelsbliss]

Hiii!!! Your ADHD post was perfect, thank you so much! I have the inattentive type as well, but I got really good at masking it/forcing myself to focus in some school classes lol (that is, if I had some sliver of interest in that class haha) I have another one, if it's ok :3

Could you maybe do shadow and sonic with a reader that is just absolutely terrible at getting proper sleep (4-3 hours 😭) who usually just can't sleep or is up doing something? Maybe hyper focused on a task? The amount of caffeine I have to consume in the morning is probably unhealthy 💀

Hope things are going great for you!

Precis: Shadow + sonic with an insomniac!Reader

Warning: side effects of no sleep and too much caffeine, no fender specified

Notes: I remember as a child (5) I would always stay awake longer to practice for ballet that I've been doing since I was 3 but I was taken out of gymnastics and ballet cuz of health issues:(( I love this blinkie too much please never leave me. I keep thinking of my step sisters and I can't stop crying knowing my dad is probably doing something to them the same way he did to me and it's eating at my heart tbh I could barely focus on writing

Sonic

We all know Sonic has massive amounts of energy, seemingly never running out of it. He isn't really a night owl type of guy, nor does he ever want to be, but when he met you, that changed. You were the complete opposite of him, always tired, staying up late, always drinking coffee etc. He didn't mind at first, but your unhealthy habits scared him greatly; you crashing out in the middle of the day was the thing that scared him the most, the way your energy turned down so fast was enough to get Sonic on the internet to try and fine some kind of help for you. He knew there were many healthy ways to get you to follow a routine. Sonic tried giving you melatonin, it worked for a few months, but it strung you out fast and you needed more to be able to sleep properly, he tried getting you some tea, but those smelled and tasted to bad you'd puke it all up.

It felt hopeless, but he didn't wanna give up helping you. You meant too much to him, you were such a nice person, yet you had the worst problems. He didn't understand it, but that didn't stop him from helping you. "Hey! [Name], let's go for a race! Whoever loses has to buy us a chili dog" he'd try to tire you out, cut your screen time and do as much as he possibly can to help you sleep. It broke sonics heart to see you so tired and strung out all day, he doesn't want to intrude too much, but he'd do anything to see you in a happy state. Besides all the chaos, Sonic doesn't mind your attitude much. He finds it kind of funny when he sees you almost falling asleep on your desk while studying.

Overall, Sonic doesn't mind it too much but he still worries daily about you, about your health. No matter what, he'll stay by your side though. He finds it fun to stay with you during the day, your calm demeanor (maybe a side effect) is like a refreshment for him, but the sudden mood swings and headaches you complain about will always bring his worry back to bloom all over again

Shadow

Shadow is also a night owl! The sun is too blinding for his brooding behavior, he'd rather watch it fall and the moon come up to greet his cold demeanor once more. He's the ultimate lifeform so he doesn't need sleep that bad, but since you're a mortal you obviously need sleep. He finds this out a few weeks into your relationship (platonic or romantic) Since he's so stubborn, he gives you an ultimatum: "It's either you sleep or you sleep on the couch" that worked for a day or two, but your bad sleeping habits, caffeine addiction, etc. Would always lull you back into staying awake doing whatever you wanted, it was your alone time. He wouldn't take that away, Shadow understands what it's like wanting to have some alone time... But he still knew how harmful this was for you

Shadow started switching your coffee with decaffeinated alternatives. The first few nights were the most rough, your body was still getting used to and adjusting to this new schedule, which helped greatly! Instead of trying to use medicines or tiring you out, Shadow tries discrete methods and ways to get you to practice better habits. Shadow knows he might not be the best for this, but he will still try and help you nonetheless. Shadow does know that you don't exactly enjoy all of this frustration from your lack of sleep, but he's baffled to know that you don't actively try to find some solutions, he doesn't mean it in a bad way... At the same time it feels like he does get angry, not at you, but your lack of motivation to help yourself. The way you continually have to go take naps just not to pass out

Shadow doesn't believe in naps, he sees them as the average way to ruin your sleep schedule. When he sees how many small naps you take just to function, it makes him worried knowing you're so tired all the time. He sees the way you strain yourself everyday, every passing second of the day. Shadow tries his best to help you, he really does. Shadow isn't the best at communication, so he doesn't see that as an option. That won't stop him from helping a loved one, Shadow isn't a very open person, but his past trauma makes his overbearing nature show easily. If overbearing helps you sleep easy, he'll stay that way

[majoryeager104]

Okay so I’m a huge Touya (and Keigo but this isn’t about him rn) fan and I’m delusional about him. There’s this scenario I’ve been thinking about a lot and like I NEED someone to write it before I lose it. Reader helping Touya redo his staples after he asks. And like, after they do the new staple, kissing it?? I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS WEIRD OR NOT ITS JUST BEEN WHAT IM THINKING ABOUT AND IF I CANT READ THIS SOON I WILL EXPLODE also I just found your page and omg I love it all sm <3

GAWSHHHHHH I NEED THIS TOO WHAT UR A GENIUS <3 AND IM SO GLAD U LIKE MY PAGE HEHEHEHEH X3

warning: blood and language obv

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

Touya had come back late again, the door of your apartment clicking open sometime after midnight. You’d heard him, but didn’t expect him to make much noise, that is until he nudged you awake.

“hey babe, ‘m sorry but can you help me out? I’m kind of having a situation here”

his gruff voice pierced through your sleepy mind and you blinked a few times, but nodded, sitting up. Your room was dark, and so you couldn’t exactly see this ‘situation’, at least not until he’d gently pulled you by your hand into the bathroom where he flicked on the light, and lo and behold, his mouth was practically hanging open, blood trickling down his scarred cheeks, staples long gone and ripped out.

Now you were wide awake, gasping in shock. All he did was give you a sheepish smile as he held his jaw shut with his free hand. With his damaged his face already was, it was a miracle that his masseter was still in tact enough for him to move his mouth to speak, but he wouldn’t dare risk making it worse. He pulled his hand from yours to grab the stapler on the edge of the counter, waving it as he raised his eyebrows, silently asking for your assistance.

You sighed and nodded, grabbing some towels to clean up the blood, before sitting him down on the toilet seat as you knelt in front of him. You dabbed away the blood on his face, cleaning it with a towel you’d gotten wet before grabbing the cheap stapler he’d brought with him and holding it to his face. You looked worried, your brow creased as you looked at him. He merely shrugged, speaking up “it doesn’t hurt.”

Feeling a bit better about it after that, you began, flinching each time you pushed a staple in. It was more time consuming than you’d thought it would be, more than you’d wished, even, because you’d never expected to have to put staples on your boyfriends mouth, and yet here you were.

While you’d flinch, you also felt a certain tug in your stomach, as your eyes scanned over the staples. How many times has he had to do this by himself? Why did he have to do this? The more you thought of his situation, stapling his mouth was less of a disgusting or scary chore and more of a sad one. So much so that you didn’t even notice the prevalent furrow of your brow, or the sadness that had entered your gaze.

Touya, on the other hand, did. His blue eyes scanned yours, almost as if he knew what you were thinking. The only thing he’d told you about his old life was his name, but in moments like this he wished he’d said so much more, wished he could. Instead he just bit his tongue and let you finish putting him back together again.

But once you’d placed the last staple on his cheek, you did something he didn’t expect. You smeared away the excess blood on his face with the wet towel, and then placed a little kiss on the thin strip of metal now clasped firmly to his face. It was a simple gesture, really, but it was also so, so intimate, at least to Touya. You’d just seen him literally torn up, had to put staples through his face, and now you were kissing him.

The scars taking up the majority of his face certainly couldn’t hide the blush that crawled over his pale skin as you looked up at him afterwards, and offered him a smile. He felt so…vulnerable.

and he liked it.

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

SOMEONE SEDATE ME IM BLUSHING SO HARD RN OMG THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST I HOPE YOU KNOW ILL BE DREAMING ABOUT THIS LATER

[wlwsoccerfics]

Navigating Motherhood(GiuliaGwinnXMiedemaReader)

A/N: Hope you enjoy this cute little fic. Short but sweet.

Summary: you and your wife navigating life as Professional Football players and First time moms.

It has been two months since you and your wife Giulia became mothers. You have given birth to a beautiful Baby Girl named Florence 'Flo' Violet Gwinn-Miedema. You played for FC Bayern Munich, just like Giulia did.

Today was the first day you would get back into Training with the Team and of course the Girls had asked if you two could bring Baby Gwinn-Miedema with you. They wanted to see their little niece again.

Of course you agreed. You were quite happy to bring her along for the ride. In a few weeks you would take on Arsenal in the Champions League. Arsenal also happened to be the Club your Sister in law Beth played at. So you were excited to see her. Even though you wouldn't be playing in that game. Your sister Viv had just left after coming to munich for a few days to meet her Baby Niece and so you could see your nephew Gideon again. Your sister and your Sister-in-law had him two years ago. Viv gave birth to him.

It was a good thing you could always asked Beth and Viv for advice when it came to raising Florence. Cause your daughter and your nephew were close enough in age.

"Babe?" You hear your wife say. She was walking into the bathroom with Flo in her arms.

"yes liefje?" You asked.

"are you ready to go?" she wanted to know.

"i am! Just had to get my contacts in!" You informed Giulia.

When you were about to leave the house Flo started crying. You frowned softly. Knowing that she probably was hungry.

"someone is hungry!" You stated and gently took her from Giulia. Sitting down on the Couch with her.

"i will Text the group Chat that we will be a bit late to practice." Giulia said, kissing your head and then your daughters.

You gently stroked her tiny fingers while she was nursing.

"you are making mommies be late to work! Good thing you are so adorable so i will let it slide!" You told her with a soft smile on your face. Giulia laughed at your little joke.

"she really is the cutest." Giulia admitted.

"our daughter can't even talk yet, and still has us wrapped around her little fingers already!" You replied with a laugh escaping your lips.

After Flo finished nursing and got burped you changed her diaper before the three of you finally left for practice. Giulia was driving.

"are you okay, Love?" She asked you cause she could tell that you started to get nervous again.

"i am just nervous. It's the first time in almost a year that i will be Training with the Team again! And not do light Training!" You explained to her.

"you gonna do just fine Babe!" Giulia told you. "You already are Superwoman for staying active while growing a tiny human! Which by the way you didn't have to do. Cause carrying a Baby is work enough, but you still decided to have your own workout plan!" She added on. You appreciated how proud she was of you.

"thanks for saying that. also liefje, we need to work on our time management because you know i hate being late. Even when the reason why is our really adorable Baby Girl!" You told her.

You reached the FC Bayern Campus around 30 minutes after practice started. So you quickly got dressed and went out to the pitch. Giulia was carrying Florence in her Baby carrier. Needless to say that practice was on hold when you arrived cause everyone wanted to hold your daughter. You apologized for being late again and for crashing practice but no one seemed to mind.

"she is such a doll!" Lea told you. Looking at her with a smile while Tuva was holding her.

"thanks Lea, took 9 months to Cook her to perfection!" You said jokingly. All of your anxiety gone now. It felt good to be back and not just visiting.

