#and I can never find the right place to do it

[madamechrissy]

Pornstar! Suguru

pairings - Pornstar! Suguru x Camgirl! Reader

warnings - oral (m and f receiving) fingering, p in v sex, Suguru is whipped, so is reader, mentions of masturbation, backshots, creampie, light smacking, choking, Suguru has piercingsss

I've gotten a lot of requests for Pornstar! Suguru from Baby you're a Star, so here's a drabble for him!

Pornstar! Suguru who is just a little nervous when he gets asked to join your OF stream, you are so pretty and you've only done solo, so he knows it's a big deal. You're giggling when he walks into your place, starstruck by him, he was one of the most popular stars there were of course! His violet eyes darken when the two of you are in your cute little room, a bed full of plushies and lit up with pink string lights, silky pink blankets and pillows. 'Girly, huh?' he teases, as if he didn't already know exactly what your room looked like, watching as the ringlight illuminates your pretty body as you strip slowly. 'I do love pink, it's true' you murmur, almost a little shy as his eyes devour you - and why? Thousands of people see you, but it's him.

Pornstar! Suguru has done countless shoots, on and off professional sets, but the way you look right now in the warm glow of the light makes him falter for a moment, before collecting himself, seeing your nerves. 'So pretty, shit I'm sorry...' he trails off, making you instantly relax, taking his hand then and looking under your lashes. 'You're a little more experienced at couples' shoots, can you guide me a bit, Geto?' He nods then, turning you and making you gasp out, then bending you over, beginning the stream. You feel such a thrill as sure hands guide up your thighs, and his big hand smacking your ass and making your tummy clench in desire then at the sting.

Pornstar! Suguru displays you like a fucking prize, as the stream goes insane with comments and tips. You whine out when his long slender fingers find your slit, thighs trembling already, slick making the perfect clicking noise just for both of your fans. 'Fuck, this wet already?' He taunts softly, you just whine out, arching your pretty ass up for more. Suguru sinks two fingers in to the knuckle then, groaning as he feels that grip, curling them up, your head falling back as you cry out in pleasure, as his fingers press that spot in your walls that makes you blinded. He has the audacity to slip his other hand up your spine, leaving goosebumps everywhere, lips against your ear - 'bet I make you feel so much better than that dildo you fuck this pretty pussy with'

Pornstar! Suguru thrives off any of his co stars pleasure. But he is dying to bury his throbbing cock inside you then. You may not know, but he's jerked it to your videos countless times, your pussy was so perfect on camera. But in person? - 'Ngh!' - You're crying out now, he feels your muscles clench, when he slips his fingers out, sucking your sweetness off them. That's when Suguru loses it, your taste fucks him up, before you can process he's on his knees, cool metal of his tongue ring flicking your clit. 'Oh my god I- ah!' You're trembling as his tongue devours you, the moans are not for show. Fuck you've never felt this good, back arching to fuck his handsome face. You pause, whispering - 't-too much, I'm so sorry-' only for him to slip his tongue in and out of your cunt in the most delicious tongue fuck.

Pornstar! Suguru chuckles a bit, leaning up as you look back at him. Your hands are gripping your soft pink blankets as his silken black hair falls against your thighs. 'Keep fucking my face, Princess, s'okay' he starts fucking you with that long pink tongue again, slurping you up so obscene to the thrill of your viewers but it's hard to remember they're there when he curls up in your gummy walls and you're gushing down his face. Pressure hitting your tummy making you scream out, head thrown back, shaking. 'Suguru! I'm cumming!' He chuckles, acting like he's not leaking pre against his pants right now, murmuring - 'cum all over m'face, hmm?'

Pornstar! Suguru you've certainly heard of numerous times from friends, but you did not know how talented he was, when you're cumming so hard and he's drinking it all up, tongue ring clicking right on that little clit while he spreads you wide for the camera. He has to remember to get all your good angles, it's what a costar does. Costars don't bury their face like he's dying to again, and costars certainly don't whimper and touch themselves, but Suguru is too lost in that flavor circling his taste buds, licking your juices off his lips when he stands, smacking your cunt with a sharp tap. He takes your hair in his hands, pulling at it - you agreed to it a little rough before hand - but he still whispers in your ear 'this all okay, love?' and you nod weakly as he pulls you to your knees. 'Yes, I'm good, promise.'

Pornstar! Suguru is of course notorious for being caring and thoughtful, but he's usually not rough on set - it was a bit of a special request, since you so frequently find yourself masturbating to his videos - not that you'd say so! - But of course he was your first and only choice for a partner on cam, you were all too shocked when he said yes. He gently smacks your cheeks each, while you suck him, only serving to make you wetter, but something about your eyes darting up and gazing at his perfect, chiseled body so slow makes his cock even more sensitive, you grind against the bed for friction while he fucks your throat. You study the piercings on his flat brown nipples, thumb brushing over the one on his belly button, but your favorite is the one on his cock, the one you're strategically massaging your tongue on, watching his adam's apple bob as his head falls back.

Pornstar! Suguru always uses protection, but he may or may not have ignored the condoms laying there, and you may or may not have said a thing, just eagerly begging him to fuck you - 'now, please, mnh!' with your ass in the air. He grabs your hips tightly with his huge hands, gentle at first, but then he loses his mind inside your hot, soaking wet cunt, his silken locks falling against your back as he bends over you, cock shoved balls deep. You're stuffed so full you scream out, as his hand grips one of your pretty tits, squishing them and twisting your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your head falls back against him when he just rolls those hips - saying the most filthy things in varying tones. 'Tight little cunt, it's a big stretch isn't it?' he says loud for the cam, but then in your other ear, just a murmur - 'Feel so fuckin' perfect wrapped around me, Princess' the contradictions so sweet and perfect you're shattering in front of him.

Pornstar! Suguru is lost in your scent, your moans, how good you fucking feel, he can't pay attention to the absorbent amount of tips or comments, if he did he may get mad, he doesn't think he'd like to read how badly men wanna fuck you. To know he's your first for a shoot like this gets him feral, possessive, one hand around your throat and squeezing now. 'Cum f'me, huh, lemme feel her grip me so good - hah- there it is' you can't tell what's for show anymore, not when he squeezes under your jaw while he slams his cock in, not when you're cumming and gushing arousal all down his veiny length. Not when you're trembling, and begging - 'cum in me, Suguru please!' like a whole fucking idiot, and not when he does just that, giving you both your first creampies on set.

Pornstar! Suguru gets the perfect shot of that cum oozing out of your pretty, abused little hole, the bright pink of your cunt such a stark contrast to the white ropes pouring. He scowls when he reads the comments, jaw clenched- he doesn't know why but he gets furious, shutting off the camera now and flipping you on your back. You giggle, so breathless, hands brushing his locks as his violet eyes go almost black. 'Done with the shoot?' you ask softly, he nods just a bit, before fingering the cum drooling down your inner thigh, shoving it back in, watching your soppy little hole swallow it. 'Not done with you yet, princess' he murmurs, sucking the mix of you off his fingers, cheeks hollowing before he is right back to fucking you, this time kissing you on your lips- and it's off camera.

Pornstar! Suguru has no issue coming back the next morning with a plan B and breakfast, he'd buy stock in them if he could bust inside you five times in one night again. You're all flustered, somehow you have on his dress shirt, messy hair as you take it with your coffee, and he has the faintest blush on his cheeks. The two of you did so well, a whole fucking sensation. So Suguru has to of course bring you to his house next time, to do another stream the next week, and the two of you can't help each other from doing shoots together constantly. Rumors surround the two of you - are you a couple!? - but both of you never answer them, you both assume the mating presses and desperate kisses behind Suguru's curtain of hair speak for themselves.

Sugu needs more lovvve !!

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[darkredsugarcookie]

Hi!! I’m new here so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. Just want to send some Thunderbolts!Bucky ideas maybe he called his girlfriend (the reader) for backup (maybe she’s a former shield agent) but didn’t share too many info with the group and they all a little surprised to find out he has a girlfriend

Let me know what you think, thanks!

i absolutely LOVE this!!! Ever since I saw Thunderbolts I've been thinking about almost this exact thing and I got another ask for something similar, so here we are! I'm also tempted to make a part two of this but focus on the two of them more and make it a comfort thing to apologize for my shame room fic LOL

love you 3000!

Signed Up For This

Word count: 1,143

As far as the media knew, the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances. 

But it was a bond that had gone back a lifetime, from when the two of you had first met when you were fresh out of escaping the Red Room, to when he was the contact you had made to get a fresh start on life and he was in the process of trying to make amends with his existence, so he had offered to get coffee. “We both need some… new connections,” he had said, offering that awkward smile that you had fallen for almost as quickly as he’d fallen for you. 

It was your idea to keep it a secret. You knew how he felt about weaknesses and you were currently the only one he really had. If anyone knew the truth… God, it terrified him. The idea of losing the one pure and right thing he’d gained in this side of the century drove him into a panic more often than he’d admit. So he was glad you had brought it up, worried you might be offended or think he was ashamed of you.

Which was what made him making you the head of his security when he decided to run for Congress a little out of the blue, but you took it. Any opportunity to be close. Plus… who said sneaking around at work was for teenagers? 

But tonight, you had a different reason for asking to speak to him in private in the middle of the fundraiser gala. You knew that look on his face. That look that said he was plotting when he very much should not have been. 

“What are you thinking?” you asked, peeking around the corner for a moment before your gaze fixed on him again. It was a miracle his hair had stayed in place, but there was a reason he always made you do it for him. “I can see that look.”

“What look?” he replied, that dumb grin you’d fallen for years ago pulling at his mouth. “I’m not thinking.”

“You are such a liar, James Barnes. I can see it. Whatever you’re thinking, leave it alone. We are past our meddling days.”

“I’m not meddling,” he said. 

You tilted your head. “Do not let this stuff with Valentina get personal. You can’t afford to get in trouble with all this.” 

“The politics don’t—”

“I’m not talking about politics,” you said. “I’m talking about you, Buck. We don’t know for sure what’s going on and we can’t act until we do. Otherwise we’ll be in just as much trouble as she is.”

“I talked to her assistant,” Bucky said. 

“Her assistant? Mel?” 

“Yes. She’s on the fence.” 

“Okay. Tell her to call you when she’s made a decision. Don’t make it your job to change her mind,” you said, taking a step closer. He just stood there a moment, looking you over. Not in that ‘get in the office and take off that dress’ kind of way he normally did, but like he was just taking in your existence. “You told me that my job as your security is to keep you safe. But my job as your fiance is to make sure that we’re not making dumb decisions. Let Mel come to you.”

He nodded, reaching for your waist to tug your body closer. Normally you’d pull away in a setting like this, even hidden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not now. Not when you had that feeling in your stomach that something was just off. And that feeling had never led you astray. “I just make your job harder, don’t I?” he said with a small, teasing smile. 

“You do, but I signed up for it,” you replied. 

“I’ll be good,” he said, nodding. “But… Mel’s just a kid. If she needs help—”

“Help her,” I said. “And if she needs more than that, call me.” 

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. “My best girl,” he whispered. 

“Always.”

And you should’ve known after that conversation that it was only a matter of time. Within thirty-six hours, you were sent a pin drop link to some place in the middle of nowhere and a message that just said “need you.”

You’d tugged on that leather uniform jacket you hadn’t touched in a long time and braided back your hair before pulling up to some abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere, intel in hand. You could hear voices from inside, something about a “Bob” and exclamations of words you hardly understood. 

You shoved through the rusted door, swiping up on the tab in your hands. “She took over the old Avengers tower,” you said, approaching and offering Bucky the tablet. “Heat signatures say she has the place crawling with security and I ran facial rec on the guy she brought in early this morning.”

“So guns blazing is the only way in,” Bucky said, reaching to squeeze your hand in a silent thank you. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Guess so,” you replied before turning to the abstract group of circus people tied up in front of you. And John. “What the hell happened here? Bucky, I told you to just leave Walker alone, he’s been through enough.”

“Who are you?” the little blonde in black asked. If you squinted, you might recognize her. Like some sort of really distant, childhood memory. 

Bucky blew out a breath before you could answer. “She’s my fiance.”

“Your what?” came from all four of them. 

“He’s married?” the brunette asked. 

“In the process,” I corrected. 

“How did that happen?” Walker muttered. 

“Oh, that is cute!” the large one exclaimed, seeming to be way too happy considering the circumstance.

You glanced at Bucky, your arms folded over your chest. “This is… who was so important?” 

“They’re witnesses,” Bucky said, giving you a look as if to tell you to be kind. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the others. “Most ragtag team I’ve ever seen,” you said, shaking your head. “What, exactly, is the plan here?”

“Well, originally, they were my witnesses,” Bucky said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “But now the agenda looks a little different. Take out Val, help Bob. Then we go home.” 

“Bob?” You asked. “Like Robert?” You took the tablet from his hands and swiped it open. “Yeah, he’s a big deal now. If we’re gonna move, we need to do it fast.” You swapped a knowing look with Bucky as he nodded. “I’ll start the car.” 

As you made your way towards the door, you heard the voices behind you. 

“So you’re really not all bite, huh?” one of the girls said. 

“Someone really does have a soft spot.”

“Isn’t that cute."

And despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your lips.

[heartyluv]

would you ever consider writing sleepy, soft, clingy zayne? baby is completely wrapped around you and won’t let go, even if you have to get up and go to the bathroom 🥺🥺🥺

Note: Fluffy Zayne is always the cutest because you just know he only lets himself be that way in front of you. I listened to Comfortable by H.E.R while I wrote this and it’s just soooooo ADORBS. I hope you love this!

No Warnings! :)

Clingy!Zayne/Reader

I’m outside. Please open the door for me, love.

When you read that notification, your heart starts to flutter like crazy in your chest. You can’t stop smiling, even past your shock as you quickly stand up from the couch to throw on some pants. Even if he’s your boyfriend, you don’t tend to answer the door in your panties.

Quickly, you run to your apartment door and pull it open to find your boyfriend standing there with a tired expression on his handsome face. But he smiles softly, looking at you with so much love.

He’s dressed appropriately for the cold weather in all black with his long peacoat, slacks, and button up shirt with his classic Oxfords. He presses his rectangle wire framed glasses up on his nose, opening his arms when he sees you ready to run into them.

His unique scent and expensive cologne fills your nostrils, bringing you comfort. You missed him so much.

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back today? I thought I wouldn’t see you for another week,” you mumble against his neck as he braces one solid arm around your waist to hold you close. He deeply inhales your scent as well.

Home, is all that fills his mind.

“I was able to finish everything quicker than anticipated. I wanted to come back to you,” he answers truthfully as he places one gentle kiss below your ear.

Zayne had been sent across the country for a series of serious research meetings that included things he couldn’t exactly discuss right now, but they were doing big things. Good things. He was gone for a whole month and you never thought it was possible to miss another human being as much as you missed him. Seeing as he was able to miraculously get a week’s worth of anticipated work done within two days, the feeling was mutual.

When you two hesitantly pull apart, you don’t pry him with questions or anything. You’ll save that for when he’s well rested. You can hear how tired he is. You know he’d be more than willing to sit up and talk to you, but you could never do that to him.

“Hungry?” you ask him as he rests his suitcase beside your shoe rack before shutting the door.

He shakes his head, pulling off his coat, but hesitating as he answers. “I ate on the plane. Are you? I can head back out and get you something.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness and shake your head, helping him pull it off completely. “I’m okay, bub. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

He accepts your help. “Is it okay if I shower first?”

“Of course,” you nod. “ You know I have some of your clothes here, too. And I can get your laundry started and in the dryer to finish overnight. Just take your time.”

“You’re too good to me,” he says genuinely, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. But that’s not enough, so he presses three more to your soft mouth before actually pulling away this time to get cleaned up.

You do just what you said you’d do, going inside his suitcase and washing the simple garments, making a note to bring his work clothes to the cleaners.

Zayne’s finished and back to you within thirty minutes, just as you start his clothes in the dryer. His face is free of his glasses, but not his exhaustion. He’s shirtless, only wearing a simple pair of gray sweatpants.

“Your apartment is warm,” he answers when you can’t help but stare at his muscular chest. That makes you laugh, pressing a kiss to one of his pecs when you walk up to him.

“Need me to turn it down?”

“No need,” he answers. “Are you ready for bed?”

You tell him yes, shutting off all your lights and climbing into your bed once in your room. Your poor baby is so tired, so you don’t small talk as you let him rest his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around you to finally get some good sleep—something he hasn’t had since he left you.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I’m not as talkative right now. But I will be in the morning. Thank you for everything.”

You run your hand through his partially damp hair, admiring the softness of his dark strands. “It’s okay, I understand completely. I’m just glad you’re here. I’d do anything for you.” He snuggles into you deeper at that, making your heart swell. “Sleep well, okay? We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

When the sun rises, you blink away the sleepiness as you wake up and admire the golden glow of the light streaming in through your windows. You and Zayne are in the same position that you were last night. This time though, his leg has both of yours trapped. He’s wrapped around you entirely and he did it all in his sleep. You look down as he rests on your chest so peacefully, admiring the gentle curve of his nose.

You just take the time to admire him in his entirety. You think of how lucky you are to have such a man like him as yours and in your life. You couldn’t want for anything when your everything is right here.

You look ahead at your clock that’s on your dresser, seeing 9:27 AM. It’s early for you, but this is sleeping in for your hard working man. You want him to get more of that, but you want to have some food ready for him as well as get his laundry folded.

And you have to pee.

You start to slide away, at least you try to. But Zayne’s grip on you is surprisingly stronger than you expected. You chuckle at his bicep, watching the muscle that refuses to release you, flex so effortlessly.

“Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, nuzzling into you more and huffing out a breath through his nose.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you frown. “I gotta get up though, babe.”

“You don’t have work.”

Of course he knows that’s. Even if it’s a Thursday, he knows your schedule just as well as he’s mesmerized his own.

“I want to take care of some things for you, is all.” Your rake fingers down his scalp, smiling at how he shudders. One of his weak spots. Bonus for you that his hair is extra fluffy after air drying over night. You relish in this because he’s not going to let it stay that way when he gets up, but you just love how extra soft it is when it’s like this.

“We’ll go out for breakfast, so you don’t need to cook. Don’t leave me. I’ve been without you long enough,” he speaks, but the tiredness in his voice makes you feel awful. You really didn’t want to bother your sweet baby.

“Can I pee, at least?” you shake with a laugh and you see the corner of his mouth tilt up in amusement. Even if he’s so hesitant, he cares about your health. He wouldn’t be your Dr. Zayne if he didn’t.

“Two minutes,” he commands. And you listen, rushing up and using the bathroom quickly. After taking care of your business and washing your hands, he’s on his back on the left side of your bed.

You climb back in, and he gets on top of you immediately, placing himself in between your legs and putting his face right on your boobs. He hums, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you start to rub his scalp again while he uses the silk of your nightgown and your pillowy breasts like a pillow.

The bed is long enough so that his feet isn’t hanging off of it, and he uses this to his advantage to be sandwiched close to you.

“I missed you so much,” he says with closed eyes, making yours water at how loving his tone is. You’d do anything for this man. He’s your universe.

“I missed you too,” you admit, kissing the top of his head and rubbing down his strong back.

“Is it alright if I stay for a few days? I don’t have work until Monday. Being with you is all I’d like to do.”

“You don’t even have to ask. You can stay as long as you’d like. Forever is an option, as well.”

He kisses your breast, placing his cheek right back on top and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a moment between you two for a moment—comfortable.

“I love you,” he squeezes you even tighter.

The butterflies in your stomach are holding hands and spinning in circles while singing the cheesiest love songs at his affection. “I love you most.”

You eventually fall back asleep, resting for the whole morning and into the afternoon as Zayne stays glued to you. He’s like that for the rest of the day as well as each one after that during the days you spend together.

Being able to have a safe space like you is all he’s ever wanted and being lucky enough to have it is all he’ll ever need.

[flvvffy]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . ❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄...𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 ❞

concerned sukuna x reader who doesn't wanna eat. ooc sukuna.

you noticed that you were eating a lot. anytime you felt even a little bit hungry, you ran to your beloved fridge. your time spent in the kitchen was probably more than your screen time.

it didn't really bother you until you stepped on the scale. you had gained a lot more weight than you thought you had. you recalled every single moment you stuffed your face with food, and you heart sank. and you were determined to loose weight.

though, your method was not approved by your boyfriend. you never told him how you felt and he didn't know that you wanted to start a diet. but he did notice that something was going on.

he loves your curves and every part of your body really, and the extra fat was a much appreciated bonus and it just made him go crazy. but your current eating habits were annoying him.

for one, whenever he gets food, he has to ask you twice if you want it. you end up saying no, but once it arrives you're eating his food together. as much as he expresses how much he finds it annoying, he can't bring himself to say no.

but now, you just outright say no and you mean it. he raised a brow at you, confused. "are you sure about that? you really don't wanna try this delicious hotdog, hmmm...", you only stare at him and shake your head no.

this continues on. everytime he offers you his food, you refuse. his heart clenches as he watches you. there's something that's not right. and especially when you barely eat half of your food and offer the rest to him. giving him the excuse "i'm not really that hungry", millions of thoughts are running through his mind. especially since you always finish what's on your plate and he offers more.

the final straw was when you had made dinner for the both of you when he was over at your place. you prepared food on his plate and on yours but your portion looked like the amount a five year old would eat.

"what's going on? are we rationing food now?", he asked not wanting to touch his food.

"no...but this is all i wanna eat now-"

"bullshit! you used to complained about small portions in restaurants and now you're doing this.", his brows furrow in concern and places his rough hand gently on yours. "if there's something wrong you can tell me"

you swallow thickly not wanting to meet his gaze. he only looks at you, waiting patiently for you to tell him what's wrong. you breathe out and open your mouth. "i've just been eating quite a lot lately...and i've gained quite a bit of weight so i'm going on a diet"

he's quiet for a moment and looks down. "starving yourself is not the answer", he responds and you look up. " i don't like seeing you like this. you haven't been yourself and it was killing me on the inside. i thought for a second you didn't love me anymore", he lets out a shaky chuckle and you look at him apologetically.

"i'm sorry i made you feel that way..."

"that's not the point. i will always love you just the way you are, even if you do gain a little weight. i don't love you because i love your body. i like your body because i love you", a wobbly smile is etched on your lips, your eyes getting teary.

he switches his plate with yours and takes a spoonful, placing it infront of your lips. "say ahhh"

you giggle and open your mouth as he feeds you. you're lucky to have such a caring boyfriend.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

[namjooningera]

If LADS were Yanderes ♡

Characters: Zayne, Caleb, Sylus

AN: I guess I’m gonna start doing LADS content? Here’s some basicslly soft yan lad boys. Request if y’all want more (^^)

Warnings: soft yandere things, mentions of stalking. Mentions of smut in Zaynes; overstim, brat tamer zayne, shower sex. Caleb is lowkey manipulative. Not proofread

Sylus:

♡ He values your independence, however that doesn’t exactly stop him from making sure your always just a step away from him- he’s right there if you need him

♡ he always just happens to be in the area when you are. Oh you’re fighting a wanderer right now? On a mission? He’s right beside you! Plus, the faster you two finish the mission tne faster he can get you on a date with him, spending tne rest of the day together!

♡ He most obviously hates things in the way of y’all’s relationship, little pests in the way. And you never really realize when they disappear, when he comes home with just a little blood on his collar, his hands a little grimier, his eyes sharper and that smirk hanging off his lips.

♡ has a certain obsession with buying you pretty things. Little trinkets here and there because he’s a dragon. And no, of course they don’t have tiny cameras in them! He already has just Mephisto watching you- right? Just Mephisto?

♡ No, he doesn’t get jealous. He gets territorial. You two are together- bound. So who does this guy think he is? Hitting on you in broad daylight? Your little coworker. It doesn’t matter though, because the very next day you find their desk cleaned out!

♡ Sylus who watches as you see other men. Your coworker, doctor, childhood friend… he just watched and laughs. Do you truly think any of them can actually be as good as he is? Sylus is confident that once you have him, you won’t need anyone else. It’s why he lets you keep your little guy friends, because at the end of the day, he’s confident that if they became a real threat, he’d barely have to lift a finger to get rid of them.

♡ Sylus who’s extremly clingy. You find him to be.. everywhere. He’s always “in the neighborhood”, in front of your work, at your favorite cafes, he’s just.. around. And when you finally do call him to you, instead of letting him pop up to you instead, it’s like he’s in a buzzer radius, showing up to you immediately.

♡ He’s so clingy that he’ll even show up to your missions! And of course you’re confused, because what kind of “business” does Sylus have four hours away from home? And all of a sudden the hotel you booked is completely full and your sharing a room with Sylus?