You enjoyed practice. It was an amazing feeling. Only having two take a longer break to nurse Flo again. Other then that everything was just fine. You enjoyed every single Minute of practice.

When it was time to leave, Flo was asleep in her Baby carrier and Giulia was carrying her back to the Car. This time you were the one driving Home.

"how are you feeling?" Giulia wanted to know.

"honestly? Great but i think we have so much to learn and figure out. Making sure we are amazing parents cause this Is what our daughter deserves. And being great at our Job! Cause that's what our Team deserves." You said. "How are you feeling?" You wanted to know.

"good, i agree with you though! We have alot to learn and figure out, but we have eachother and so many people that can help is with it! We got this! Figuring out how to put our daughter and our in Order!" She answered. Good thing you really weren't alone and had a few people to always ask for help. and the two of you had eachother.

[phoenixiaxia]

Shopping Surprise

I'm like, a few months way too late, but I finally wrote a fic for @jinwoosbabyboo open fic night. I'm sorry it took so long, writer's block and IRL responsibilities had me by the neck.

BUT ANYWAYS! Have this.

Sylus x notMC!Reader, gn!reader written in mind, MC is named Em in this fic, implied Zayne x MC in the fic, possibly OOC, fluff, Zayne and reader are friends

Grocery shopping can be stressful on a normal day. But when you’re shopping for ingredients to surprise your boyfriend to a meal you grew up with, it’s downright mind-breaking. Especially since both Linkon and Bloomshore markets don’t have all the ingredients you need. When you vented your frustration to Zayne, he offered to drive you to a market an hour outside the city that should have everything you needed. Which brings you to now, standing over your shopping cart in the produce section.

“Onions… lemongrass… banana shoots… collection of mints and herbs… am I missing anything?”

Zayne places the bag of limes into the shopping cart, glancing over everything in the basket. “Unless you plan on giving him watery broth, I would recommend getting some beef bullion,” He gently intones.

“What, talking from experience, Mr. Ice man?”

Zayne lifts his head, a deadpan look on his face. The only indication of his amusement is a light quirk of his lips as he shakes his head. It’s no secret that Em is not the greatest cook. You still remember her “attempt” to cook live crab, or at least two separate retellings of the event from both Em and Zayne. It’s something you lord over her whenever you can.

Regardless, he is right. You quickly look over the list in your hand before handing it over to him. “Can you head to the butcher counter and get the meats on the list? I’ll head over to the spice aisle and grab stuff for the broth.”

Zyne nods, taking the list from your hand and walking towards the back of the market. At the same time, you push the cart, navigating the crowds towards the spice aisle. You stop in front of a shelf, looking through the bullion choices. Delightfully, they have choices for specific dishes, which makes your life easier. You find the ones for the soup you need, though the boxes are not close to the front. You reach up to try and grab one of the boxes, but a large hand reaches over you, grasping a few boxes and holding them in front of you.

You turn around, jumping slightly when you come face to face with a familiar set of ruby eyes. “Sy! What are you doing here?”

Sylus smirks, his trademark smirk still on his face. “I just happened to be in the area, sweetie. But I should be asking you that question. This is outside your normal territory, kitten.”

You can’t help the pout on your lips as you take the bouillon cubes from him. It’s practically confirmed that the surprise has been spoiled, but you try to at least keep up the illusion of a secret. “Well I needed groceries that I couldn’t get in the city.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at your reason. “Right. And that’s why you didn’t call me to drive you out here, but your doctor friend.”

As if on cue, Zayne steps up to the cart, placing a few bags of meat into the basket. He makes a point to stand at the front end of the cart, looking between you and Sylus. Lifting the list in his hand, he looks back and forth between the cart and the paper before coming to a decision.

“I assume my assistance is not needed anymore,” He places the list on top of the bags in the cart, ignoring your glare of betrayal. “I do have a few things I want to buy here, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

Without another word, Zayne heads towards the front of the market, ignoring your silent pleas for assistance. Sylus takes the moment to pick up the list from the cart, reading through the contents. A long pause settles between you two as his eyes scan the paper.

The silence finally breaks when he looks back at you. “Is this the soup that you’ve been telling me about?”

You let out a long sigh, finally accepting that you can’t keep this a surprise anymore. “Yes it is. I wanted to make this as a surprise for our next date. But clearly, I can’t even do that without your jealous ass getting his feathers ruffled.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at that, leaning down to gently poke your forehead. “I don’t get jealous, sweetie.” He still has a smirk on his face as he straightens up, but his eyes are softer as he looks at you. “But I do appreciate you trying to do something nice for me. Next time, just let me know when you want to do something. It’s already hard enough to convince you to use my card.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head before pushing your cart towards the checkout. You can hear him follow behind you. “Fine. I can’t do surprises around you. I’ll run all my surprise ideas through you for prior approval.”

He chuckles at your sarcasm, resting a hand on your waist as you both wait in line at the cashiers. “I’ll make sure to prioritize your requests before any other business I have to attend to.”

The payment for the groceries goes uneventful, with Sylus paying before you could even pull out your wallet. You make a point to ignore the cashier’s look of bewilderment as you both leave the supermarket. As he loads his car with your groceries, he pauses for a bit before turning to you.

“Make the chiffon cake as well.”

“Excuse me?”

“Luke and Kieran have been asking for your cake at the base. Make the chiffon cake as well.”

Epilogue

[heartz4levi]

Virgin luka and reader fic PLS PLS

late at night, baby, you're my sign !

☆ thinking abt virgin luka . .

☆ luka (alnst) ,, gn reader . . combined with anon's request : i love the way u write luka i NEED to ride him until he cries ,, sub!luka ,, dom!reader ,, luka is a virgin and also a pillow prince ,, handjobs (luka receiving) ,, riding ,, overstimulation ,, reader DOES ride luka until he cries and then some ,, luka is a sensitive and needy little pissbaby in this one (just how i like him).

luka's chest heaved up and down, heart hammering in his chest.

his eyes roamed over your figure and swallowed up every little detail he could find, looking utterly mesmerized as you present yourself to him.

thus far, you have been kind. laying him down onto the bedsheets, pressing gentle kisses to his pale skin whilst ridding him of his clothes. he momentarily pulled away from your lips, tone hushed and laced with a slight hint of nervousness as he told you that he doesn't have any experience. that is not a problem in the slightest for you, though.

and so, luka allowed himself to be taken care of. he didn't conceal the soft whimpers and mewls that would tumble past his lips in continuous strings as your hand worked itself on his body, fingers wrapped gingerly around his cock while your wrist moved up, then down. up, then down, repeating the motion until luka spilled bouts of transluscent cum onto his stomach.

surprisingly so, luka has been behaving well. he hasn't tried to rush you yet, hasn't sent any snarky remarks your way. instead he's been lightly squeezing your free hand, holding onto it for support so as to not lose himself in the pleasure you indulge him with. he has been keeping his gaze trained on you even through half—lidded eyes and even warned you when he was getting close to climaxing.

good behavior deserves to be rewarded. luka already came twice and you are starting to become a little antsy, as much as you enjoyed watching him come undone on your hand. his cock twitches once as you lean away, awaiting your next move in anticipation.

before luka even knows it, you're on top of him. your thighs are caging his hips and all of a sudden, he can feel your hand engulfing his dick once more. except this time, you're aligning it with your eager hole, eyes fixated on his features to watch how they contort. his brows knit together as he feels his tip prod at your puckering entrance and his lips part, allowing a gasp to slip right out when you push it in.

up until now, he only looked at you. never once did he tear his gaze away, but now he can't help but watch in awe as you take him in inch by inch. how you're so unaffected by the intrusion, but he can already feel his mind turning to mush. you're trying to take things slow and yet everything still is a little bit overwhelming for luka.

once bottomed out inside of you, luka's head snaps in your direction. a pleading look is present in his eyes, perfectly displaying how he hasn't felt this kind of pleasure before, and it does kind of scare him, but he really wants more. he trusts you — he trusts that you'll let him savor the sensation of being inside of you for a little longer.

slowly, your hips begin to rock back and forth. the action immediately pulls a moan out of luka, one that is just as angelic as all of the previous ones, but noticeably louder. his hands scramble, desperate to find purchase anywhere, desperate to ground himself before he cums way too early for his own liking. ultimately, luka has to settle with keeping a weak hold on your hips.

your pace quickens, and luka whines. the aftershocks that are the result of each sway your body makes are reducing luka to a mess. combined with the feeling of you clamping down on his cock, the sounds tumbling past your lips, the mere sight of you, on top of him—luka is going to lose his mind.

his eyes screw themselves shut, head leaning back against the pillows. his unruly, blond strands of hair are already starting to stick to his forehead and you can tell that he can't focus on anything else but you right now. not that you would rather have it any other way.

leaning down, you capture his lips in a kiss, one that is less delicate than the other ones you shared. it is more so passionate, fierce enough to catch luka's attention. all you needed was to have his eyes on you again, and you succeeded.

just as you were about to pull away, luka stops you. his arms wrap themselves around your neck and he yanks you down, connecting your chests once more. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, moaning and mewling repeatedly as you continue to ride him, hypnotizing him with every passing second and each roll of your pelvis against his.

luka holds you against him tightly, as if he's scared that you'll disappear into thin air if he dares to let go. he whines something into your ear, but all of it comes out as an incoherent jumble of words. frankly, you have no idea what he just said — you didn't have any time to try and decipher it or ask him to repeat himself either, because it isn't long before you can feel hot spurts of cum filling your insides up. like the well–mannered darling he is, luka told you that he was close, but you didn't catch it in time.

luka's embrace falters as he slowly rides out his high. it allows you to sit upright, his cock still nestled in your hole that is now leaking with his pearly beads of cum. you observe him for a moment, looking over his fucked—out expression and shaky body.

suddenly, luka yelps. he jolts, and soon his widened eyes settle themselves on you — you hardly gave him any time to come back to earth, deciding to resume those tantalizing sway of your hips before he managed to get over his electrifying orgasm. truthfully, he hasn't even realized that you have yet to cum, that he gave in to the oncoming wave of bliss before you did.

regardless of whether or not it was your plan to do this to luka, he is now overstimulated. his moans have increased tenfold in terms of volumes and he's babbling non—stop, asking you to "sl—oh—slow down, ngh—please!" or to "hngh! g—give me a mi—hah—a minute!". do you slow down or give him a minute? no.

luka doesn't have the strength to stop you, but he doesn't really want you to stop either. yes, he can feel himself going dumb because you're fucking him so good and yes, the pleasure coursing through his body is a little bit painful. but it hurts so good.

tears begin to prick at the corners of luka's eyes and his throat starts feeling hoarse. you're ruining him, and it was so easy to achieve that. it makes you wonder about what will happen if you chase your own high, and then toy with him like this some more.

[bitchinbarzal]

Enough | L Draisaitl

It starts with a tension you can’t quite place. A weight in the air, thick and stifling, pressing against your chest every time Leon looks at you like he’s thinking something but doesn’t say it.

At first, you chalk it up to exhaustion. The Oilers have been on a grueling stretch of games, and you know how much it takes out of him, both physically and mentally. But then, it doesn’t stop. If anything, it gets worse.

He’s distant. He doesn’t reach for your hand like he usually does, doesn’t pull you into his side when you’re sitting on the couch together. The kisses he presses to your forehead in passing lack the warmth they used to hold, and he keeps looking at you like he’s trying to find an answer to a question you don’t even know has been asked.

You try to ignore it. Maybe it’s just stress, maybe it’s something else on his mind. But then, he says it.

And your world tilts.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the thick air between you like a knife. “I get it now.”

You stare at him, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Leon lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I finally see it. You’re here for the money, the name, the—whatever else comes with being with me.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in. When they do, you feel like you’ve been slapped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He’s pacing now, like he can’t even stand still. “Everyone’s been telling me, but I didn’t want to believe it. Thought I knew better. But they’re right, aren’t they? You’re using me.”

You take a step back, suddenly feeling like you don’t even recognize the man in front of you. The man who, up until now, you thought loved you. Trusted you.

Your voice is eerily calm when you speak. “Who the fuck has been in your ear, Leon?”

He scoffs. “Does it matter? It’s not like they’re wrong.”

You inhale sharply, pressing your lips together as you shake your head. “That’s the thing, though. They are wrong. And the fact that you’re even saying this to me right now—” You cut yourself off, because suddenly, there’s a lump in your throat, thick and heavy. “I can’t believe you actually think that about me.”

“I don’t—” He stops, exhaling sharply as his jaw tightens. “I don’t want to. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, look at my life. Look at your life. You—”

“Stop.” Your voice wavers, but you don’t back down. “Leon, if you really think I’m here because of your bank account or your name—if you think any of that has ever mattered to me—then you don’t know me at all.”

He swallows hard, his hands clenching at his sides, and for a second, he looks like he wants to take it back. Like he regrets it already. But it’s too late.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “You think I need your money? That I want your fame?” Your voice is rising now, the hurt morphing into anger. “I have my own damn career, Leon. I make my own money. I pay my own bills. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

His brows furrow, and there’s something desperate in his eyes now. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“No, you did.” Your voice is firm, unwavering now. “You meant it. Maybe you regret saying it now that you see how fucking cruel it was, but you meant it when you said it.”

Leon flinches. He looks like he wants to argue, to tell you you’re wrong, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you, the weight of his own words crashing down on him.

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady yourself, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking. “I have never, never given you a reason to doubt me. To think I’m here for anything other than you. But you let them get in your head, and you believed them over me.”

Silence stretches between you. Heavy. Suffocating.

And then you say it—the thing that hurts more than anything else.

“If you really think so little of me, maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.”

Leon’s head snaps up, panic flashing across his face. “No—wait, I didn’t mean—”

You step back before he can reach for you. “Don’t. You don’t get to say that now.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s laced with finality. “You already did enough.”

Leon’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes clouded with regret, with something you can’t quite place. But you don’t wait for him to fix it. You just turn around and walk away.

And for the first time since you met him, he lets you.

He doesn’t call that night.

Or the next day.

You don’t expect him to, but you also don’t know what you’re supposed to do with the emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes him three days to show up at your door.

You don’t want to answer. You consider ignoring it altogether. But you know Leon well enough to know he won’t leave until you do.

So you open the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “What do you want?”

Leon looks like hell. His eyes are bloodshot, his jaw is tight, and there’s a desperation in the way he stares at you, like he knows he might have lost you already but needs to try anyway.

“I fucked up,” he says. No hesitation. No pretense. “I fucked up, and I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I need you to know—I didn’t mean it.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You keep saying that, but you still said it.”

Leon exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was stupid. I let other people get in my head instead of trusting you—us. And I know I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that.”

Your throat tightens, but you stay quiet.

Leon takes a step closer, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast. “I don’t care about money. I don’t care about fame. I care about you. You are the only thing that matters to me, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you let me.”

You inhale shakily, hating how much you want to believe him.

He notices. He always does.

“I love you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper now. “Not because of anything you have, or anything I have. Just you. Only you.”

For the first time in days, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. And you see it. The guilt. The love. The raw, unfiltered regret written all over his face.

You bite your lip, weighing your next words carefully. “You don’t get to do this again, Leon.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean it. You don’t get to doubt me like that. To doubt us. If we’re doing this, we do it together. No outside noise. Just you and me.”

Leon nods, not hesitating for even a second. “Just us.”

Silence lingers between you, softer this time. Not as heavy. Not as sharp.

You exhale, feeling yourself start to thaw, just a little. “I love you too, you idiot.”

The relief that floods his face nearly knocks you off your feet.

And when he finally pulls you into his arms, holding you like he never wants to let go—you let him.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Fool In Love — Jeon Wonwoo

✧ Love is a foolish thing ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out exactly why your boyfriend has been so distant lately.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Jeon Wonwoo 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 1k 🎥 Warnings: swearing, cheating 🎥 Notes: more angst! sorry but not sorry hehe 🙃 🎥 Shout out: as always, thanks to my lemon drop @nothoughtsjustfic for helping and keeping me sane 💜

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“Do you still love me?”

You watched as your boyfriend tore his eyes away from his phone, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“What? Of course I do. Why would you even ask me that?”

“I don’t know. You’ve just been so distant lately, always too busy to spend time with me or too tired to be intimate.” You threw up your hands. “Hell, we haven’t gone on a date in what feels like forever. It just made me start to question everything.”

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, putting his phone away before making his way over to where you were seated on the couch. 

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he assured you, wrapping a comforting arm around your frame. 

You nodded hesitantly, still not entirely convinced by his words. While you deeply loved your boyfriend of five years, you couldn’t deny that there was a disconnect between the two of you. Whereas just a year ago Wonwoo would have jumped at the opportunity to spend every waking moment with you, he barely looked at you nowadays. 

No more daily compliments, no more occasional presents, and certainly no more spontaneous dates.

You didn’t quite know what had caused it but you missed what you once had. More importantly, you missed the old Wonwoo. 

“How about we go somewhere for dinner tonight, just you and me? Like old times?” Wonwoo proposed, offering you a smile as he squeezed your arm. 

“I’d love that.” You smiled, a spark of hope settling in your stomach at the thought of rekindling your relationship. 

“Got any places in mind?”

“You remember that Italian place I’ve been wanting to go to?” Your eyes lit up in excitement. 

Wonwoo instantly dropped his smile at your suggestion, his eyes growing wide.

“No, not that one.”

You frowned, not understanding his sudden shift. “Why? We both love Italian food and I’ve heard great things about this place.”

“I’ve heard the food and staff are shit so I’m not willing to risk it, baby. Let’s just pick one we both love, hmm?”

“Wonwoo.”

“Y/N.”

You sighed in defeat. “You’re really not going to give in, are you?”

“Correct. Choose any other place.” He kissed your cheek. 

“Fine, I’ll find us another restaurant. But you’re paying.”

—

You’d been so excited for your upcoming date, carefully planning out your outfit and makeup, making sure to pick some of Wonwoo’s favorites in the hopes of ending the night with some long-awaited intimacy.

But all your hopes came crashing down when the two of you had sat down at the fancy restaurant. 

Wonwoo was distracted throughout the entirety of the dinner, practically glued to his phone which seemed to go off every few minutes. Bad thoughts were floating through your mind as you watched him try to contain his smile every time he glanced at the device, not for a second believing his excuse of being so excited to spend quality time with the love of his life. But you also didn’t want to assume the worst because it was Wonwoo after all, the man who’d promised with his entire heart that he’d never ever hurt you like that. 

And you wanted to believe that, you really needed to believe that. 

But as the days passed, the distance between you never lessened, only seeming to become bigger and bigger until you felt like you could no longer be comfortable in your skin around your boyfriend. 

That’s why you eventually sought out one of your dearest friends on one of those nights where Wonwoo had to work over hours at the office. You were planning to share your thoughts about your relationship with her over dinner, needing to have someone to confirm that you were not actually going crazy. You knew she would understand, having had her fair share of relationship struggles herself.

“You’re telling me he didn’t want to go here? For real?” Nayoung asked in disbelief as the two of you entered the high-class Italian restaurant, several staff members approaching you to take your coats and name of the reservation. 

“Don’t get me started. Something about bad service and food,” you mumbled softly so the staff wouldn’t overhear. 

Nayoung snorted as you began to follow the hostess through the restaurant. “Now that is some bullshit if I ever heard some. I’ve heard nothing but praise. It has one Michelin star for god’s sake.”

“He wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t going to push it. Anyway, I’m glad to experience it with someone who can appreciate it.” You put a smile on your face as you both sat down at your assigned table. 

“Of course, you know I’m never one to turn down a fancy d— oh fuck no.” 

Nayoung didn’t finish her sentence, her eyes focused on something behind you. It couldn’t be anything good judging by the displeased expression on her face. 

“What are you looking at?”

“No, wait!” She tried to reach for you but you’d already turned around, your eyes falling on a couple, the man having just leaned in to kiss the woman on the lips. 

Wait.

“Y/N.”

You couldn’t even hear her since your heart was beating all the way in your ears, drowning out everything around you as you watched the man pull away with a lovestruck look on his face. 

It was the look he used to give you. 

As if sensing someone was looking at him, he slowly turned his head, freezing on the spot as his dark brown orbs connected with yours.

He obviously didn’t expect to be caught here of all places. 

You didn’t waste time making a beeline for the exit, ignoring the desperate pleas coming out of his mouth as you tried to keep it together for just a bit longer. 

Everything suddenly made sense. 

The distance, the phone, the restaurant. 

You should have trusted your gut.

But you chose to believe him like the fool in love you were. 

🎥 Join the Set The Scene taglist: @wonuilu @choco-scoups @whoisbaek15 @vixensss @babycaratdeul

@whoa-jo @ateez-atiny380

If you wish to be added to the Set The Scene taglist, please fill out this form. We will only add those with age indicators in their bios to the taglist due to potential NSFW material within certain scenes.

[christopherisfoive]

Cold Burn (Chapter 4)

!idol reader x Seungmin; enemies to lovers

Word Count: (It literally won't let me move it from here lol)

Note: I wrote this super late last night and tried to edit my best but sorry if there are any mistakes, going back to drafting on docs because tumblr hates me. It has been a long week. Thank you for reading, I appreciate it <3 (it will eventually make sense i promise)

Masterlist

The city was alive with the midday rush, bustling streets and flashing signs lining every corner. It should’ve felt freeing after being cooped up in venues and hotels for the past few weeks, but even with the fresh air, I still felt off.

I adjusted my mask, letting my hood cast a shadow over my face as I followed behind my group.

It was supposed to be a day off.

But my mind was still playing back every mistake I’d made on stage during the tour.

I should have been enjoying this break. But instead, I was still holding onto every mistake, every moment that made me feel like I was losing control.

And then, like perfectly timed chaos, I heard it—the sound of cameras clicking.

Whispers turned into excited calls.

I instinctively pulled my hood lower, keeping my face neutral as the others started interacting.

A group of fans and paparazzi had spotted us, and before I could even process it, they were already approaching fast.

"Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids and Stellar!" one girl squealed, phone already out.