♡ Even with these acts that are becoming too coincidental, his act is so cool and collected you, for the most part, believe him when he says he had “business” in these parts, or he just happened to stop by your home, because you forgot something at his base. And hey thats funny, he has your necklace in his hand. You don’t ever remember taking it off in the first place.

♡ Had photos of you- everywhere. His wallet, his nightstand, on his desk. He’s just so adorned by you!

♡ Finally, after all that quality time together- he’s elated when you finally start going out together!

♡ Of course, this is when bit by bit, his obsession starts to show more and more. Except.. it’s weird. You like it? Maybe it’s because he’s grown on you, spending so much time together you like the pest that’s Sylus- attached to your hip!

♡ So when he does suspicious things, like when the waiter hits on you- and all of a sudden Sylus needs to use the restroom, and comes back with the slightest drop of blood on his collarbone- you don’t blink. When your mean supervisor humiliates you, all of a sudden they’re demoted to the worst branch and bruised- you shrug. When you see your ex- the one whos always pestering you- in Sylus’ base one day, bloodied and tortured- you look the other way. Why? Because what you don’t know won’t hurt you. And after all, your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe.

Zayne-

♡ Zayne, your sweet childhood friend, you’re sure can’t hurt a fly. After all, he’s a doctor! He took an oath.

♡ Zayne is.. interesting to say the least. As you grew up together, you saw him as this sweet but timid boy. He had his nice moments, but most of the time you mistook his actions for mean ones because of his attitude- even when he meant the nicest things.

♡ It was almost.. annoying, knowing Caleb was always there with you. When Zayne you two were young, and he noticed your shoes were untied, letting you know so that he can get on his knees and tie them for you- just for little Prince Charming Caleb to swoop in and kneel on his knees, tying bunny knots on your cute pastel shoes.

♡ He needed.. new ways to get your attention. And Zayne was smart, he was sure he could find ways to do exactly that. He’d make snow figurines for you, trying to entice young you, so that perhaps for playtime- you’d choose him, not run to Caleb. And finally, when you do, when you tell Zayne he needs to be the dad when playing house, and you’ll be the mom- and Caleb will be the dog- everything is just.. perfect. Young him is elated. Plus he notices young, you’d be the perfect partner! So adorable and sweet, with your apple cheeks and gummy smile, he’s fallen head over heels.

♡ But you’ve grown up now, and you’re still with… him. Caleb. Even the words on his tongue die out as he feels gross just thinking about him. He’s never especially had anything against the guy- Caleb isn’t a bad person. It’s just that with you- his blood sizzles. The attention Caleb gives you, is so much more then an adoptive brother or childhood friend, his arm hung around your shoulder constantly, bickering with you and you two being in each others possession for several years.

♡ He’s scared that leaving for university will just cause you two to become even closer- but Zayne needs to. He disappears- with the thought of you still in his mind as he studies viciously.

♡ And finally, he’s back in town. As your health care provider, your primary physician

♡ And then there’s the incident. Caleb’s gone. And you need a shoulder to lean on. That’s okay, Zayne has done lots of study on psychology, he’s sure he can be your personal therapist if needed too. Or he can just be your close friend, who lets you cry in his shoulder or rant away, it doesn’t matter. He just wants you to know he’s here.

♡ And no! Caleb was his friend- he’s not happy that he’s gone! He’s just relieved. And soon it’s like a bridge has been built between you two, there’s no annoying wall separating you guys, and you finally choose him first every time.

♡ He’s also the type to coincidentally show up everywhere you go. He’s always at Akso when you need him- but somehow he’s always at the missions you go to as well? Showing up just perfectly timed at the train station where you are, for your timely three hour trip up north. Though with his aloof manor, you never really do get reasoning for why he’s always around, and most of the time you don’t care to ask. It’s nice to have your best friend with you, right?

♡ Zayne who huffs and puffs with an attitude when you call him your “best friend” to some people while out on a mission- him just tagging alone of course. For the rest of the day he’s silent, stubborn, staring out the window of the train and giving you curt nods and shrugs when you poke at him and try and prod- whys he acting so weird?

♡ You decide that perhaps he’s hungry- or he’s been depraved of sweets for too long. So you drag him to some cafe and sit him down to eat. He contently eats his tiramisu, forgetting that there’s a small percentage of alcohol in it.

♡ Zayne who whines in your arms as you drag him to your hotel room. You think this is your fault, you bought him the tiramisu after all! It’s only fair you take care of him. But all of a sudden he’s confessing to things.. thoughts.

♡ He confesses how he thinks your blouse shows too much of your cleavage, that while you walked him, he was looking down it the whole time. He confesses that at this point you might be the only woman he talks to, the only one he ever needs anyways. He confesses that he holds a grudge against you- for calling him something so ridiculous- a friend. That he wants you, wants to kiss your cute lips and memorize every part of you. To beat up the little prick who stared at you the whole train ride, to replace Caleb, To be able to hold you without precautions, to kiss you and be with you, to be in your skin- in your lungs.

♡ Nonetheless, he passes out anyways. And when he wakes up, he’s mortified. He confessed? What’s wrong with him? Your disgusted surely, by his reckless behavior, how he’s thought of you so crudely since you were small- wait so why are you sleeping next to him?

♡ his eyes travel up to your sleeping face, and he feels so many emotions all at once. You stayed. You slept next to him! You’re even holding his hand! So you aren’t disgusted? Do you perhaps.. feel similarly for him? Why else would you stay? He’s elated waiting for you to awake, watching your sleepy face while a smile adorns his.

♡ You two finally date, and he thinks he might be the happiest person alive. This is also when he starts to let go of his inner worries. After all, Zayne is a smart man, self aware. So he knew his more.. dangerous thoughts, should be contained. So why were you always pushing him? Teasing him? He felt.. on edge. It’s like you knew he had another side to him, something you were curious to see. Is that why you were flirting with that guy? That tipsy man at that dingy bar? You said you were out on a girls night so how come he caught you taking to that man?

♡ Zayne watches from afar. He knew your friends wanted to go to some bar, and yes, he trusts you, but he doesn’t exactly trust your friends. But know that trust unravels- why are you sliding your hand agains that man’s arm? Or letting him talk that closely to you? Are you testing him? Do you know Zaynes here? Or are you actually about to.. cheat..?

♡ And then that man simply touches a strand of your hair, twisting it in his fingers- and Zayne loses it. He practically stomps over- and his fist directly aligns with the man’s face, knocking him over, ice even shedding off of Zaynes knuckles. He turns to you, and with eyes you’ve ever seen from him before- dark and terrifying, primal even. He grabs your hand and your dragged out of there.

♡ Your shaking as he basically throws you into the car, buckling you in like a child, as if you didn’t know how. The whole ride home is silent, and you think “this is him, this is Zayne”.

♡ When you get home your pushed into the bathroom where Zayne strips the two of you to get into the shower, where he demands he cleans you of any filth that has accumulated on you from those pesky men.

♡ As zaynes hands glide soap of your body, rubbing it in and his scowl is deep on his, you try to explain to him you weren’t cheating- that you knew he was there. You wanted to see if Zayne.. would do anything. It was just something stupid the girls you were friends with convinced you to do when you recognized Zayne at the bar. And yes, were. You really think Zayne will let you keep those friends?

♡ “test me? Really? Do you have no faith in me as your partner?” He spits out, his hands deeply massaging the soap into your hips. “You think because I let you get away with a brat so often, I’ll let you go now?”

♡ Washing you is long forgotten when the two of you are fucking like bunnies, and your crying into his shoulder as you cum for the third time, the water still cascading down your bodies. Finishing once when he ate you out, a second on his fingers, and now a third on his cock. You whine that your tired and you understand what you did was wrong, that your sorry, even though your not really sorry, you wanted to see that side of him, he still bullies his cock into your hole, growling into your ear and keeping you pinned to the shower wall.

♡ he watches you sleep peacefully, which makes sense- you came so many times, that by the end you were shaking and crying, overstimulation hitting your body as you enter sub space and the brat in you broken. Alas, he still loves you, tending to you and making sure your perfectly comfortable before you finally rest.

♡ He’s glad that you saw this side of him, like a weight has been lifted. Even though you’ve only seen just a small percent of it, his guilt is completely gone. It’s why it’s so easy for him to now go find that man who touched you and get rid of him for good! It wouldn’t be the first time anyway.

Caleb-

♡ Caleb, your sweet childhood best friend, you can even go as call yourselves childhood sweethearts. He’s been there for you forever, for as long as you’ve both known.

♡ The yandere Caleb whos just a bit too close to you. When you were kids it was fine. Taking baths together, playing with each other, running to find each other during recess, benign possessive over each other and always clinging to one another. But now it gets weird.

♡ After all, you want your space! You’re grown, and you have friends other than him. Plus you want a romantic life! He’s been scaring away boys and girls from you your whole life, you had to sneak away from him at one point just to have your first kiss!

♡ Caleb whos head is screwed on loose when he finds out that you in fact didn’t go on a sleepover with your girl-friends, but we’re at instead a club with them.

♡ You’re dolled up and drinking, even wearing a dress he’s never bought you! He’s furious, but more saddened than anything. If he had puppy ears they’d flatten against his head and he’d let out a little whimper. Was he not enough for you? So you had to go find entertainment somewhere else? He’s been with you forever. So are you bored now?

♡ Suddenly his sadness turns into anger, but no, he’ll wait. Calculated, he watches you. He watches as you drink, as you speak with your friends, and as a boy approaches you. He buys you a drink, a cheap one Caleb thinks, and finally the boy leads you to a hotel room.

♡ It’s devastating to watch you follow him to his room, with your naive eyes looking him up and down, the eyes that should only see Caleb.

♡ Caleb goes home however, when his job is done. When his calculated colonial strategy takes over and he’s back to his preppy self, sitting back on your sofa as if he hasn’t shed blood.

♡ You come home, disheveled. You looked like you cried, your makeup down in streaks as you rub at your eyes pathetically. You crawl into a Caleb’s arms as he lays on the sofa, whining and ranting and confessing about how you lied.

♡ How you went to a club instead of a sleepover, so you could meet someone. However, when he sits you down on his hotel bed, he got a call. Leaving the room and coming back just to yell at you to leave! He looks disheveled himself, nervous even, twitchy eyes and body shaking as he screams at you. However your too distraught to notice as you scramble to leave the room, fighting tears at being rejected.

♡ Caleb shushes you, telling you thats just how men are, that’s just how people out there are. He would never do that to you, he would never say no to you, ever.

♡ He cuddles you on the sofa, kissing your apple cheeks and wiping the tears that still decide to make its way down your face. He rubs your back as he tells you it’s not your fault, it’s really not, Caleb had his fun making death threats to the boy, He lets you however whine and rant until you fall asleep. Then he’s carrying you to your bedroom, wiping your ruined makeup with a makeup wipe and going as far at strip you and put you into some comfortable pajamas. His eyes look away as he changes you, but it doesn’t stop him from taking a peak at your cute bra.

♡ He cuddles you into bed, kissing your forehead and watching you as you sleep. You’d never know that the boy who “rejected” you, is currently in a pool of acid. Why should you know? He is wants to keep you naive of his actions for as long as possible. He wants to be your sweet Caleb, the one whos basically a puppy to you, clingy and teasing, always by your side.

♡ It doesn’t matter that this wasn’t the first time he’s done something like this. One day you’ll realize it’s for your own good, and that it’ll just be the two of you forever, just as you were born to do.

[mmmilkweed]

I'm still here!

hi all, just wanted to update y'all on how I'm doing.

Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, for the kind messages and anons. Every single one picked up a tiny piece of me and placed it back into its original place. I cannot thank you enough.

.. There's no easy way to say I'm still not doing good. BUT! I am doing *better.* Even if just a little, I consider it a win.

Mornings are a heavy issue. The past two, I've thrown up. Not today though, so that's a win right? Nightmares plague me - even today I caught myself dreaming that, once again, my words have been used against me and I was left alone, with only hatefull paragraphs to keep me company. Had I not realized I didn't have my phone in my hands when I woke up, I might have thought it was real. Man. Just another reason to have an aversion to my phone!!

I found a new.. Man, I never thought I'd use this word. I found a new trigger for my, what I can only assume, are panic attacks. Discord notifications. Just seeing the icon on the notification bar has my heart in my ears and I can't breathe. I still don't know how to efficiently calm myself down from these. While walking helps, I sit back down and it starts again. My job requires me to sit!! I've begun just brute forcing past it.

My appetite has completely vanished. I usually eat a decent amount through the day, but for the past 4 I've hardly been able to finish a single plate of food in a day. Yesterday I struggled with a can of monster. I LOVE MONSTERRR and yet I kept nursing it the WHOLE day. I was so mad... I'm going to go to my favorite restaurant soon, gonna work on getting my appetite back up.

On the way to my atelier, the song that inspired Timeless!AU came on: For Her by Jeremy Jordan. I adored this song. It meant everything to me, it's going to be on my Spotify wrapped from how much I listened to it. I.. Can't. Anymore. I put it on blast, I couldn't bring myself to skip it - and still, even when I was walking my heart beat faster than it should and I suddenly found myself out of breath. Negativity seeped into my favorite song. Figures

Still - it brought me some clarity. Past days I've really been feeling like a monster - but For Her made me remember that the AU really was always meant for this unrequited love, the whole thing somewhat inspired by the Great Gatsby and a dream that's just out of reach. How could I let myself be deluded so much? How did I let their words get to me so deeply that even I began questioning myself? ESPECIALLY since they don't me at ALL?! I saw someone say something so outrageous it become an inside joke with my friends! That really helped to disillusion me. I hope that with time, or with enough replays, I can find comfort in For Her again.. And I will. Jeremy Jordan is too good not to listen too

It's not all bad, though. I know I've been venting, yet I have to tell it at least to someone that's not my wife. Poor thing, I feel bad for her. She shouldn't be weighted my mistakes.

now let me tell you about the good too.

Oh there's so many amazing people in this community. Like each of you. Like my community on discord. Like my closer contemporaries. Discord notifications are not as scary when I see a certain groupchat or even server. Yes, while my heart skips a beat - I've laughed far more than cried. I can't thank them enough. I'll never bring it up to them, I don't need to drag down their mood, so I'm telling yall instead.

I've begun drawing again. I feel like I understand Shadow Milk Cookie on a very personal level now. If his demeanor changes going forward... I'm probably projecting.! Oh I've gotten to the point in rock bottom where I imagine PV helping me out with stuff. Man that's embarrassing to say. Akctually everything here is embarrassing to say - I still feel ashamed my body has such a visceral reaction to.. All of this! I digress. I began drawing again. I'm happy with what I have, can't wait to start showing yall.

I've begun scrolling Twitter too. In small doses. My modteam suggested it, and woah, it helped scrolling through the splatoon tag. I can't just up and leave it, as it's my current main source of income. I'm watching CRK tiktoks too! Slowly.

I'll try to be stead fast in my recovery - I've come to realize there are people who are dependant on me, they look to me to see how they should react. I did not see that before, and for that, I also apologize. Many have pointed out I'm new to this, and only now did I realize just how right you were. Especially as someone whos always kept to a side line - having a voice baffles me.

[wheeloffortune-design]

I guess you're unlucky because I just happened to glance at the comments on this post a year and a half after posting it. And your comment was near the top. So, graciously,

fuck you.

Telling someone that the way they reacted to empty platitudes the day their father died is 'kind of being a dick' is more than being rude, it's being cruel.

The whole post was about how, for one day, I decided to not entertain someone else's fantasy. For one day, I did not smile, placate, kept silent. That day was not about them, it was about me, my siblings, my step mother. That day, no one else's feelings mattered to me. I gave myself the right to be unpleasant while my father was dying down the hall.

It's incredibly hard to find something to say to someone when they're grieving. I've been on that side too. You can appreciate the thoughts and prayers, but nothing forces you to play along.

So I told my aunts that they could stop telling me about heaven, about how I would see him again someday, because I didn't believe that. I told that other family friend she could stop trying to give me her crystals because I didn't believe in that either.

The post I wrote a year and a half ago is about how they reacted badly to me rejecting their words. It was never about me, I don't regret what I said. It was about their reaction.

And here you call me a dick, for refusing to placate them on the worst day of my life.

I'm replying to this message not for you, but for the same reason I wrote the original post in the first place. Not knowing it would resonate with so many people, I just wanted to share my experience because I'd never heard anyone else speak of it. Maybe it could help someone, or make them feel less alone in this horrible feeling. I am lucky, it seemed to have helped several people.

If you are grieving, or when you will grieve, because we're all doomed to know grief, here are the things I learned, from that worst day of my life, and the 879 days since:

there is no good or bad way to live this pain. there is no correct way. you do whatever you can, however you want, to deal with this.

there is nothing good about this situation. don't look for the silver lining. accept that it's horrible. don't try to change this feeling into something it isn't because you feel like there should be a good side to this. there isn't. you loved them, and they're gone. it hurts.

it will get better, slowly, very slowly. you just need to make it through. but it will always hurt, at the strangest moments. the tears, years later, will be as true as the tears from the first day. this will be a relief.

and this is the whole point of the original post: if and when you lose someone close to you, you need to focus on your own pain, and not placate the other people, the ones who don't hurt as much as you do. it's not about them, it's about you. when the funeral comes, don't spend your energy in niceties, in small talk. don't make it a show for other people. take that time to get your closure. protect jealously your grief. it's your time, it's not a presentation.

The day of the funeral, a cousin talked to me about ancient Egypt, trying to cheer me up with a subject he knows I love. He started telling me about how the pyramids were built by ancient aliens, he'd seen something on youtube about it. I stopped him, told him I didn't believe in that. He was disappointed, but his disappointed was not my problem.

Tell me, should I have changed myself and nodded at his ludicrous conspiracy theory? Should I have accepted my aunt's crystal beads because they were supposed to give me strength? Then why should I have accepted something that, for me, is as completely false as ancient aliens and crystal beads?

Every other day, you need to meet people halfway. The day your father died, then his funeral? fuck that. their feelings are not your problem. don't let them make their feelings your problem.

grief fucking sucks, and this is me giving you permission to not make yourself smaller for other people when your loved ones die.

it's been a year so i feel more comfortable talking about it..

when you're atheist and you lose someone, religious people don't really know how to interact with you. it's fine, we have different worldviews.

'He's in a better place, now.'

Sorry auntie, but I don't believe that. I believe that his brain stopped working at 5h55pm on december 11th 2022, and that's it. Nothing after that.

It makes grief very difficult, because not believing in god or the afterlife also means accepting that you will never, ever see that person again. That's it. The end. Nada mas.

But, back to the aunties and other faceless people gravitating in the grey blurry waters of your awareness.

They tell you 'He's with god now' and you tell them 'Yeah I don't believe that' and.

they. get. annoyed.

Here I am, gutted open, the worst day of my life, barely holding myself together, and they! Get annoyed that I won't smile and entertain their point of view!

Another faceless person tried to heal me with cristals. She also got annoyed when I told her I didn't believe in that.

I usually don't really mind religious people. It's fine, we have different worldviews. I think I'm right but so do they. As long as they're good people, I don't judge them for their faith.

I'll even be grateful for them trying to console me. I get that you're trying to give me strength and love. Thank you.

But I'm going to be true to myself, yes even when I'm mad with shock and grief. And I still can't believe they got annoyed that I didn't play along to placate them, on the worst day of my life.

(I wanted to share because I've never heard anyone talk about atheism and grief, and the loneliness that comes out of it.)

[suguwu]

last light on: part one

Years after your break up, Itoshi Sae returns to Japan.

He finds he left more than just you behind.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

pairing: itoshi sae x f!reader, one-sided itoshi rin x f!reader

wc: 4k

cw: aged up characters/pro-footballer au, sae and reader have a named daughter together that reader hid from him, exes to lovers, complicated relationships.

notes: i couldn't contain myself any more. after several false starts (aka me posting and deleting while having a meltdown), here is the real thing. i owe my life to @lorelune for their input and advice on this fic—i cannot even begin to explain. anyway, i hope you enjoy this first part! please note this will have slow updates - please be patient with me, thank you!

Japan is a haunted place for Sae.

He forgets that, most days. He spends most of his time as far away as he can get. And Sae is not a man who lives in the past; he is focused on the future, on the endless horizon of upcoming days. 

Then he steps onto Japanese soil and remembers you. 

You live at the edge of his memory, gone wispy with the passing years. These days, you’re just the tilt of your lips; you’re the elegant slope of your shoulder. An outline of yourself, an imprint left behind on a foggy window. 

You’re a ghost of the worst kind: one of his own making. 

And Japan is your territory. You linger in the very air; he breathes in sea salt and thinks of the taste of your tears. It stirs something inside of him that he’s quick to ignore.

This trip is no different.

The plane lands at the first bloom of dawn, pink streaking across the sky like petals. Sae’s been up for a while, reviewing game footage on his iPad. He makes another note before he puts it away; there will be plenty of time to review more.

By the time he slides into the car, the sun is starting to peek over the horizon. The light is sweetly golden, soft and warm, and to his surprise, your smile flashes through his mind. It’s one of the things he’s never forgotten, but he keeps it tucked away, under the melon rind curve of the bitter smile you gave him when he left. 

He shakes off the memory. He starts the game footage again, his teal eyes sharp, a scalpel’s edge. He watches for a few more minutes before he sighs. He pauses it and takes out his phone, ignoring the notification from his manager. Instead, he navigates to Instagram.

It’s a relic of his past life. He’s never updated it since going pro; he can’t be bothered. He can’t even remember the last time he opened the app. Maybe to see what his PR team had posted on his official one. 

He clicks into his profile. The most recent post is almost as old as the account itself; it's the beach at twilight, the waves eating at the shore.

Right.

He'd deleted all his photos of you.

With a sigh, he navigates back to his feed. He scrolls a bit, flicking through most of the photos without a second glance. It’s all tepid, glimpses into tedious lives that he doesn’t care about. He’s just about to close the app down when something catches his eye.

It’s you.

Older now, but undoubtedly you. You’re facing away from the camera, but he knows the line of your neck, the swan’s wing curve of it. He swipes to the next photo in the set; you’re still in the background, but you’re in profile this time, lips tilted sweetly, wine-kissed. 

He swipes again, but you’re not in the next picture. When he glances at the caption, it doesn’t tell him anything, but you’ve commented. He clicks the link to your profile, but it doesn’t take him anywhere. His lips thin; he tries again and gets the same result. 

When he tries to search by your username, nothing comes up.

You’ve blocked him.

His brow furrows. It’s not entirely unexpected, but he had thought that the years might have softened you towards him. He sighs and tosses his phone onto the seat next to him before starting the game footage once more.

It’s for the best.

—

Sae does not dream often.

Or if he does dream, he simply doesn’t remember. He wakes in the morning and nothing lingers. There are only the cobwebs of sleep, which he blinks away with ease.

But tonight—his second night in Japan—he dreams of you. 

It’s hazy in that way that dreams often are. He knows it’s your first apartment, the one with the flickering porch light you always left on for him, but he can’t make sense of the rest. It fades into the background, leaving him with only the starglow of your eyes peeking over the horizon of your shoulder as you disappear from room to room. 

You weave through the apartment with easy grace. He follows until he doesn’t, watching you vanish into the kitchen—a tiny, cramped thing with plants stuck wherever they can fit. You glance back at him, half-devoured by shadows. There are tears shining on your cheeks. Your lips part, and as you start to speak—

He blinks awake. 

Sae stares up at the ceiling. He runs a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair and sits up. The hotel room is dim, the rising sun held at bay by the thick curtains. If he were someone else, he might think of the shadows that you peered out from, but he doesn’t. The dream is already fading. 

He gets out of bed. The curtains part under his hand; the sudden gleam of the sun makes him squint.

He opens the window, as he always does. The breath he takes is deep; it fills his lungs with the fresh bite of the morning air. It washes away all but the dregs of the dream. He takes another breath and buries those dregs deep.

He buries you.

—

Like all ghosts, you refuse to stay buried. 

By his fifth day in Japan, Sae has thought of you more than he has in years. He’s not sure what it is about this trip in particular; you’ve always returned to mind when he’s back, but never to this extent. 

It’s annoying.

With a sigh, he taps his pen against his notebook. He glances out the window and sees the hydrangeas waving in the breeze, tiny puffy clouds. He thinks of you, petal-bodied, and sighs again. He pulls out his phone and starts a text to his manager.

Sae has always been a man of action. 

He’ll exorcise you himself.

—

Your neighborhood reminds Sae of Kamakura. 

It’s nicer than he expected; a family neighborhood, based on the parents walking by with children perched on their hips like little birds. The houses are a mosaic of architecture, a few odd styles standing out, just like his childhood. It’s only missing the kiss of salt in the air, the sea’s eternal presence. Instead, there’s the earthiness of the park that cuts through it, pungent and grassy after the morning’s rain. 

He crosses the street as the light turns; according to Navitime, your house should be on the other side of the park. The foliage swallows him down, a verdant throat, before it spits him back out into a manicured playground. Children are laughing, bright peals of sound like summer windchimes. 