The energy shifted immediately.

Han, Hyunjin, and Leah engaged easily, smiling and waving. Bang Chan answered a few quick questions, even as security started stepping in to maintain a barrier.

Then came the actual questions.

"Y/N! Can you talk about your solo stage? People said it didn’t seem like your usual energy!"

"Is it true you don’t like performing live?"

"Are you okay? You seemed out of sync in the last show!"

I ignored them.

I always ignored them.

Instead, I kept walking, keeping my gaze forward, shoulders tense under my hoodie.

That was all it took to shift the crowd’s mood.

People started stepping in front of me, blocking my path, shoving phones and cameras in my direction.

The excitement turned to pushy persistence.

"Why won’t you say anything?"

"Y/N, just one word for your fans?"

I clenched my jaw and sidestepped them, but it was too late.

Someone moved in too close.

Before I could react, a fan—a girl, maybe late teens, wearing a hoodie with our group’s name on it—stepped right into my space.

"Why do you always ignore us?" Her voice was sharp, demanding.

I took a step back, my pulse spiking. Too close. Way too close.

She didn't stop. "Other idols talk to their fans. What’s your problem?"

Before I could respond—before I could even process how uncomfortable I felt—she lifted her phone closer to my face, snapping a photo at point-blank range.

I barely kept my composure, my breath hitching as I turned away sharply.

Security finally stepped in, blocking her as one of our managers started ushering us forward.

But the damage was already done.

I could already hear the murmurs.

"What’s wrong with her?"

"So rude."

"Seungmin would never act like that."

And of course—there he was.

I glanced up just in time to see him smiling effortlessly, answering questions, personally greeting every fan that came up to him.

Easy. Natural. Everything I wasn’t.

I could already feel his judgment from across the crowd.

To him, I probably looked like the worst kind of idol.

What he didn’t know was that I had my reasons.

And I wasn’t about to explain myself to him.

The second we finally got away from the crowd, I could feel the weight of the encounter still pressing on my chest. My steps were quick, my head down, but I could still hear the lingering whispers, the judgment heavy in the air.

I wasn’t sure if it was my own overthinking or if they were actually talking about me, but it didn’t matter.

The damage was already done.

As we turned the corner onto a quieter street, I felt someone fall into step beside me.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"You could at least pretend to care."

I exhaled sharply, barely sparing Seungmin a glance before looking ahead again. "Not in the mood, Seungmin."

"Oh, I know," he said, voice casual but laced with something sharp. "You’re never in the mood, right?"

I clenched my jaw. "Drop it."

But of course, he didn’t.

"Seriously, what’s your deal?" He scoffed. "You act like it’s such a burden to interact with people who support you. The rest of us can handle it just fine. Why is it so hard for you?"

That did it.

I stopped walking, turning to him with narrowed eyes. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. "Don’t I?"

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. "Not everything is as easy as you make it seem, Seungmin."

"No," he agreed, "but being decent to the people who made your career possible isn’t that hard."

The words hit me harder than I expected.

I had spent years learning how to brush off the criticism, how to let things roll off my back.

But for some reason, hearing it from him—someone who already thought the worst of me—made my blood boil.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You don’t get to judge me."

"Then give me a reason not to."

The challenge was clear in his expression, in the way he refused to look away first.

I had so much I wanted to say.

But I knew it wouldn’t matter.

Not yet.

So instead, I just exhaled sharply and turned away, continuing forward.

"That’s what I thought," Seungmin muttered behind me, before falling back into step with the others.

I didn’t look back.

But the anger sat heavy in my chest, burning quietly.

-

The hotel lobby was quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of staff moving around and the faint sound of music playing from the lounge area. Most of the others had already gone up to their rooms or found their own ways to unwind after the long day.

I had planned to do the same.

Instead, I found myself sitting in the corner of the lobby, scrolling through my phone, letting the harsh glow of the screen burn into my eyes.

I knew I should’ve put it away.

I knew I shouldn’t have been reading any of this.

But my fingers kept moving, my screen lighting up with headlines, forum posts, and brutal opinions dissecting everything about me.

"Y/N is proof that visuals matter more than talent in the industry."

"Best 4th Gen Dancer my ass."

"She’s not even the best in her group—why does she get so much attention?"

"I heard she got her spot because of connections, not skill. Makes sense why she’s so stiff on stage."

"You really think she made it this far just by ‘working hard’? LMAO, be serious."

My stomach twisted, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.

The accusations weren’t new—I had heard whispers like this for years. But somehow, seeing it laid out so blatantly, with thousands of likes and shares, made it feel heavier.

Worse.

Like no matter what I did, no matter how much effort I put in, there were still people who would never respect me.

I barely noticed when someone sat down in the chair across from me, but I did feel the weight of their stare.

"You still look at that stuff?"

I flinched slightly, my thumb freezing mid-scroll.

I glanced up to see Jeongin, leaning back in the chair across from me, arms crossed.

I quickly locked my phone, shoving it onto the table. "It’s nothing."

"Didn’t look like nothing."

His voice wasn’t accusing, just matter-of-fact.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Just people talking. Same as always."

Jeongin didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, watching me like he was waiting for me to be honest.

After a beat, he exhaled, shaking his head. "You know none of that’s real, right?"

I let out a small, dry laugh. "Yeah, sure."

Jeongin frowned, his usual playfulness gone. "Y/N."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, but my chest felt tight.

I didn’t want to talk about this. Not now.

So I shrugged. "It’s fine. Doesn’t matter."

Jeongin studied me for a second longer before pushing off the chair, leaning forward to grab my phone.

Without asking, he flipped it face-down on the table.

"Then stop looking."

His tone was soft but firm. A simple statement, not a suggestion.

I swallowed, my fingers twitching slightly.

Jeongin sighed, his expression less teasing than usual, more serious. "Don’t let them win, Y/N."

And with that, he stood up, walking off toward the elevators.

I sat there for a moment, staring at my phone, my reflection faint in the dark screen.

I should’ve let it go.

But the words were still burned into my mind.

And I wasn’t sure if I knew how.

-

The burn in my throat started a few nights ago. Subtle at first, just a scratch that I figured would go away with enough water and rest.

Except, there was no rest.

Not when we were on back-to-back schedules, traveling city to city, rehearsing between shows, barely enough time to breathe, let alone recover.

I pushed through like always.

Now, standing in the middle of the rehearsal room, sweat clinging to my skin, I felt off.

The usual ache from training felt heavier today, my limbs sluggish, my breath coming shorter than it should have.

I rolled my shoulders back, ignoring the way my vision blurred for half a second.

I was fine.

Across the room, Jeongin watched me.

I caught the way his brows furrowed slightly, the way his gaze lingered as I moved through the choreography.

I knew that look.

I ignored it.

"Let’s go again," Chan called out, already stepping forward to reset the formation.

I exhaled sharply, steadying my stance, locking my body into position as the music cued up again.

But the moment I took my first step, I felt it.

The slight dip in my balance, the way my head felt lighter than it should have.

I corrected it immediately, moving into the next beat as if nothing had happened.

But Jeongin saw.

And so did Seungmin.

I felt his gaze before I even turned his way, a glance quick enough to catch the way his expression flickered—something almost unreadable flashing across his face.

For once, he didn’t say anything.

I wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the room or my own body turning against me, but every time we restarted the routine, my chest felt tighter.

I took a deep breath, forcing air into my lungs, willing my body to cooperate.

I couldn’t stop now.

Not when I had spent the last few weeks feeling like I was slipping. Not when people were already questioning whether I deserved to be here.

I needed them to see me succeed.

So I kept going.

Even when my legs felt heavier than they should have.

Even when my head felt like it was filled with static.

Even when I knew—knew—I was moving on sheer willpower alone.

I felt the weight of Jeongin’s stare first.

He wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore—I could see him watching between reps, his usual easy-going expression replaced with something more cautious.

But he didn’t say anything.

Neither did Seungmin.

I caught his gaze in the mirror, just for a second.

He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly.

For once, there was no smirk. No sharp remarks.

Just quiet observation.

I ignored them both.

I had to.

The music started again, the pounding bass vibrating through my body, rattling in my chest.

I moved on instinct, letting my muscle memory carry me through—each step, each transition, each sharp hit of the beat.

But something was off.

I felt it before I saw it.

The moment my foot landed wrong, I knew. The angle was off, the weight uneven. My body moved a fraction of a second behind my mind, and suddenly—

I was out of sync.

Just for half a beat.

But in this world, half a beat was everything.

I immediately corrected, snapping into place, but the mistake had already happened. I could feel the eyes on me.

Someone spoke. "Y/N, what was that?"

I blinked, chest rising and falling faster than it should’ve been.

My mind scrambled for a response, but the words weren’t there.

I wasn’t fully there.

"I—" My voice sounded strange, distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Across from me, Ari’s gaze sharpened.

She saw it.

But she didn’t get the chance to say anything.

I sucked in a breath, forcing my posture straight, willing my body to hold itself together.

"Let’s go again," I said quickly, pretending nothing happened.

I needed to shake this off.

I needed them to see me succeed.

Even if my body had other plans.

The music thundered through the speakers, vibrating through the stage beneath my feet.

I kept moving. Kept pushing.

Every step felt heavier, like my limbs were fighting against me. My skin was damp with sweat, but I felt cold.

It was getting harder to breathe.

The stage lights burned hot, casting everything in a hazy glow. The air felt thick, each inhale tighter than the last.

And then—

The misstep.

The dizziness.

The moment my body finally gave out beneath me.

The floor rushed toward me, the sharp gasp of someone nearby cutting through the ringing in my ears.

The music stopped.

Someone called my name.

I barely heard them before everything faded to black.

The moment my body hit the stage, everything exploded into chaos.

The music cut off instantly.

Footsteps—rushed, frantic—pounded against the stage floor as voices overlapped in panic.

"Y/N!"

"Someone get the staff!"

I felt hands on me—someone kneeling beside me, another hand brushing my hair back, the fabric of my sweat-soaked clothes sticking to my skin.

I was aware of it all, but everything felt distant. Like I was watching it happen from the outside, my limbs too heavy to respond.

"Is she breathing okay?" Ari’s voice was the sharpest, her usual calm cracked with pure fear.

"She’s burning up," Leah’s voice trembled. "We need to get her offstage—now."

Someone lifted me slightly, supporting my upper body. The movement made my stomach turn, a weak groan escaping before I could stop it.

"She’s conscious," Jeongin said quickly, relief barely masking the tension in his voice.

A shaky breath. My lips parted, but no words came out.

Through the haze, I caught a glimpse of Seungmin standing a few steps away.

Frozen.

For the first time since this tour started, he looked…unsure. His usual sharp eyes were wide, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

But I couldn’t focus on him.

Because my head was spinning, my skin was on fire, and the weight of every mistake, every moment I ignored my body’s warning signs, had finally come crashing down.

And now?

I wasn’t in control anymore.

The coolness of the backstage area barely helped with the heat radiating off my skin.

I felt cold and hot at the same time, my limbs too heavy, my breathing uneven.

Voices blurred together.

"Her temperature is high."