He glances at the parents lining the sides of the playground and blinks.

Sae thinks of the Instagram post from just a few days ago. He hadn’t paid much attention to who posted the pictures, but if he were to pull it up again, he knows exactly who it would be.

Rin.

Rin, who is currently staring at him from his spot next to you. 

It can only be you. There’s a ghost of the girl you were just under your skin, blooming like a spring bud. It’s in the way that you move; it’s in the way that your eyes gleam. The imprint of you that’s haunted him given new life. Made real again. 

You still haven’t noticed his brother’s early onset rigor-mortis, because your attention—your attention is on the little girl snuffling on your lap. 

She’s a tiny thing, no older than three. Her hair gleams cherry-dark in the sunlight, the faintest sheen of red shimmering through it, and when she blinks, her long clusters of lashes sweep across her cheek like clouds. She blinks again, slow and sleepy, and it’s all sunlit stained glass, her eyes a familiar shade of brilliant teal.

His shade of teal.

The world narrows. Sae takes a step forward without thinking about it. 

The little girl yawns. Her nose crinkles with it, twitching like a bunny’s. You lean down to nuzzle your nose against hers, a little smile unfurling on your lips, a night-blooming flower. She bats at you with a tiny hand before rubbing at her eyes.

Sae watches, entranced.

A shadow falls over him; a hand pushes against his chest. He glances up into burning turquoise eyes. 

“Rin,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

Rin steps closer. His lean muscles are coiled tight; his lip curls back in a snarl. He’s blocked Sae’s view of you and the girl, a sheepdog circling his lambs. 

“Stay away from them,” he spits out.

Sae blinks. “Hello to you too.”

“I’m not here to say hello. Stay away from them.” 

He’d known. Sae has always had a quick mind; on the field, he needs only the smallest glimpse of information to put together the puzzle pieces, to build his strategy. He’d known as soon as he’d seen his daughter, but this—Rin and his bared fangs, Rin and the fear trembling just beneath his fiery tone—it confirms everything. 

He has a child.

“Them,” Sae muses. “So the kid is hers. Mine, too.”

Rin’s hand flexes at his side, his long fingers twitching. “Go away.”

Sae raises a brow. “It’s a public park,” he points out.

Rin scowls, moving fluidly with Sae as his brother tries to step around him. “She doesn’t want to see you,” he says. 

“She can tell me that herself.”

“Not telling you should speak for itself.”

Sae lets out a breath. “You can’t stop me, Rin.”

“You don’t deserve them,” Rin says, his turquoise eyes aflame, flaring like the auroras in the night sky. 

Sae realizes that he is not the only one you haunt.

“And you do?”

Rin goes stiff. 

Sae hums. “Does she know you’re still sniffing after her?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s a no.”

“At least I’ve been there. At least she wanted me there.”

Sae’s jaw flexes. “But she still doesn’t notice you.”

“You—”

“Sae?” you say. Your voice warbles, delicate birdsong, his name sweet on your tongue. 

Rin flinches. 

A little smirk flickers to life on Sae’s lips. Rin’s fingers flex, his glare deepening, but he wavers as you step closer. It gives Sae an opening. He claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he pushes past him. 

Rin makes a sharp noise, but Sae ignores him.

You're his focus now.

There was a time that your eyes lit up when you saw Sae, but as he draws closer, he sees only wariness. A wolf with its lips drawn back, giving a glimpse of teeth. Not yet bared, but the promise of a bite. 

“Sae.”

That airy warble is gone; your voice has settled into something cooler, the first kiss of winter on an autumn day. There’s a slight furrow to your brow, but Sae still knows you. There’s a tremble to your lower lip; there’s sorrow tucked up secret in the corner of your mouth.

He says your name. Watches the way you cup your daughter (his daughter) closer to you, her little face burrowed in the gentle curve of your neck. You have one hand cradling the back of her head, as delicate as a dove’s wing, your fingers splayed like feathers.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“Looking for you.”

Something flickers across your face, a fleeting summer storm. 

“Japan, Sae. Why are you in Japan.”

He shrugs. “It’s still my home, you know.”

“Is it?”

Your daughter makes a small, musical noise, shifting in your arms. You hush her, humming softly until she falls still again, lulled back into sleep. Sae watches the way her little hand curls into your sweater, tiny fingers anchoring her to you. 

(He wonders, briefly, if she would hold onto him in the same way.)

"What's her name?" he asks.

"Why do you care?"

He sighs. "Games don't suit you," he says. "Tell me my daughter's name."

Something in you hardens, frost spiraling across a river's surface.

"Rin," you say quietly, and his brother steps in front of him again, blocking his view of you and his daughter. He flexes his fingers as Rin scoops up the little girl; she mumbles quietly before settling against his lean shoulder. It's easy, born of familiarity, and something in Sae grows teeth.

"One brother wasn't enough for you?" he asks.

Rin whips around, fury lining him like a cloak, splitting through him like a thunderclap. Your hand comes up to rest on his other shoulder, restraining him with the most delicate of touches. An owner pulling her dog's collar.

"It's fine," you tell Rin. "Can you settle her in the stroller, please?"

Rin's turquoise eyes are aflame, burning like a comet's tail through the velvet sky. He stares down Sae for another breath before he turns back to you.

He leans in close; too close for Sae to hear what he says to you.

You nod, and Rin sends Sae one last glare before he walks away, carefully cradling the little girl in his arms. Sae's gaze catches on her small form; he thinks of the sea foam that washes up onto the shore, too delicate to last.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, turning back to you.

You meet his gaze steadily. "You wouldn't have stayed."

Sae shoves his hands in his pockets; he stays quiet. You watch him, your lips curling down at the edges, like wilting leaves.

"What do you want, Sae?"

"My daughter."

"You can't have her," you say. "You'll break her heart."

"Like I broke yours?"

"You didn't break my heart, Sae."

He watches you for a moment. You meet his gaze steadily, but he sees the cracks in you. The ghost of who you were before he left you behind. The girl you’ve grown out of, her skin too small for the woman you’ve become. 

"Yes," he says. "I did."

You sigh. "Go home, Sae."

"I will," he says easily. "But not without her."

You stiffen. "You'd take her from me?"

"No," he says. "You're coming too."

"Fuck off."

He steps in close, until he can feel your body heat, until he can hear the soft breath you suck in. Longing cuts across your face, a wound torn open. It’s gone in a breath, but Sae sees it.

"You miss me," he says. "Don't you?"

"Fuck off, Sae."

"That's not a no."

Your hand comes up as he pushes closer; you splay it across his chest. The heat of it sinks through his shirt, like spring sunlight, gentle and warm. He waits, but you don't shove him away. He wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking his thumb over the tender underside. Your eyelashes flutter, a butterfly’s wing.

"You miss me," he says. "Say it."

"I miss you," you breathe.

The words are delicate, spider’s silk. They linger in the space between you, a gleaming web spun from your trembling lips.

Sae leans closer, until he can smell the honeysuckle-kiss of your shampoo. 

"Then let me in."

You let out a shaky breath. Your fingers flex against his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt.  "Sae—"

"Yeah?"

"No," you say, finally shoving him away. He steps back gracefully, his face impassive. “Don’t do this to me. You won’t stay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I do.”

Sae studies you. Your eyelashes are damp; one of them has caught on your cheek, a dandelion seed. There’s an urge to reach out and sweep it away with his thumb. He shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“Do you give Rin this hard a time about leaving?” he asks.

“That’s different.”

“Not really.”

“Sae.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

You purse your lips, a flower bud pinching shut. “This isn’t about Rin.”

He glances past you. At the edge of the playground, his brother is rocking the stroller with long, practiced movements. It’s a strange picture, this snapshot of Rin; his ease speaks of a life already lived. 

Rin leans down; he’s reaching for the girl’s foot, kicked over the side of the stroller. Sae stares at that tiny foot, cupped carefully in the palm of Rin’s hand.

“You’re right,” he says. “It’s not.”

He returns his gaze to you. 

“It’s about my daughter.”

Something flashes across your face; Sae thinks of the last days of summer, the slow swallow of them.

“You mean my daughter,” you say. “She’s not yours.” 

He sighs. “We both know she is.”

“No,” you say. “Not in any way that matters.” 

Sae was stung by a sea urchin, once. He’d stepped on it in the shallows, its prickly body hidden amid the shadowed, worn rocks of the tidepool. The spine had pierced through the bottom of his foot; he’d bled. He hadn’t been able to play soccer for a week.

But he hadn’t held it against the sea urchin. 

It was just protecting itself.

“I would say helping create her matters rather significantly.”

(Okay. He had held it against the urchin. A week was a long time to be banned from soccer.)

“It doesn’t,” you say. 

Sae tilts his head. “If that was true, you wouldn’t be so scared right now.”

You flinch.

“I’m not—”

“You are.” 

Quiet falls between you. Your eyes flash in the sunlight; Sae thinks of heat lightning, how it never touches the ground. 

“You’re right,” you say, so softly that it’s almost lost to the wind. “I’m scared.”

He waits. 

“Tell me I don’t have to be.”

Sae glances past you again. He wishes he could see into the stroller, that he could see his daughter’s face again.

“I can’t.”

Your face crumples, delicate origami crushed in a fist. 

(You have always reminded Sae of the lacquered origami that’s scattered around your bedroom like stars. Like them, you’re tough enough to protect yourself against the elements, but underneath it all, you’re still paper.) 

The creased paper edges of your devastation slice through Sae, scoring the tender underbelly of him, the part he’d thought had long hardened against such cuts. He thinks of roshambo; perhaps he should have known.

Paper always beats rock. 

But if he’s cut, you’re wounded, a deep, terrible thing. You’re curling in on yourself, just slightly, as if that can staunch the sorrow seeping from you. Your lower lip trembles, but Sae can see the anger starting to filter in, a sunset bleeding across the horizon. 

You blink away your unshed tears; the remnants of them leave your lashes glistening, the sunlight catching in them like a prism. Sae watches you piece yourself back together, your anger the glue, glowing through you in kintsugi gold. 

You take a deep breath.

“You’re such an asshole,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t bother to refute it. He knows this is where most people would apologize, but he won’t. Not for telling you the truth. 

“I want to see her,” he says instead. “Can I come over tomorrow?”

You go stiff, a marionette pulled upright by its strings. He wonders if you’re thinking of what you both know: Sae does not ask for things. He does them, consequences be damned. It’s an olive branch, one barely blooming, a twig of a thing. But it’s there. 

“No.”

Sae doesn’t flinch, but he feels his jaw go tight, his teeth clicking together, bone against bone. He flexes his fingers at his side.

“You—” he starts, voice chilled, a blade of ice. 

“You can’t just walk into her life,” you say, cutting him off sharply.  

It stops him in his tracks. He’s not used to that, not anymore. People tend to listen when he talks. The surprise keeps him from responding, giving you enough time to add: 

“And you can’t just walk back into mine.”

He doesn’t need long to recover, though. “Even though you miss me.”

Your expression twists, souring at the edges, the first hint of rot in overripe fruit. “That doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

“I don’t care what you think, Sae.”

“Yes,” he says, “You do.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, denting the plush flesh. “You’re such an asshole,” you tell him again. 

“I know.”

The wind picks up; it catches at your clothing, plucking at it with playful fingers. You smooth the fluttering fabric back down with a trembling hand. 

“You can’t see her,” you say softly. “She won’t understand.”

“Won’t understand what?”

“Why you have to leave again.”

“You don’t know that.”

You sigh. “I do,” you say. “It’s hard enough with—” 

You pause, clamping your mouth shut before you can finish your sentence. Something cold curls through Sae, a winter river that snakes between the banks of his ribs. 

“With Rin, right?” he asks. “It’s hard enough with Rin.”

You watch him for a moment, your eyes wary, a rabbit peeking out from the brush. You nod.

Sae exhales through his nose. “I see,” he says coldly.

You wince. “Sae—”

“Don’t.”

It’s not his usual calm tone. It’s shatterglass, keen-edged and ready to cut. He hates it. 

Your eyes widen. There’s something in your expression that Sae doesn’t want to name. It catches beneath his skin like a burr, sharp and unrelenting. 

“Sae,” you say softly. “I—”

A piercing cry rents the air, splits it apart like a blade. Sae blinks, but you’re already whirling around, heading for the tree Rin has settled under with the stroller. His brother is hefting the screaming girl into his arms, his big hand stroking along the slip of her spine, but she’s still wailing, a high, animal keen. She reaches for you as soon as she sees you, her chubby hands grasping at air.