"She needs fluids—has she eaten today?"

"She’s completely burned out."

I tried to speak to tell them I was fine, but my throat felt raw. The most I could manage was a weak, halfhearted shake of my head.

"Don’t try to talk," Ari’s voice was there, close, softer than before. "They’re just checking your vitals."

I swallowed, eyes flickering open.

The faces above me were blurry, shifting in and out of focus. A few staff members kneeled beside me, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead, speaking in hushed tones.

Ari, Leah, Jeongin, and Lee Know were still there.

Lee Know stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the scene with an unreadable expression.

I tried to sit up, but the second I moved, my head spun.

A sharp inhale.

Lee Know was faster than Ari this time, pressing a hand to my shoulder and easily keeping me down.

"Not happening," he muttered. "Just rest, okay?"

Leah crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

I didn’t answer.

Because I knew the truth would only piss them off more.

Before I could gather enough strength to argue, the managers arrived.

Their voices were firm, no room for negotiation.

"She’s not performing tonight."

The words hit like a slap, and suddenly, the heaviness in my body wasn’t just from being sick.

I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the pounding in my head as I looked between them. "No. I can still do it."

"Y/N," Leah warned, eyes flashing with frustration.

But I wasn’t listening.

I turned to the managers again, pushing past the ache in my limbs. "I’ll be fine by showtime. I just need—"

"You just collapsed on stage," Ari cut in, arms crossed. "There’s no debate. You’re sitting this one out."

No.

No, no, no.

I had spent weeks proving myself, clawing my way through every performance, every mistake, every doubt.

I wasn’t losing my spot now.

"I can do this," I tried again, my voice hoarse. "I just—"

"Oh!" A voice interrupted, and I didn’t have to look to know who it belonged to.

Mira.

She strolled into view, faux concern plastered all over her face, hands clasped in front of her. "If she can’t go on, I can step in."

The air shifted.

For a split second, nobody spoke.

Then, one of the managers nodded. "That could work. You already know the choreo."

My stomach twisted violently.

Mira turned to me, her smile oh-so sweet, but her eyes telling an entirely different story.

"Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll take good care of your part."

I felt numb.

The room was still spinning, but the real sickness sat in my chest.

I should have fought back. I should have said something.

But the moment Mira tilted her head, smiling like she had won, everything inside me just… shut off.

I went blank.

Ari’s head snapped toward Mira, eyes narrowing. "You’re really volunteering that fast, huh?"

Mira turned to her, expression perfectly innocent. "What do you mean? Someone has to do it."

Ari’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t buy it. I could see the irritation tighten her jaw, the way her hands fisted at her sides.

She wasn’t the only one.

Lee Know, who had been mostly quiet until now, finally spoke.

"You sure you can handle it?" His voice was flat, unreadable, but there was something pointed underneath.

Mira smiled wider. "I mean, it’s not that complicated, right?"

Ari let out a sharp breath, like she was physically stopping herself from saying something she’d regret.

Lee Know just stared at Mira for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he turned to me.

"Y/N."

I blinked, but I couldn’t force words out.

What was I supposed to say?

Mira had already taken my spot.

Nothing I said would change it now.

So I just looked away.

-

The moment Mira stepped away from me, I could already hear her faking concern as she walked over to the others.

"Guys, change of plans," she said, voice just loud enough for me to hear from where I sat. "Y/N isn’t performing tonight, so I’ll be taking her place."

The reaction was immediate.

Kat’s face twisted in confusion. "Wait, what? Since when?"

Mira sighed dramatically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Since about five minutes ago," she said. "The managers agreed, and I already know the choreo, so it just makes sense."

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered toward me, his concern obvious. "And Y/N’s okay with this?"

Mira didn’t even hesitate. "Well, she didn’t argue."

Ari scoffed. "Yeah, because she’s half-conscious."

The room tensed.

Mira only shrugged, smiling just a little. "Either way, we should start getting ready."

Lee Know, who had been watching the whole thing in silence, finally spoke. "Just don’t mess it up." His tone was neutral, but his expression wasn’t.

Mira’s smile didn’t falter. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got this."

And with that, she turned away, ready to steal the show.

I barely registered the conversation.

I barely felt anything at all.

Because the second they all turned away, the second I was left sitting backstage, my chest tightened in a way I couldn’t control.

I blinked up at the ceiling, forcing back the burning in my throat.

I had lost my spot.

After everything I had fought for—**after every moment I forced myself to push through, to prove I was worth something—**I was still replaceable.

And the worst part?

Mira was making sure I knew it.

My hands curled into fists, nails pressing into my palms. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the feeling of failure from swallowing me whole.

I had fought so hard.

And it still wasn’t enough.

-

By the time the show started, I was watching from the wings, still too weak to stand on my own.

The lights hit the stage, the energy buzzing through the arena as Stellar performed without me.

And then, it happened.

Mira did my move.

Not just any move—my signature move. The one I had created, the one I had made my own.

The audience cheered like nothing was wrong.

Mira beamed.

And I?

I felt sick for a whole new reason.

The energy backstage was still buzzing, staff members congratulating each other, the usual post-show adrenaline filling the space.

But I wasn’t part of it.

I sat off to the side, still too weak to stand properly, watching as everyone came back from the stage.

And Mira?

She made a beeline toward me.

She tilted her head, still in full makeup and costume, wiping sweat off her brow like she had just saved the whole show.

And then she smiled.

"That was fun," she said sweetly. "I mean, I wouldn’t want to replace you permanently or anything, but… I did fit in pretty well, don’t you think?"

She let the words sink in, let them cut.

Then, with a final smirk, she turned and walked off.

And I sat there, feeling like I had lost everything.

I needed to get out of here.

The post-show energy, the voices, the flashing lights from the screens playing encore footage—it was too much.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the way my legs wobbled beneath me.

Leah and Ari noticed immediately, their heads snapping in my direction, but I didn’t give them time to stop me.

I kept my head down and moved, weaving past staff and dancers, making my way toward the private restroom backstage.

My hands were trembling by the time I pushed the door open.

The second it closed behind me, the weight I had been holding in collapsed all at once.

I braced myself against the sink, sucking in sharp, uneven breaths.

Everything hit me at once.

The exhaustion.

The humiliation.

The sharp, suffocating feeling of being replaced so easily.

A ragged breath tore from my throat, and I gripped the edges of the sink, my vision blurring as my chest heaved.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t—

A soft knock at the door made me freeze.

My stomach twisted.

For a second, I thought it was Leah or Ari coming to check on me.

But then—

"Y/N."

I went rigid.

Because that wasn’t Leah.

Or Ari.

Or anyone I would’ve expected.

It was Seungmin.

I gripped the sink harder, willing my breaths to even out, willing myself to stay silent.

Maybe if I didn’t answer, he’d take the hint and leave.

Seconds passed.

Then—

"I know you’re in there."

His voice was calm. Not sharp, not teasing—just even.

I clenched my jaw, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Red-rimmed eyes. Flushed skin. The complete opposite of the image I was supposed to keep up.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

Silence.

Maybe he’d take that as an answer.

Then he spoke again.

"So that’s it?" A slight shift in his tone, like he was testing the waters. "You’re just gonna sit in there and pretend nothing happened?"

My fingers twitched against the cool porcelain.

That’s exactly what I was going to do.

Pretend this wasn’t happening.

Pretend I wasn’t falling apart.

Another pause.

Then, softer this time—"You don’t have to pretend with me."

Something in my chest tensed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the sink even harder.

Why was he still standing there?

And more importantly—why did it sound like he actually meant that?

A long beat of silence stretched between us.

I refused to move. Refused to speak.

But Seungmin wasn’t leaving.

Instead, he let out a slow exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, less guarded.

"You know… I thought you were stronger than this."

Something in me flinched.

His tone wasn’t mocking, wasn’t sharp—just honest. And that somehow made it worse.

He shifted outside the door, and I could almost picture him standing there, arms crossed, debating what to say next.

"All this time, you’ve acted like nothing gets to you. Like you don’t care what people say." A pause. "But you do, don’t you?"

I sucked in a quiet breath, my grip on the sink tightening.

"You care too much."

Another pause.

Then—"That’s why you don’t fight back."

My stomach twisted.

Because I hated how close to the truth that was.

I stared down at my reflection on the floor, my own exhausted eyes staring back at me.

And still, I didn’t say a word.

Seungmin shifted again, like he was about to say more—then stopped himself.

A beat of silence.

Then, his voice dropped to almost a murmur.

"You know, you’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this."

I blinked.

My breath hitched just slightly, but I caught it before it could be heard.

I didn’t know what I was expecting him to say, but… not that.

Something in his voice was different now.

Less sharp.

Less detached.

More like he actually… understood.

I swallowed, my chest tightening with something I couldn’t place.

And yet—I still said nothing.

I heard him shift once more, but this time, he hesitated.

Then, after one last pause—I heard footsteps.

He was leaving.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something I wasn’t ready to face.

The room was quiet again.

No more footsteps.

No more words.

Just me.

I stayed where I was, back pressed against the cool tiles, knees pulled up to my chest.

My breathing had finally evened out, but my mind was far from calm.

Seungmin’s voice still echoed in my head.

"You know… I thought you were stronger than this."

"That’s why you don’t fight back."

"You care too much."

I wanted to ignore it. Pretend like none of this happened.

But I couldn’t.

Because somehow, for the first time since this tour started, Seungmin didn’t sound like my enemy.

And that thought alone terrified me.

I exhaled, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, just thinking.

Minutes passed—maybe longer.

Eventually, my legs felt steady enough to move.

I pushed myself up, straightened my hoodie, and finally unlocked the door.

The hallway was empty now.

No one waiting.

No one lingering.

And yet, as I stepped out, the weight of what just happened still clung to me.

The venue had mostly cleared out by now—staff moving equipment, dancers heading back to their dressing rooms, the energy finally settling after the chaos of the night.

Seungmin was off to the side, stretching out his shoulders, his expression unreadable.

Jeongin had been watching him for a while.

And he was done staying quiet.

He stepped up beside him, arms crossed. "I know what you’re doing."

Seungmin barely glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

Jeongin let out a sharp exhale through his nose, shaking his head. "You and Mira. You’ve been messing with her this whole time."

That got Seungmin’s attention.

His expression barely shifted, but Jeongin knew him too well to miss the way his jaw tensed.

Still, he played it cool. "You sound paranoid."

Jeongin huffed, not buying it for a second.

"You think I didn’t notice?" He tilted his head. "The mic feedback. The ‘accidental’ positioning mistakes. Mira shifting in formations just enough to throw Y/N off. You might think you're being slick, but I see it."

Seungmin’s hands curled into loose fists.

But Jeongin wasn’t finished.

"And tonight?" His voice lowered. "You let Mira take her spot. You watched her steal Y/N’s move. And you didn’t say a thing."

Seungmin’s eyes flickered, but he kept his face carefully blank.

Jeongin took a step closer. "Tell me this, hyung." His voice hardened. "At what point does it stop being funny?"

Silence.

For a moment, Seungmin didn’t respond.

Then—"It was never funny."

Jeongin’s brows furrowed. "Then why?"

Seungmin exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, but he didn’t answer.

Because maybe—for the first time since this started—he wasn’t sure anymore.

Why had he gone along with Mira’s games?

At first, it was easy. It was just harmless frustration, just a way to get under Y/N’s skin—because she annoyed him, right?

That’s what he told himself.

But now?

After seeing her collapse on stage, after watching her lose everything she worked for while Mira stole her place without hesitation?

It didn’t feel like a game anymore.

And suddenly, he wasn’t so sure who the real problem was.

Taglist: @victoriaaf @mirophobic @minhosprettywife @peskybirdysya @littlewolfieposts

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 8

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 7

Joel froze. He didn’t say anything back to Tommy. You were weirded out by the silence, so you turned around and gave Tommy a beaming smile yourself, asking him what you could get for him.

“Oh, I’m just here to get the coffee that changed my brother’s mind about fancy coffee. He seemed content with crappy coffee all his life until he had yours,” Tommy smirked at Joel, whose face had now turned bright red.

“Oh, you must be Sarah and Ellie’s Uncle Tommy! It’s nice to finally meet you! They talk about you all the time!” you held out your hand for him to shake, and he took it, kissing the tips of your fingers gently as he confirmed his identity. You didn’t see Joel’s jaw clench watching his brother easily flirt with you.

“Let me just get your order. You Millers must have an iron stomach! Six shots of espressos are no light feat!”

You turned around and immediately began preparing his order, completely unaware of the silent argument going on between the two siblings. Joel keyed in the price of an americano with the extra espresso shots, holding the reader out aggressively, stopping just before it hit the younger man squarely in the nose for him to pay.

“It’s okay, Joel, it’s on the house. Maybe he can wipe tables for a few hours,” you joked.

“Nah, he has places to be, he’s a busy guy, right Tommy?” Joel widened his eyes at his brother, though his stiff body posture visibly softened at your gentle tone.

“Actually, I could use a change of pace. Sure, I can wipe tables, you got a rag?” Tommy’s smirk widened as his brother’s face turned an oddly darker shade of beet. Joel tossed a rag to his face, signalling for him to move aside so he could serve the next customer.

“Best leave them to it,” Bill’s voice chimed in, “Not enough space in the truck for all of us,” he said, pulling a chair and sitting down himself, gesturing for Tommy to sit with him.

Tommy took a sip of the coffee you handed to him as soon as he sat down. He offered Bill a hand to shake, “Tommy, I’m Joel’s brother,” he said.

“I know who you are, I know who your brother is. Seen you on that show,” Bill grumbled. “You guys do a good job,” he said, “Been doing DIY all my life. You know what you’re talking about.”

“I hope so,” Tommy said, eyes watching Joel smile more than he ever had outside of his family time. “Learnt everything we know from our old man. Sure wish he was still around to see us, you know? We grew up lacking, he worked so hard for us, and I think our biggest regret, both mine and Joel’s, is that our parents didn’t live long enough to enjoy our success,” Tommy held his head down, fingers fiddling with the strap on his watch.

Bill nodded, eye softening a bit hearing Tommy talk about his late Papa.

The two chatted a bit, Bill learning how Tommy and Joel knew you, and Tommy learning a little bit about your family. The man was not as much of a grump as he seemed to be, Tommy found, actually reminded him of Joel a lot. It was clear how much Bill loved you, cared about you.

After a while, the two stopped chatting, eyes fixed on the truck, both you and Joel working seamlessly together. Tommy felt as if he was watching some sort of a TV show where the hero resembled his older brother, except this guy was smiling way too much.

“Is Lily seeing anyone?” he chanced a question at Bill.

Bill glared at him for a second, as if deciding if the question was intrusive, but ultimately deciding it wasn’t, seeing where the man was coming from. He had been wondering about this Joel guy since he appeared this morning, clocking his shy body language whenever you were near him. And as for you, there was something he saw in your smile when you saw him that morning. Being in the service industry, you had a smile at the ready, one you used for everyone, a generic smile you turned on effortlessly. But your real smile, you saved for a select few people in your life. The one you gave this Joel guy was definitely the second one. More so, in fact. Extremely genuine, but you didn’t hug the man or kiss him hello. You were usually very physical with people you deemed your friends. So the fact that you served this man your genuine smile, but refrained from touching him told him something.

“Who are you asking for?” Bill asked Tommy instead of answering.

Tommy laughed, “Just curious, is all,” he deflected, still watching his brother laugh with you in the truck, glancing at Bill, who was also watching the scene unfold. “Known that guy all my life, never seen him smile and laugh like that with anyone who is not his immediate family,” he told Bill, who raised an eyebrow at him.

The guy from the next truck came by, talked to you about something, and you beckoned to your uncle, who hurried over to see you. Joel came out, his own coffee cup in his hands, sitting down himself.

“You know, this is good coffee,” Tommy seemingly conceded, taking another sip from his cup. Joel nodded, couldn’t help himself from agreeing with his brother, eyes closing once more at the warm, bitter, sweet liquid warming his insides.

“But it’s strange,” Tommy continued, “It’s good, but I didn’t close my eyes as if my world was put right again after a sip. I’m wondering if it’s not the coffee… but the person who brewed it instead,” he finished, his eyes twinkling.

Joel’s head snapped around, checking if you heard Tommy’s accusation. But try as he might to retort, he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. He could feel his cheeks turn red as his younger brother’s grin got wider and wider.

“Oh man, I’m right, aren’t I?” he smacked his brother in the shoulder. “What are you waiting for? Ask her out!”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, Tommy. She’s the girls’ friend. I can’t risk ruining their friendships.”

“The way the girls kept talking about her at the cabin? I think they know. And what’s more, I know they approve.”

Joel hung his head, hands playing with his cup. He looked at the truck, seeing you and your uncle arrange the order that Tony’s brother put in. He had volunteered to help, but the order was urgent, so Bill would do a faster job, seeing as he was a lot more used to helping compared to him. The guy could actually use the machine and make fancy coffee with you.

“It’s not about that, Tommy. I’m not ready for that kind of thing. I don’t know if I even have it in me anymore. You want me to reel some unlucky lady into a relationship when I don’t know if I can do that? I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s just cruel.”

Tommy wanted to say more but decided not to. He didn’t want to push Joel into anything like this, knowing his aversion to having a romantic relationship. He had tried. Oh Lord, how he tried. But Joel was a stubborn man. And perhaps, his love for Laura was too great, maybe he was afraid of losing again. Tommy had no idea what it was like to lose a wife, to become a single dad at 22, heck, he didn’t even know Laura that well. He was in the army when Joel met Laura. He met her maybe five times, but it was clear to him that Joel was besotted with her. And when she died, it was as if his ability to love another woman, aside from their Mama and Sarah, and later Ellie, died with her. Joel refused to even talk about her. It hurt too much, perhaps. Maybe Laura was the great love in his life and he would spend his life mourning her. And everyone around him just had to make peace with that.

But then, what he saw this past week, and especially this morning, made him think there was hope yet for his brother. His girls definitely were hoping he would find someone. Both of them seemed to make their life plans around him, not wanting him to be alone. And what Ellie kept insisting happened over the two weeks before Sarah came home was not her imagination after all. He had only seen Joel with you for a little over an hour, and already, his big brother was the happy man he knew before his wife passed. More so, in fact. He seemed light, relaxed, happy.

His Mama used to voice her worries for Joel before she passed. Joel was quiet after Laura. He had an inkling that his Mama knew more than she let on, but she never told him anything. She was so worried he would just end up alone forever, and the last thing she wanted was for her oldest boy to be lonely. And then there was Sarah, she worried for her, wanting her to grow up with a female presence in her life other than a grandmother. But any time either of them suggested a set up or him going out more to meet new women, they were either met with silence, straight out rejection, or in Tommy’s case, hostility.

Tommy knew he was not one to talk. He hadn’t exactly had a serious relationship in years. He realized that he and Maria were a new development, but now that he’d met her, he also knew that he didn’t want to even imagine a life without her in it. And he wanted his brother to have that too.

But how could he help Joel, when the man himself didn’t want to be helped?

A couple of weeks went by, and before they knew it, the meetings for the shoots over the next season had begun. The new episodes shot over the past year was edited and ready to go for airing, and Joel found himself dragging his feet to get to work. The prospect of another year of this, as determined as he may be that it was the final one, was too much to bear for him. Another year of long work hours, another year of being away from his girls. The idea that he would have to be away from home more than he would have liked hurt him.

Sarah was home, loving her internship so much she came home every single day with stories to tell. Ellie finished her summer course, enjoying the last couple of weeks of her summer holiday. He was positively sulking at the idea that he might need to leave the house before he could send Ellie to school and come back home after the girls were asleep, missing Sarah’s stories and Ellie’s homework time. Given how busy his schedule would be, he might even be away on weekends, so movie nights with the girls and Tommy might be a thing they had to forego for a while too. Even the thought of what was coming made his heart feel heavy.

But what weighed his heart down even further was the fact that Ellie would no longer be attending the classes at the rec centre. There would be no excuse for him to see you in the mornings. For the coffee, obviously. He had no idea how he was going to go back to bad coffee on set when he had been indulging in that luxurious cup he had been having for the past few weeks.

Of course, the idea that he wouldn’t be seeing you every day for the next year was something he wasn’t looking forward to either, but that was neither here nor there, surely?

He had learnt more about you from your time together, seamlessly chatting whenever the truck had a breather from customers. You even taught him to make his own espresso shots. He actually managed to make a simple latte and an americano for a couple of customers when you went to get something from Tony. But for his special cup of coffee, his payment for helping you out in the mornings, you had always indulged him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He stayed once Ellie came out of class, wiping tables, joking around with you and Ellie, only going home when you close for the day. Heck, he had the free time, and spending time with Ellie as she earned her first cheques was something he wouldn’t miss. Ellie got quite good at making coffee, despite hating the stuff. She even managed a decent cup of cappuccino a few times, complete with the foamy art thing at the top. He couldn’t get the look of happiness that graced his little girl’s face every time she succeeded, and the proud smile and hug you gave her stayed in his head.

He couldn’t deny the influence you had on his girls. He knew Ellie spoke to you about things she didn’t dare tell him, private stuff, perhaps, and watching her interact with you brought warmth to his heart. He watched as you braided Ellie’s hair in one of those stick to the head braid things, the one he had attempted for years with Sarah but could never get neat enough, when she complained the bits that was not tied in her ponytail kept getting in her face. He was so tempted to take a picture, you sitting in the truck doorway, Ellie between your legs on the steps, smiling and laughing with each other as Ellie told you something that happened in class that day, but if someone knew what a big deal it was to have someone snap a picture of them without consent, it was him. So he didn’t. But the sight was so domestic, so intimate, he wished he had done so. Ellie’s own mother ditched her as if she was yesterday’s garbage and knowing that Ellie had you to turn to made him feel better. Even Sarah wouldn’t shut up about you, even though her time spent with you were now limited to weekends, texting and phone calls. Like Ellie, she had taken to telling you stuff she wouldn’t share with Joel as well, and the fact that you never told him anything showed him they were right to have chosen to tell you in the first place.