She buries her face in your neck as you cradle her. Sae’s too far to hear what you’re murmuring, but her wailing starts to trail off. Your hand settles at the back of her head, cupping her close, a gentle promise. 

Sae steps forward just as Rin shifts, curling around you like a shield. There’s a flash of turquoise heat; Rin’s expression is a dare.

He should know better. Sae has never been one to back down. 

He ignores Rin and comes closer, until your voice floats to him. It’s softer now, but it’s steady. Sure. 

“It was a scary dream, huh?” you say, pressing a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head. “It’s okay. You’re awake now. Let’s go home, yeah?”

The girl’s answer is lost in the salt of your skin, her face still glued into the curve of your neck. You seem to understand the squashed words perfectly, though. You hum an agreement and adjust her in your arms. She finally peels away from the cradle of your neck. There’s silvery tear tracks mapped across her chubby cheeks. From under her wet eyelashes, there’s a peek of teal, a crescent moon of familiar color. She sobs again, low and wrenching.

Something twists through Sae, a tender bruise being pressed. He takes another step forward, but before he gets close enough to garner your attention, Rin slinks forward, blocking him.

Sae gives him a sharp look, but Rin’s thundercloud scowl only darkens. 

“Not now,” his brother hisses. “Are you stupid, you shitty brother?”

Sae glances past him. His daughter has buried her face in your neck again; only the sunset sheen of her hair is visible. You’re curled protectively around her even as you search the stroller for something. 

Sae is not one to back down, but he also knows how to pick his battles. 

He nods to Rin; his brother blinks, his scowl softening in his surprise. Rin watches him for a moment before clicking his tongue. He doesn’t nod back, but Sae doesn’t need him to. 

Sae watches as Rin turns back to you and coaxes the stroller out of your grip. 

“Let’s go,” he says gruffly.

“Okay,” you say, hushing the girl as she whimpers softly. “Got everything?”

“Yeah.”

You glance back at Sae. It’s only for a breath. For a moment, he thinks you’ll say something, but you don’t. You turn around and start down the park’s path, Rin pushing the stroller at your side.

Sae watches until the verdant throat of the park swallows the three of you up.

You don’t look back again.

[bratbarzal]

How do you think Poppy and Luke's gf get along/hit it off when they first meet? Like what are the vibes, is it at a game? I'm assuming it would be after Cheeto is born?

written as a follow up to LIH and TSOU and including characters from OYS (none of which have to be read to enjoy this hopefully lmao) this is such a niche blurb but it's really sweet!! trust Luke to mess up the ending of tsou by getting surgery 😔😔 no more reader jumping into his arms 😔😔 let's pretend he catches her on one side so I don't have to think too much about it thanks 💕 also this ties into another blurb I have planned for their first date lmao but that will hopefully be done by the end of the month!! contains: fluff!!! in abundance!!! wc: 2.8k

"You know you're gonna have to let me get up at some point, right?"

You feel the vibrations of his words against your cheek before you fully register what Luke is saying, his neck warm against your temple as you rest against it, your body slung over his just enough that you're not crushing him.

"Don't have to do anything," you hum in defiance, lips moving against his skin as you hook your leg over his from above the sheets so he has no actual leverage to move away - like he would in the first place - and stretching your arm across the width of him, your fingertips tracing featherlight touches along his collarbone - careful to avoid his bad shoulder - until the arm on the side you're resting on curls as much as it can around your hip. "You're not the boss of me."

He snorts out a laugh that makes your chest feel tight, and you suppose he sees the irony in that statement just as much as you do - considering how you'd only just promised him when you'd both set off from Detroit yesterday that you'd be happy to play nurse for as long as he needs.

For as shitty as the timing of Luke's injury has been - missing out on the rest of the playoffs, and subsequently ruling himself out to play in the world championships - you've been reaping the benefits of the whole thing, entirely.

He'd somehow managed to schedule his surgery so that he could surprise you at your commencement - lying that he hadn't been fit to be discharged yet and showing up alongside Jack as you waited with Ellie for her to be able to see her boyfriend while you worried endlessly about your own.

And the two of you had disappeared together after the ceremony, spending the whole weekend holed up in your room at the sorority before you would have to clear it out. He had attempted to help you pack up the few things that remained, and had come with you to move what you couldn't ship home to your mom's place into storage with the promise that he'd help you sort through it when you came back in the summer to the lake house.

He hadn't been the best assistant, his arm all slinged up, and all, but you still liked having him around - even if it was just to be a pretty face and a warm body to cuddle into at the end of the day, too exhausted to do much else.

And then you flew out to Jersey with him to clear out his locker at the Rock away from the whole media circus, spending the week in his apartment with him while he dealt with some other business. It had never been the plan to come out here - but you wouldn't trade this time with him for anything.

The latter end of the season had been hectic for Luke, and you wrapping up with school had been just as bad - and finding time to fit in the tribulations of a new, long distance relationship was hard work, but the two of you got through everything, the worst of it behind you entirely.

And you've been enjoying playing house with him, away from everybody else - it's the first time you've really gotten the chance.

Ellie and Jack are back in Michigan, and Quinn left to go back at the same time Jack did. His parents are there, too - and your mom is where she always is, back in Chicago.

No sorority sisters, none of Luke's friends or his teammates, who have all dispersed back to their home states or countries.

It's just the two of you, and no responsibilities, and it's been incredible, even if it has only been a day, so far.

"We should probably get up and do something," he hums, "Feel like all I've done for the past week is sit around and watch you."

"Like that isn't your favourite thing to do," you scoff, leaning up and pressing your lips to his jaw, planting a soft kiss to the scratchy skin there and making a mental note to convince him to shave, later - maybe even offer to do it for him. Clinging on to the 6 hairs that remain from his attempt at a playoff beard is getting a little sad, unfortunately.

"You got me there," he smiles softly, and you kiss the curve of his lips, too, too pretty not to. "We could go watch a movie?" he mumbles against you, "Maybe grab food after,"

"Mmhm," you respond, too into kissing him over and over, the soft bump of his nose against yours the only thing to get you to part.

"There's a viewing for Thunderbolts in like an hour," he tells you, and you roll your eyes while biting back a laugh.

"I was ten seconds from climbing on top of you, and the only thing on your mind is showing times for Thunderbolts?"

"I can only avoid spoilers for so long, babe." He pouts, and you huff as you roll off of him.

"Such a dork," you mutter fondly to yourself as you push yourself off of the bed and watch his eyes trail down your figure as you stand. "I need to go get my bag out of the car," you tell him as you reach for the hoodie you had helped him shrug out of last night, and the shorts he'd fumbled you out of with just one hand. "Do you want me to make you something to eat when I come back up?"

"I doubt Jack left anything in the refrigerator while he was here," he grumbles, eyes still on you as you bring his hoodie down over your body and jump into your shorts, "I'll shower while you're downstairs and try get ready quick enough that we can stop for breakfast, yeah?"

"Okay," you lean back over to kiss him, "Please be careful in there, I don't want a lecture off of your brother for not taking care of your properly."

"Damn," he smirks, "I was gonna try and fake another injury so that you'd have to jump in with me to supervise next time."

"You just have to ask, idiot, don't hurt yourself on my account."

You part with one more kiss before you're making your way through his apartment, picking up your shoes on the way and grabbing his keys from where he'd left them on the hook by the door.

The two of you had been in such a rush to get up to the apartment the night before that you'd left your bags in the trunk of his car - the car he'd actually let you drive from the airport, despite the fact he'd once told you that you drive like a maniac and he'd never trust you behind the wheel again - and you're grateful that Luke didn't bring a bag himself or you'd have to haul them up on your own.

Getting your bag from the car back to the elevator is hard enough work - overpacking to the point of ruin, as always - and when you're finally inside and stretching out the muscles in your back, you hear the faint call of, hold the door, from around the corner.

Your hand shoots out before the doors can close, palm pressed to where they disappear, and then you're face to face with another girl - hair astray, chest heaving to try and gain her breath back, and the cutest baby you've ever seen attached at her hip.

"You're a lifesaver," she huffs as she steps in, leaning back against the far wall of the elevator as the doors start to close again, "I mean these things are quick, but if I don't get a snack in her hands in the next two minutes, this whole building is gonna know about it."

You chuckle, slightly tranced by the way the baby girl is staring at you - brown eyes wide and soft pink lips turned up in what you hope is a smile.

You reach into the front pocket of Luke's hoodie, and of course there's a pack of cookies in there, unopened from your flight yesterday. "Here," you smile, reaching out to the girl in front of you with them in your hand. "They're oatmeal cookies, I'm pretty sure. My boyfriend can't go anywhere without a snack either, but he's a grown man," you scoff, "Nowhere near as cute."

"You really are a lifesaver," she accepts the packet with a grateful smile, tearing them open, breaking one in half and handing it straight to the little girl, who brings them up to her mouth with zero hesitation. "I'm Poppy," her hand extends back out to yours, "And this is Lina."

You tell her your name while you shake her hand, and there's a flash of recognition as you say it, her eyes darting past you to check the buttons on the wall of the elevator.

"You're Luke's girlfriend!"

"How did you know that?"

"My partner is one of Luke's teammates, Nico." She smiles, "You made Mitchie!"

"Mitchie?" You frown, and she twists her hip until the diaper bag slung across her body comes into view, a familiar crochet giraffe slotted into the side pocket.

"We don't go anywhere without Mitchie."

A slow grin creeps onto your face as you look back at the baby clinging onto Poppy's side - dark eyes, soft brown hair, dimpled cheeks, just like Luke's team captain. The captain whose baby shower he had been trying to find a gift for all of last summer.

You've heard little pieces here and there about Poppy and Lina. Random little stories from Luke, a recollection of a brief encounter with Ellie, but you hadn't expected to meet her yourself in the middle of the building elevator without Luke around.

"I didn't realise you guys were back, I would have come to introduce myself, Luke's been telling us about you all year, hasn't he, bug?"

You feel the warmth seep up into your cheeks at that fact - the two of you technically only being together for the last 6 weeks or so.

"We got in last night," you tell her, only realising the elevator has come to a stop when it's on your floor, and the doors start to open. "He's inside if you want to come and say hi?"

"Are you sure?" Poppy asks, "I can always drop by later, or something?"

"No, it's fine, he's going a little stir crazy to be honest, might be good to see a familiar face that isn't mine."

"I get that," Poppy snorts as she follows you out of the elevator, Lina still happy as a clam on her hip with her gums wrapped around the cookie, soft little lip smacking sounds and hums coming from her direction. "Nico left a couple days ago and we've been walking circles around the local park just to stay busy. Everybody just disappears this time of the year."

"At least the weather's nice," you chuckle, unlocking the door and letting the two of them in before you close it again - relief flooding you at the fact that Jack had blitzed the whole place clean before he left last week. "We're around all week if you need us for anything."

"I see why the kid's so in love with you," Poppy grins, switching her daughter to the other side of her hip and pressing a kiss to her temple. "We might just take you up on that offer, you love your Uncle Lukey, don't you, Lina Bug?"

The sound of Uncle Lukey spreads something warm and crackling through your chest - the picture of his dorky self entertaining a baby, putting on dumb voices and getting super into all the play pretend and make believe stuff is sparking thoughts within you that you never even had before.

And at the mere mention of his name, Luke emerges from his room down the hall - thankfully dressed after his shower, though his shirt is creased and his jeans are unbuttoned - an immediate smile brought to his lips that you haven't seen in the last few days.

"Cheeto!" he exclaims, and you stop him just before he reaches the two of them so you can button his pants together, patting a hand to his stomach to signal that he can go.

He curls his good arm around Poppy, the two of them falling into a sweet and familiar embrace before he diverts his attention to the baby in her arms, who's round cheeks flush just at the sight of him - similar to the way you seem to react to him sometimes.

He coos at her, and she giggles back - her cookie discarded as she throws her arms out to be held by him, and you barely stop yourself from wincing as he picks her straight up, his bad shoulder be damned.

"Are you supposed to be lifting babies?" Poppy frowns, and you're thanking God she seems to be on the same boat as you as the two of you watch him softly bounce Lina about.

"Other babies, probably not," he replies, "Nothing will stop me picking up my little Cheeto, though." The voice he puts on is deep, almost comical, lips pouting and brows furrowing as the baby giggles back in response, little squeaks of delight erupting from her chunky little figure.

"Cheeto?"

"She didn't have a name for a long time," Poppy smiles over at you, "Looked like a cheeto in all of her scans, so that's what we called her before she was Lina, and some people can't let it go."