He liked you. He knew that. There were days when he was lying in bed looking at your phone number, daring himself to text you. But he didn’t know what to say. Laura was the only woman he had ever allowed himself to be that close to, and his relationship with Laura was… different.

But God, he wished he could find the courage to text you.  

Yesterday, on Ellie’s last day of work, Joel watched as you presented her with her final cheque, giving her a tight hug after, telling her to come over in the evenings if she decided to volunteer at the centre. Though the teenager had plans to do exactly that, Joel could still see she was sad that she wouldn’t be spending so much time with you. She took a selfie with you, silly faces for the photo, you pointing at the cheque in Ellie’s hand with a huge grin on your face.

Then, you turned to him and gave him a brief hug, thanking him for helping you out, telling him not to be a stranger.

Maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw a glint of sadness in your eyes.

How he wished he had the courage to get a selfie with you too, but given how the two of you met, he didn’t even dare ask.

And he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss your company.  

“Okay, so there is a list of celebrities who had already expressed interest in the charity episodes, more than we need, actually, but those who we couldn’t fit in this season could always be on standby for next season,” Jimmy, one of the co-producers told the team, shuffling a bunch of papers on his desk, passing the list around.

“Next season?” Joel asked, “Didn’t Angela speak to you?”

Jimmy looked at Joel, confusion in his face. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not renewing. This is my final run.”

There were murmurs of confusion going around the room.

Jimmy looked flabbergasted. Tommy kept his head down, but didn’t say anything.

“Well,” Jimmy managed to blurt out, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it then. Moving on…”

“Angela, why hasn’t the team been informed about this being my final year?” Joel barked as he walked into Angela’s office, Tommy following behind.

Angela rolled her eyes, “Are we really back here?” she asked, her arms crossed on her chest as the brothers stood in front of her desk.

“I wasn’t kidding. I am not renewing. I was very clear about this.”

Angela opened her desk drawer, taking two envelopes out, depositing one in front of each brother. “Have a look, gentlemen, and tell me you want to decline that offer,” she said, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Tommy picked up the envelope and took out the new contract, shuffling the pages for a bit before settling on one page, letting a whistle escape his lips, his expression impressed. Joel didn’t even look at his envelope.

“They tripled our pay,” Tommy said. Joel still didn’t budge.

“Tell me I didn’t do you justice. Haven’t I always taken care of you two?” Angela cooed.

“I don’t care about the money. I am done. I’m not signing,” Joel reiterated, turning around to leave.

“Tommy, knock some sense into your brother here, please. Imagine what you can do with that kind of money!” Angela told Tommy, exasperated at Joel’s stubbornness.

Tommy didn’t speak. He closed up the contract and placed it back in the envelope. He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head a little before letting the envelope fall on her desk.

“I’m not renewing either.”

Joel stopped in his tracks, his head snapping around to face his brother.

“What?” Angela gasped, her face now devoid of any colour, despite the layers of make-up on it.

“I’m with Joel. I’m not renewing. I’m done. One more year and then I stop,” Tommy cooly replied, hands in his pockets.

“If the amount is not enough…”

“It’s not about the money, Angela. We’re just… done.”

Tommy turned around and joined his brother, asking him if he was interested in having a drink at his place, which Joel happily accepted.

They spent the evening drinking by Tommy’s pool, taking advantage of the final couple of weeks of vacation time they had, Joel letting loose for the first time in a long time. He felt free. Tommy wanted to retire too. One less person to fight over this decision he had made. Their phones were blaring with texts and missed calls from the agent, so much so, they had to set her tone to silent.

“So, you and Maria…?” he tried.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah…” he wiped his face with his hand, happiness written all over his features. “She’s great, Joel. She makes me happy.”

“Angela knows?”

“Fuck no. She’s gonna make it a thing. Publicity, all that. I’m not putting Maria through all that. And you know what she’s like, she’ll whip up an NDA before I finish telling her about it.”

Joel shook his head, annoyance clear across his features.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at that, pouring another shot of whiskey for the both of them.

“You two… uh… still…?” he tentatively asked, worried Joel might not be drunk enough to share.

“Nah, stopped that like… a couple months before i officially adopted Ellie?”

“Can I ask why?”

“She’s changed,” Joel said, sipping his whiskey, taking the fuzzy slippers Tommy gave him to wear in the backyard off, lying down fully on the pool chair. “You remember what she was like when we first met her?”

Tommy nodded. Of course he remembered. Angela, the sweet, fresh faced, innocent young girl who just landed a job at the agency. The two of them were among her first few clients. They were more friends than agent/clients back then, all of them starting out, still learning the business.

Somewhere along the way though, she changed. Obsessed with money, even going so far as marrying someone she didn’t love just because he was rich. The man was a known playboy, notorious for openly having a new young girl in his arms on a weekly basis. As she got older, she began to worry his interest was waning, so she took it upon herself to look younger, keep his interests alive, all in the name of living a luxurious life. It was no secret she didn’t love him, only his money. She had lovers on the side for herself, not that her husband ever cared. He stayed with her because of her Hollywood connections, good for business, you know?  

Unfortunately for her, the man matured, fell in love for real, retired, and divorced her for the love of his life. And because of the prenup she signed, she didn’t get much in the divorce. She herself had become successful by then, so she went back to her single life, with plenty of money and a list of men she could call should she ever get… lonely.

She and Joel were friends for a long time, with benefits, of course. But he was always the man he was now, someone who refused to commit. The arrangement lasted until she got married, and resumed for a bit after she got divorced, only to stop completely when Ellie came into the picture. Joel didn’t like the way she tried to influence his decisions on Ellie, realizing that his formerly kind friend had changed. Everything became a question of image, and of course, money.

Joel just couldn’t find it in himself to ever be involved with someone like her. If not for the contract he signed, he would have said goodbye to her the moment she suggested having Ellie in his life was going to ruin his image. But now, he had one year left of this contract. He was not renewing, and Tommy was by his side. He had to stick with this for one more year, and then he’ll be free of her.

“What are you gonna do when the year is up?” Tommy asked.

“Ellie still has to finish school, after that, we’ll see,” Joel shrugged, giving Tommy his glass for a top up.

“Don’t punch me, but… will Lily be part of that life?” he smirked at his brother.

To his shock, his brother smiled, so widely, and blushed.

Oh, the drinks had gotten to him, Tommy thought.

Joel closed his eyes, laid his head back on the chair, a silly grin on his face, looking just the way Tommy imagined he himself did when the revelation about Maria came forth.

“God I hope so,” Joel heard himself say.

Shit. Stop talking.

“I like her, Tommy, I really do.”

Fuck, what the fuck was wrong with him? Stop talking!

“She’s so sweet, and kind, and funny, and smart, and she’s so nice to the girls, they love her, and she makes the best coffee in the world!” he exclaimed, gesturing to show how big the world was with his arms, spilling whiskey on himself.

Fuck it felt good to finally say it out loud.

Fuck, did he say it out loud?

He sat up, Tommy grinning at him like that cat from that book. Was it a cat?

“Maybe I should stop drinking, huh?” he feebly said.

“Fuck, no! I want to hear this!” Tommy teased, taking the glass from his brother and giving him water instead. “So we were right, you do like her?”

Joel hid his face in his hands, nodding.

“So tell her! What are you waiting for?”

Joel took his hands off his face, frowning a little.

“I don’t think she likes me like that,” he pouted, lying back down, arms over his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Joel sat back up, looking a bit forlorn now.

“She hates celebrities. We’ve been mean to her all her life. One stole her boyfriend. And I yelled at her. I fucking yelled at her, Tommy!”

Tommy wanted to laugh. When was the last time Joel was this relaxed? But this was the most he had ever gotten out of his brother, and he wasn’t going to let such an opportunity pass by.

“Well, maybe when you retire, you could ask her out. Technically, you wouldn’t be a celebrity anymore then, right?”

Joel’s eyes went wide, “Yeah, you’re right! I could ask her out then! I need to text her and tell her,” he slurred, fishing his phone out of his pocket, squinting a little at the screen when the brightness hit his eyes, deciding then he shouldn’t text you right away.

“Okay, let’s call Sarah huh? Have her pick you up? You’re in no shape to drive.”

“It’s just down the street, Tommy. I’ll be fine. I’ll walk.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you can walk a straight line to the bathroom, brother, let alone to your place. It’s a very long street.”

Joel laughed, standing up, swaying slightly. He downed the bottle of water Tommy gave him, going to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face, smiling to himself. He felt lighter. He may have been loopy, but he knew he was telling Tommy the truth. He liked you. and it felt good to finally say it out loud.

“Hey Joel,” Tommy called out as he struggled to put his boots back on, “I want you and the girls to meet Maria.”

Joel nodded, happy to see his brother happy.

“Friday night? That sushi place?”

“It’s a date,” Joel said, squinting his eyes a little as Sarah’s headlights shone in his eyes. Ellie came out and went into the back seat, waving at Tommy as she did so.

“Hey, since it’s a date,” Tommy said, walking to the car with his brother, “Why don’t you ask Lily to join us?” He bent down to Sarah’s open window, “What do you think, girls? Do you think we should invite Lily to join us for dinner with Maria?”

The squeals the girls let out made Joel’s efforts to bend himself into the mini much more difficult, but his heart was soaring at the idea that his girls were that excited at the prospect of having you join them for dinner.

As he laid in bed that night, hoping to God his first hangover in years wouldn’t be too harsh, he took a deep breath and held his phone in his hands, the texting app at the ready. Might as well do it now while liquid courage was still in his system.

You placed the recycling in the bin, running a little as you went back to your apartment. The summer heat was still very much evident, even at night time, and you couldn’t wait to get back in the comfort of your AC. You were fishing for your keys in your pocket when Lucy tapped you on your shoulder, a meek smile on her face, a sponge cake in her outstretched hands.

“I need to apologize,” she said, a cringe accompanying the apology.

You felt bad for her, so you beckoned her inside, even cutting her a slice of the cake.

“I want to say sorry,” she began, “That day, I was hungover, I had a terrible first date the night before, and seeing Joel here…” she sighed, shame across her features.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, really… if you’re worried I would say anything, I…”

Lucy held her hand up, “No, Lily, I was rude to you. And I’m pretty sure I said some really bad stuff about him too. I just… I feel like I need to set the story straight.”

You nodded, letting her go on.

“See, I think I made him sound like some jerk or something. He really isn’t, Lily, there’s a reason I’m so bitter, after all,” she said, head hung a little, ashamed of herself.

“He’s a great guy. I dare even say that he’s the most gentlemanly man I have ever met. So polite, so gentle, so considerate. Compared to his brother, who, by all means was a great guy himself, Joel was just… on a different level, you know? I crushed hard on him. Everything I just said about him is true, and he’s good looking, humble, and a great dad to his kid to boot? Oh, I was in love with him before he even knew my name!”

You smiled, knowing that she was right. Joel was a great dad. You’ve seen him with his kids, they clearly loved each other a lot. And aside from his tantrums at the beginning, you knew him to be a great guy too. Everything she said about him was true.