You smile back, sort of weirdly grateful that she didn't clap back with an, it's a long story, so that you could be involved.

"What are you doing here?" Luke asks, twisting until he's facing Poppy while the little girl he's holding puffs her cheeks out at him.

"We were just gonna go out for a walk and grab something to eat, but I realised I forgot snacks for the walk and I met your wonderful girlfriend in the elevator. We have you to thank for this mushed up cookie, I think," Poppy holds her hand out to show him the soggy mess in her hand from where Lina had discarded it before, and you press your lips together to bite back a smile.

You can't really imagine holding anybody's half chewed food - let alone a baby, the thought of it sending slight shivers down your spine.

"We can get breakfast with you, if you want, we were heading out too, right babe?"

Luke looks over at you with widened eyes and a slight, hopeful smile, all thoughts of Thunderbolts seemingly forgotten. You can hardly say no to him, though - you haven't seen him this excited since he got injured, maybe even before then. And you like Poppy, too.

She probably has some dirt on Luke, and she seems like the type who's willing to share.

"Yeah, I bet you know way better food spots than this one does, he'd shovel anything in."

"Hey," he pouts, but he's overshadowed by the laughter of the woman beside him, who looks over at you with a warm smile and gratitude reflecting in her eyes.

"That sounds incredible, actually," she beams, "I'd really appreciate the company."

And that's how the two of you end up spending the entire day with Poppy and Lina - grabbing breakfast at a little cafe Poppy recommended, her catching you up on all her favourite Luke stories as the baby ends up on your lap at one point, stealing half of the avocado from your toast as she let you feed it to her, then joining them on their walk through the park, and even looking after Lina just the two of you while Poppy has a much needed break for an hour up in her and Nico's apartment.

You see a different side to Luke - and as much as you loved him before, as much as you didn't think you could possibly love him any more, you somehow do.

You love the responsible side to him - the side that for some reason knows what temperature Lina likes her bottles, and the signs that she's sleepy, or hungry, or wanting to explore. You love the caring side to him - the side that urges Poppy to leave her baby in your care, and take some time for herself after days of Nico being away, knowing that she's in for a lot more solitude in the weeks to come.

You love the side of him that shares it all with you - gets you involved in such an intimate part of his life you never had access to, before.

And by the end of the day, when you're feeding Lina some blended vegetable concoction Luke had made for her just before Poppy gets there, and you're catching the bits she spits out in your bare hand like you'd been cringing at just hours ago - you realise you love how he gets you to open up to ideas you wouldn't have ever considered until you became familiar with Uncle Lukey, and you can't wait to see what other sides of him you can uncover in all the unlimited amount of time you now have with him.

[billionairebratenergy]

Every Little Thing

 Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes tracks every detail of your life like a soldier guarding something precious, battling the ghosts that whisper you're too good to be true.

Bucky notices everything.

It’s not intentional. It’s survival. It’s instinct, muscle-deep and bone-etched, as much a part of him as the metal welded to his body.

He knows how you tap your fingers three times against your mug before taking the first sip. How you always, without fail, leave your keys on the third hook by the door. How you eat your fries last, your dessert first, your smiles brightest when the sky’s just turning pink before sunset.

He knows you. Every little thing.

Which is why, on a rain-washed Saturday night when you casually mention you’re running to the store—the store, when you hate crowds, when you hate driving in low light—Bucky's mind snaps awake like a man hearing a gun cock.

He smiles. He kisses your forehead. But inside, the storm brews.

It brews when you take a work call during lunch the next day, ignoring the sandwich he made, untouched and cooling on your plate. It churns harder when you visit the dentist twice in one week. (Once for a cleaning, you said. The second time?) Your voice had been muffled against your scarf. You hadn't really answered.

Bucky feels sick with it.

Not because he thinks you’re cruel. Not because he thinks you’re disloyal. But because some part of him—the broken, battered part—knows that things he loves get ripped away. Torn from his hands. And he never sees it coming.

The third night, he doesn’t sleep. He watches you breathe beside him, your face relaxed, peaceful. And the guilt nearly suffocates him. You deserve someone better. Someone who doesn’t catalog your routines like intelligence reports. Someone who trusts without question, who doesn’t have war drums pounding in their chest every time you smile just a little too tightly.

And yet—he can’t stop. He’s slipping again, hands bloody with doubt.

You notice. Of course you do.

You find him in the kitchen, hunched over a mug of cold coffee at 2:14 a.m., the overhead light buzz-buzz-buzzing like a broken thought.

"Hey," you say, voice sleep-rough but tender. "You okay, baby?"

Bucky looks up. The weight of his shame is a bullet in his chest. And the dam cracks.

"I—I notice everything," he rasps. "I track everything you do. I can’t shut it off. And when something’s different, I—I think something’s wrong. With us. With you. I don’t want to, I don’t mean to, but I..." He drags a hand through his hair, the strands trembling between his fingers. "It makes me feel crazy. And you’d have every right to leave. I wouldn’t even blame you."

You cross the kitchen, bare feet silent on the tile. You take the mug from his hands. Set it aside. Then you cup his face, warm palms grounding him back into his body.

"Look at me, Bucky." He does. Barely.

"You are not crazy. You’re not wrong. You’re not broken for loving me so much you notice things." Your thumb brushes his cheek, slow, steady. "You’re careful because you were hurt. You’re watchful because you’ve survived things no one should survive."

He tries to pull back. You don’t let him. You hold him like he’s something precious. Like he’s not a weapon but a wounded man.

"And the things that worried you?" you murmur. "You can ask. Anytime."

He blinks, confused, wary.

"The work call? Emergency. Client’s server crashed, they needed help fast." "The store trip? You were out of the only brand of hot cocoa you’ll drink and didn’t want to make a big deal out of it." "The dentist? Toothache. Temporary crown."

Bucky’s mouth opens, shuts.

"You don’t have to spiral alone," you say, your voice breaking just a little. "Not when you have me. Let me be the place where you’re safe, too."

It’s not an order. It’s not a plea. It’s a gift, wrapped in love.

And slowly—achingly—he takes it.

That night, he falls asleep with you tucked against his chest, your heartbeat lulling him into dreams where nothing—nothing—could go wrong.

It’s not immediate. Healing never is.

But you start telling him about every change before he can even notice.

“Hey, babe, I’m going to grab groceries—should be back in an hour. I’ll avoid the crowd.” “Gotta take a call during lunch today—promise it’s just one.” “Dentist again, unfortunately. Wish me luck."

Each casual announcement chips away at the old paranoia, like sunlight slowly melting winter ice.

And when, one night, you roll away from him in your sleep, Bucky only smiles into the darkness, knowing you’ll drift back sooner or later. Knowing you love him. Knowing he can trust you.

He’s free, for the first time, from the war inside his own head. Because you chose him. Because you stayed.

Because sometimes, love isn’t about not noticing the little things. It’s about trusting that they’ll always lead you back home.

To each other.

Always.

BONUS SCENE

You’re curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, when Bucky sits beside you with a suspicious gleam in his eye.

“What?” you laugh, leaning into his side.

He just grins, pulling something from behind his back—a neatly wrapped box, tied with an absurdly perfect bow.

“For you.”

You narrow your eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Bucky says, suspiciously casual. "Just... saw something and thought of you."

You carefully untie the bow and lift the lid. Inside, nestled in delicate tissue paper, are products you recognize immediately: the brand-new moisturizer you’d been thinking about buying but hadn’t mentioned out loud, the serum you lingered over in Sephora but never picked up, the cleanser you bookmarked three nights ago in your browser and then forgot.

You blink. And blink again.

"Bucky... how did you...?"

He shrugs, sheepish, scratching the back of his neck like he’s been caught.

"I just... notice things." You stare at him, stunned.

"You always spend three extra seconds on your moisturizer when you don't love it," he says, cheeks pinkening. "You get this little crease between your eyebrows when your skin feels dry. And you kept hovering over your phone lately when you were online shopping but never actually bought anything, so I... figured I'd help."

The words come out like a confession. Like he's worried you’ll think it's too much.

Instead, you feel your heart absolutely shatter with love.

You set the box down and launch yourself into his lap, cupping his face in your hands. "You’re unreal," you whisper against his mouth. Bucky smiles—really smiles, all teeth and crinkling eyes—and kisses you like he’s breathing you in.

"You deserve the best," he murmurs between kisses. "Always."

You pull back just enough to whisper, "You already give me that. Every single day."

Later, you sit between his legs, your back against his chest, while he watches in awe as you try the new products—like it's some kind of sacred ritual. He kisses your shoulder every time you smile.

And you think: If noticing the little things is how he loves... then you’ll never let him forget how much you adore being seen.

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Taglist: @avengersfan25,@doilooklikeagiveafrack, @hits-different-cause-its-you, @fallen-w1ngs, @angelsoftbear

[llyfrenfys]

I cannot stress this enough -

I forage - partially as something I'm interested in and partially because I need to (cost of living wheeee) and the amount of ignorance of basic safety when foraging is staggering.

Anyway - here's some top tips for foraging safely:

- Only pick one leaf/stem/flower etc. at a time. Do not grab large handfuls as the chances of gathering the wrong plant / a potentially toxic or life threatening plant are high.

- Newbie foragers: Never forage from the carrot family. Just don't. The risk of poisoning yourself to getting a kinda meh plant is like 9:1.

- Check if the area where you forage has a history of metal mining. Especially if you forage near an abandoned mine or body of water, such as a lake, reservoir, stream or river. It's very possible there's metal contamination in the soil and water that makes it unsafe. E.g. I live in West Wales, where there's been silver mines and lead mines operating since the time of the ancient Romans. Documentary came out this year on the BBC about people growing vegetables in their garden in Wales and getting lead poisoning from the crops. Pretty sure the documentary is still on Iplayer.

- NEVER forage right next to a road or railway line. Especially if it's a busy road. Trust me - I know why this might seem an attractive option. Have you ever noticed that forageable plants grow super fast and big near roads? This is a danger - as car fumes are absorbed by the plants and this can lead to the plants becoming polluted. Last year, I had to stop a family taking their son to forage blackberries next to not one, but two level crossings AND next to a busy A-Road.

I completely get it if you're desperate - I've been there and am there. But I've gotten sick from it, even when I was being careful. Most forgaing guides say to keep a very wide berth of roads. Use your own discretion and find safer plants to forage from. A windy country lane that sees maybe 2 or 3 cars a day is a lot safer than a dual carriageway.

There are other safety concerns to bear in mind, but these are a good place to start. Do good research, keep yourselves safe. And happy foraging.

i hate that concerns about urban gardening/foraging safety is often met with "What are you, a cop?" scorn. I believe it's a suspicion of anything that hinders the punk/anti-system urgency to jump in immediately and do whatever feels right.

Safety, ethics, and sustainability are all a part of urban gardening and foraging. I'm sorry that means you need to do homework before you can do anything, I know that sounds lame. But life is complicated.

I know anti-intellectualism is viewed as activist these days, but like, surely you don't want to literally eat lead, right?

[prythianpages]

If Only | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | Azriel is there to comfort you after winnowing you both from Day Court.

a/n: This is pt 9 & takes place right after you asked Azriel to take you away, approx 3.3K words. Also, I have no idea how maternity care goes in Prythian, given we got little insight with Feyre so I'm just going with whatever I can think of lol. This is kind of a bit of filler part but we do get a little gender reveal in this <3

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope, reader has a panic attack

Behind you, you heard the sound of Eris breaking.

Not aloud. Not with screams or fists or flame.

But you felt it through the bond.

The wind kissed your cheeks as Azriel’s shadows dispersed, having winnowed you away from the room you stood in. You landed in a clearing somewhere deep in a forest. The canopy of the trees above swayed and you could hear the faint sounds of insects chirping and buzzing. 

It sounded peaceful…and you were anything but.

Azriel released you slowly, his arms hesitant. They remained extended around you, in case you stumbled. He was speaking but you couldn’t make sense of his words, your arms wrapping around your stomach. Your body curled in on itself as if you could hide from the emotions screaming through the bond.

Desperation, longing, regret. 

All his.

It felt like a dam had opened inside of you, Eris’s emotions and pain crashing through to you in intense waves. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Azriel’s shadows danced around you, swirling anxiously like they wanted to help but didn’t know how. He rubbed the back of his neck, his face twisted with guilt. He could only blame himself for your current state. He had been the one to let your secret slip.