“And the thing I said about his… bedroom… skills…” she added, carefully choosing her words, “I think his… lacking… was more due to the fact that he didn’t want intimacy, rather than his lack of a gift or talent, if you know what I mean…” she narrowed her eyes at you, head going down a little, as if trying to get you to read her mind.

Your head lowered with hers, face scrunched up, confused by her words.

“He’s packing, honey. Very much so,” Lucy blurted out.

Oh. Oh…

“So, he didn’t really need to try that hard, if you get my meaning,” she added, rather conspiratorially.

Uh… sure, whatever you say dear.

“So, when he reconfirmed the fact that he didn’t want more, I was heartbroken. He was perfect, he was actually a great guy, back then, at least. And he didn’t want me and couldn’t have made it clearer. I think if he tried to make it any clearer, he would have seriously injured himself. I couldn’t stay there and see him every day. It’s like being a diabetic in a candy store, and the shop owner wouldn’t let you buy any,” she sulked a little at her own words, making you snort.

She saw the way you were refraining from laughing and laughed herself. You burst into laughter, Lucy laughing harder than you at herself.

“So, I came to ‘warn’ you because I was jealous. I didn’t mean any of it,” she said, looking genuinely sorry for putting you in that position. “There’s a reason all his ‘exes’ are still on good terms with him, you know. He’s a great guy. Just… emotionally stunted, is all. And they all handled the NDA thing much better than I ever did,” she continued, taking another bite of the sponge cake.

“What about the NDA?” you couldn’t help asking. For someone who didn’t really bother with the gossip columns growing up, you were really curious.

“Ah,” she said, taking another slice of cake. “See, as I understand it, at least, the way it was explained to me before we, you know… had that experience in his office, he only made sure the NDAs go to people who were not deemed his ‘serious romantic partners’. Only his ‘friends with benefits’ receive them. And so far, most of those he slept with were given one, so when his agent gave me one, I knew right away that I was never ever going to be ‘the one’ for him,” she explained, taking another bite of the cake. “Damn, this cake is good.”

“Most? Did he ever not give anyone one?” you heard yourself ask, almost slapping yourself for even asking. Why did you need to know? You’re not interested, right?

Lucy nodded frantically, and you felt your heart drop further and further down every time her head dropped down. “One lady contractor, she was in that show on TLC a while back? Tess, I think? Yeah, Tess. They were seen together a lot, and there were rumours that they were an item. From what I heard, she didn’t have to sign one. They broke up when she moved to Texas.”

Okay, you shouldn’t listen to this anymore. So you changed the subject, asking her where she got the cake instead.

Before she left, she turned around and took you by the hand, making you promise her that you wouldn’t use her words back then against Joel. You gave her a disbelieving laugh, “Honey, I’m not with Joel. He’s a friend.”

“Okay, uhuh… sure… cause we all look at our friends the way you guys looked at each other that morning,” she smirked.

“Lucy, there was no look, I was just thanking him for helping me out,” you insisted, feeling your face and neck get hotter as you did.

“Lily, honey,” she said, “I may be a delusional, inconsiderate, untalented bitch who made you suffer through my horrendous singing at one point, and I was definitely hungover that morning, but I’m not blind. If Joel Miller had looked at you the way he would a friend that morning, I would not have come barging in here trying to make him seem like a limp-dicked, selfish man whore,” her eye brows were raised so high, her lips in a mocking pout at you, her hands rubbing your arms soothingly, as if she was sorry you were too thick to understand what was going on that morning.

With that, she took your face in her hands, pinched your cheeks and bid you goodnight.

You laid in bed unable to sleep, wondering what the hell to do with the information Lucy just gave you. You could not deny what she said back then did give you pause about Joel.

Sure, you liked him. He’s nice. Funny, even, when no one else was looking.

And okay, if you squint, he may even pass as okay looking.

Oh, who the fuck were you kidding? He’s totally hot. So hot you found yourself feeling hot all over every time he looked at you. Like all the heat in your veins just pooled under the outermost layer of your skin. Not to mention the way your heart skipped a beat every time he smiled at you. It’s a wonder you hadn’t toppled over from cardiac arrest at this point.

You looked for him in the morning crowd, and that week he was away…

Your fingers itched to text him. You willed Ellie to send you pictures with him in it. You stared at that photo she sent you of herself, Sarah and Joel with sushi in their mouths. Even at his silliest, he looked dashing. You found out rather early that googling his pictures was pointless, he didn’t smile in any of them, always with that frown on his face. You watched YouTube videos of him from that show, but he didn’t smile there either. You missed his smile when he was away. You kept rereading the text he sent you asking you to teach him how to brew coffee, the only texts between the two of you, aside from the ‘hi’ he sent when he first got your number.

When you said goodbye to Ellie yesterday, you meant it when you said she could still contact you. She’s been telling you things, whenever Joel was out of the truck. Texting you at night and even calling you with Sarah to talk to you about more private stuff. You didn’t mind, of course, but on one such call, he knocked on Ellie’s door and told her she should go to sleep, it’s late, and you heard him say goodnight to her and Sarah.

You couldn’t stop imagining what he was like at home that night, in a more domestic setting. What was he wearing? Did he look as good as he did outside?

After hugging Ellie goodbye, you took a chance and hugged him goodbye too, heart heavy at the thought of not seeing him around as much. You made the mistake of taking a whiff of his shirt as you did.

Fuck, he smelled great. And now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not that you ever managed to since he started hanging out at the truck.

If what Lucy said back then made you pause on being closer to him, that conversation you just had with her didn’t help either. You could not get him out of your mind. And that comment about his… physique…

Your phone chimed, making you jump.

Joel Miller: Hej

Your heart soared. He texted you. He actually texted you.

Okay, stay cool. Relax. He couldn’t see you.

You: Hei. What are you, Swedish now?

Joel Miller: I might be a bot drink.

You: You don’t say? How can I help you, Mr Miller?

Joel Miller: Yuo frre Frrday?

You: Uh… I’m gonna guess you’re asking if I’m free Friday? I’m working. Why?

Joel Miller: Sorry, fst fingers. Froday night. You free Friday night?

You: I should be.

Joel Miller: Call I kill you?

Joel Miller: Walt. Np.

Joel Miller: No.

Joel Miller calling.

“Hello?” you had to refrain from laughing.

“My fingers are too big to text.”

“I can see that.”

He chuckled. You could hear the slow, lazy drag in his laugh.

Oh yeah, he’s drunk alright.

“I was trying to ask if you would be free for dinner. Friday. With me. The girls, Tommy, and his new girlfriend.”

His voice was so calm, slow, relaxed, every word drawn out. God it made you feel things.

“You sure you want me there? Sounds like a family thing. I don’t want to intrude…”

“You’re not. Please? The girls would really love it if you joined us.”

I would too. Please say yes.  

You were quiet. He lifted his phone off his ear, checking to see of you were still online. You were.

“Hello? You still there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… are you asking me this cause you’re drunk?”

“No,” he slurred, chuckling. “I’m really asking. I’ll ask you again tomorrow, if you don’t believe me,” he promised.

“Okay, ask me tomorrow.”

“But if I do, would you say yes?”

“We’ll see, Mr Miller.”

“Okay,” he said, unable to control the grin on his face. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Good night Lily, please say yes.”

“Night Joel.”

Part 9

[naked-covered-in-bees]

Goodnight, Sweetheart

Since returning from the Empty, Cas needs human things like sleep.

It’s harder than he remembers. The Empty made it harder. Sleep is something he fears now.

He keeps his bedroom door open a crack, letting a shaft of light in from the corridor.

This way he can also hear Dean’s footfalls when he’s up late.

Often–every night in fact–Dean’s footfalls stop outside his door.

One night, there is a quiet conversation between the brothers in the hall as Cas keeps his eyes shut tight, determined to sleep like a regular person who doesn’t make trouble for anybody.

“Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“Nothin’.”

“Are you…are you guarding Cas’s door?”

“No, man. Shut up. Just…” A sigh. “He has trouble sleepin’. Want to make sure he’s okay. Empty gives him nightmares.”

“Why don’t you just go sit in there?”

“Why don’t you mind your business?”

Cas thinks maybe he imagined it, caught between dreaming and waking, until one night when he wakes up screaming and Dean is at his side instantly.

“Cas! Hey, Cas!” Dean’s voice is soft, his arms are strong, solid around him. “Cas, it’s okay. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here…”

He was screaming Dean’s name he now realizes.

“Mmm’ alright,” Cas mumbles, sitting up.

“Like hell,” Dean rasps. “Fuckin’ asshole Shadow did a number on you, didn’t it?”

Dean sounds so fierce, as if he might march right down to the Empty with a machete and give it a piece of his mind. It would be an amusing thought if Cas didn’t think Dean had the nerve to do it.

“What did it do to you?” Dean says more gently. “In the dream. I mean. You don’t have to…”

“It was you,” Cas whispers, shaking his head. Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed, still clutching Cas’s shoulders as if he might disappear if Dean doesn’t keep a hold of him. “Y-you were in…in the Ma’lak box at the bottom of the ocean. And I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t reach you, you were…” He’s shuddering, he realizes, so hard it makes his teeth chatter.

“It’s okay.” Dean wraps his arms around him. “S’okay, sweetheart. I’m here. No mark, no Ma’lak box. Right here with you.”

“But that’s what I saw.” Cas lets himself be held, because he can’t help himself. He shuts his eyes and speaks half into Dean’s shoulder. “In the Empty, that’s what it made me see. And it felt like years. Years of knowing you were in there alone in the dark…”

“But you were alone in the dark, man.” Dean’s voice breaks and he sniffs. “You were. And I couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t reach you.”

“Have you been standing outside my door?” Cas winces as he says it.

“Can’t really sleep if I don’t know you’re okay,” Dean mutters. 

I’ll watch over you.

“You could…just stay here with me,” Cas says. “If you want to.”

“Yeah, alright.” 

They shift around as Dean gets under the covers. His hair is still a little damp from a late night shower. He smells like shampoo and toothpaste and like his soft pajama pants are fresh from the dryer. Cas inhales deeply.

Dean shifts around as if he’s just getting settled, but he ends up much closer to Cas than is probably necessary and when Cas turns his head he can feel the regular puff of warm minty breath on his neck.

He’s half asleep before Dean’s hand appears on his chest, resting there over his heart that Dean had a hand in growing.

“Dean…?”

“Mmm?

“Did you call me sweetheart before?”

“Who, me? Nah. You’re crazy. Go to sleep.”

Cas can hear the smile in his voice, feels a golden warmth spreading up his body from his toes and he shifts closer, his nose buried in soft damp hair as Dean’s arm tightens slightly over his chest.

“My mistake,” Cas murmurs. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Hmm. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[verywolf589]

*Inhale and Exhale.*

Tyler is Eve, not the Judas! Not just because Judas kiss Jesus (Wednesday) knowing he’ll have to betray her at the end. He is the Eve because just like Eve, he gets trick by the serpent (Laurel) to get knowledge (trying to figure out what happened to his mother, Francoise) because God (Donovan) won’t give him the knowledge! TYLER IS EVE! TYLER IS EVE!!