A single shadow brushed against your arms. It grounded you back to the present, making you straighten up and look at Azriel.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him say through the pounding in your ears.  “I didn’t know he didn’t… I assumed, I never would've—”

You shook your head, biting your lip. That was the least of your worries. Yes, you were upset Azriel had told Eris. You weren’t planning on telling Eris, you didn’t know how. But maybe, deep down, part of you wondered if Eris finding out had been inevitable. Maybe even necessary. And if that was true, maybe there was some small silver lining to be found in it all.

You were so confused. You wanted to cry. You didn’t know what to think, what to feel.  

You had wanted Eris to find you. You’d imagined him coming, falling to his knees, begging for you back. And when he finally did, amber eyes burning with torment, you hesitated.

Why?

You loved Eris–still love him. But…no matter how much you loved him, love alone didn’t erase what he had done. You were hurt, left aching and angry. His rejection had hollowed something out in you.

Did he want you? Or was it the bond? Was it the child?

You’d heard the stories—how mating bonds could make males possessive, even obsessive. Some believed the magic behind them was tied to legacy and bloodlines, to the power of offspring. 

Was that what brought him back?

A wave of nausea rose in your throat.

Or worse—what if he meant it? What if he truly loved you, and you had just walked away from the only chance you had at a family? At mending what had broken?

You had been prepared to do this alone, facing every single fear and pushing forward on your own. But preparing to face motherhood alone was different from actually doing it.

And you didn’t want to do this alone. 

Eris’s emotions were raw and unguarded, still pouring through the bound and flooding your senses. They bled into your own until you couldn’t tell where his began and yours ended. It was too much. 

The tears finally came down. 

Your knees buckled and Azriel caught you in an instant. The moment his arms wrapped around you, you let yourself fall apart. Your hands were balled into fists against his chest, face buried into his leathers as your body shook with the sobs you had held back for too long. 

Everything spilled out. You cried for the love you felt, for the pain, for the fear of raising a child in the middle of a storm you hadn’t meant to start. You cried for the past you couldn’t return to and the future that now felt like a cliff’s edge…

“Take me back,” you were suddenly whispering. “Az, take me back.”

But there was no confidence or certainty in your tone. Even Azriel could pick up on it.

“Y/n.” His voice was low, grounding. His hands came to your face, lifting it gently. Thumbs swept away the tears streaking down your cheeks. “Breathe,” he instructed softly.

Your chest tightened, the air caught in your lungs as panic rose again. “What if I made the wrong choice?” you gasped, your eyes wide, your pulse frantic beneath your skin.

Azriel’s heart twisted with guilt and sympathy. “Hey,” he murmured, bringing you back to him. “Nothing is final. Just breathe with me.”

His eyes met yours, urging you to focus as he inhaled slowly. You followed his lead, the two of you exhaling together. One breath. Then another. 

“Don’t make any rash decisions now,” he continued, his voice calm in an attempt to soothe you further. “You’re safe. Your baby is safe. If you want to return to him after, I’ll take you to him myself. But for now, keep breathing with me, okay?”

Azriel was right. The bond between you and Eris was loud and confusing. And you didn’t trust your own thoughts when they weren’t fully yours. All you knew for certain was that the child growing inside you didn’t deserve to be born into chaos. It needed some clarity, some stability.

“I don’t want to do this alone,” you said, voice trembling.

Azriel’s hand moved to cradle the back of your head, gently bringing your forehead to rest against his shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

You wanted to believe him. By the Cauldron, you wanted to. But anxiety rose again like a wave, cresting too fast. “I don’t have anywhere to go…” 

You thought you’d had more time to plan. You hadn’t expected for Eris to turn up so suddenly. All the money you’d been saving from selling your jewelry, your belongings…it was all still in Day. You had nothing with you now.

“I know a place you can stay.”

**

Your feet touched the ground and though it was more comfortable winnowing with Azriel’s shadows, it still left you a bit disoriented. Some of his shadows stayed with you, soothing you gently. You blinked your vision clear, finding yourself standing in front of tall, iron gates.

Azriel touched the handle and after a moment, the gates opened on their own. He turned to you, motioning for you to go first. As you walked past the gates of the estate, you were immediately hit with the sweet scent of roses. Beautiful blue roses were in full bloom, their petals catching glimmers of the fading twilight. 

The house beyond the blooms was quaint and modest in size, despite the amount of land surrounding it. You didn’t know who the house belonged to, having trusted Azriel completely. But you could tell whoever lived here built this home with love.

A low meow pulled your attention to the side. A small black kitten darted from behind a bush and rubbed against Azriel’s leg, its bright eyes blinking up in slow adoration at him. He chuckled softly and crouched to greet it. Shadows slipped from his shoulders and gently patted the kitten’s head, coaxing it into a playful chase. 

When you looked back up, you noticed more cats lounging in the garden, their curious eyes blinking back at you. The door to the house opened before you could reach it.

A tall woman stepped onto the porch, her wings smaller but unmistakably Illyrian. She was strikingly beautiful. Long, dark hair fell in soft waves down her back, and those familiar hazel eyes were framed by a face that mirrored Azriel’s. They had to be related and you could only assume this was his mother.

Her gaze found the male beside you, her face brightening. 

“My son,” she breathed, confirming your thoughts. She rushed down the steps and wrapped him in a tight, fierce hug.

You watched as he melted into her embrace. Since you’d known him, you’d never seen him look so at peace. His shoulders dropped, and his arms wrapped tightly around her in return. It brought tears to your eyes—tears you quickly looked away from. 

Here I go crying again, you thought. You hoped your child would look at you the way Azriel looked at his mother.

When she pulled back, she gave Azriel a lingering, affectionate pat on the arm before turning toward you. Her smile was still warm but a little curious now.

“Hello, I’m Rosanna,” she greeted, extending her hand. “You must be Morrigan.”

You felt Azriel tense beside you. You offered a small, polite smile, even as your cheeks heated. “Um, no.”

“Oh!” Rosanna blinked, then laughed, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry. Elain, then?”

“Also no,” you said, shaking her hand. “I’m Y/n.”

There was a flicker of something in her expression. Not judgment, just… interest and a mild surprise. And then she was smiling again, genuinely. Her other hand came to rest on top of yours, enveloping it in its warmth.

“Y/n,” she repeated, as if tasting the name. “It’s lovely to meet you. Forgive me. Azriel’s never brought a girl here before but I’ve heard of plenty–”

“Mother,” Azriel said, interrupting her with a slight wince. “Can I talk to you in private?”

Rosanna nodded and beckoned you both inside. You followed hesitantly, your fingers twitching at your sides. You felt awkward and out of place all of a sudden. And somehow, they both sensed it—Rosanna, who gave you a reassuring nod, and Azriel, whose shadows gently nudged the small of your back.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Rosanna said kindly. “Would you like tea? Or warm milk?”

“I’m okay,” you murmured and after more reassuring, they disappeared into the kitchen.

The inside of the house was as lovely as the garden that surrounded it. The furniture didn’t exactly match yet it went well together. A soft, knitted blanket was draped over the back of the couch, and a few well-loved books sat stacked beside a reading chair.

Your eyes caught on a framed painting above the fireplace.

It was unmistakably the work of a child. Two stick figures with wings—one tall with long hair, holding the hand of a smaller one. Wisps of black trailed from the smaller figure’s wings. In blue paint, scrawled beneath them: I love you mom.

Your heart clenched, mouth forming a silent “awe.”  You turned away before you could cry again and sank onto the couch. A couple of minutes passed as you sat there, watching the shadows lengthen across the walls, before Azriel returned.

“So,” you said, rising to your feet. “You must have a lot of girls, huh?”

“She was exaggerating,” Azriel replied with a casual shrug but his ears flushed slightly.

You found it too amusing to let it go. “Sure she was,” you said, dragging out the words with a small smile. “Most males don't have a lineup long enough to confuse their own mother. Sounds like player behavior…”

Azriel’s shadows danced around his shoulders in a teasing manner, almost like they were agreeing along with you. He gave them an accusing glance, swatting at them. “I’m not,” he said with a small huff.

“Well, player or not, I hope your love life is faring much better than mine,” you said.

Azriel was quiet for a beat too long.

“It’s not,” he then admitted.

“Oh,” your smile immediately dropped, taken off guard. “Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, gaze dropping. “I do get a bit of female attention but...I have a habit of falling for the ones I can’t have.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. His shadows curled around him like they were trying to comfort him, so different to the way they had been moving earlier. You had no idea you were both hurting in different ways and suddenly you felt bad.

Azriel has been such a good friend to you–your only friend, actually. And now you felt like you had neglected your end of the friendship that been brewing between you, too caught up in your heartache to notice his.

Before you could say something meaningful—or worse, sappy—you heard Rosanna’s voice call from the kitchen.

“Come on, you two! There's some tea and also sweet bread…I heard it pairs well with troubled hearts!”

You and Azriel blinked at each other, the same small, understanding smile tugging at both your lips. “She’s not wrong,” he murmured. “Her bread does make one feel better.”

**

Azriel had excused himself after finishing the entirety of his mother's sweet bread, earning a small scolding from her for not leaving any leftovers for tomorrow's breakfast.

That’s when you found out he didn’t live here with his mother but in another city within the Night Court. He would return in a couple of days with a healer to properly assess you. Before leaving, he had also assured you that no magic could trace you back to this place. Wards had been layered here by his High Lord himself, all to protect his mother—and now, you.

Rosanna had been nothing but kind and welcoming, but after learning this was her sanctuary, that intruding feeling crept back in. You were a pregnant stranger with a confused heart and a million fears. Of course, she had assured you that she didn’t mind, adding in that she longed for some company.

The days of waiting for Azriel to return passed slowly. You kept to yourself at first, making yourself as inconspicuous as possible in Rosanna’s space. You took to speaking only when spoken to, offering polite smiles and helping with small tasks around the estate. 

Rosanna didn’t seem to mind your silence. In fact, she had a way of making space for you without demanding anything in return. She had a few quirks that reminded you of Azriel. You found it endearing and her warmth infectious.

Then, just as promised, Azriel returned with a healer, a female with warm eyes and silver streaks in her hair. 

The moment you saw her, panic and worry stirred in your chest. You hadn’t had a single official check-up. You didn’t even know how far along you were. And there had been so many sleepless nights, clutched around the ache in your chest, thinking of what you had lost and everything you were now responsible for.

What if your sadness had soaked into the child? What if your heartache had done something wrong?

“Y/n, this is Madja.” Azriel said as he approached where you sat on the bed.  “She’s the best there is. She’s brought me back from the brink of death more times than I’d like to admit.”

Madja arched a brow and gave Azriel a dry look. “And yet somehow, he still insists on throwing himself into danger like it’s a paid hobby.” 

“Because it kind of is.” Azriel replied with some humor in his hazel eyes. “Perks of being the Night Court’s spymaster and all.”

“Perks,” Rosanna said with a huff, both her and Madja fixing him with identical unimpressed stares. Even his shadows paused mid-drift, their inky tendrils hovering above him in silent judgment. If your nerves weren’t on edge, you might’ve laughed at the scene before you.

Then, Madja turned to you with a small smile. “May I?” She asked, motioning to the space next to your bed.

You nodded, unsure if your voice would work even if you tried. Azriel and Rosanna took the cue to excuse themselves, slipping quietly out of the room to give you privacy.

Madja sat next to you, her movements steady and practiced. She pulled out some ointment from her worn leather bag before settling it down on the floor. She gave you a kind look, the kind only time and experience could carve into a healer’s face.

“You’ll feel some pressure,” she said as she applied a bit of the glowing salve to her hand. “But it shouldn’t hurt.”

You forced a breath into your lungs. “Okay,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. You couldn’t tell if your heart was pounding from fear or excitement or something in between.

Madja motioned for you to sit back and you followed her instructions, lifting your gown up to expose your stomach to her. She placed a firm hand on your stomach and you could feel her magic pulse beneath her fingertips, a warm sensation spreading over you. 

There was a beat of silence. Then another.

Then—movement.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had felt your baby move before but not like this. This felt stronger than the usual, delicate flutter you’d feel every now and then. 

“There,” Madja said softly. “Did you feel that?”

You nodded again, stunned. The life inside of you, moving eagerly beneath Madja’s touch. Your baby was very much alive and growing. Maybe, just maybe, despite all your sadness, your baby was okay.

But then Madja’s expression shifted. Her brows furrowed faintly and your heart skipped a beat.  “What is it?” you asked, fearing the worst.

Madja didn’t answer at first. She was still, palm still flat to your belly. Her gaze was distant as if she was sensing something. She exhaled slowly, her eyes lifting to meet yours.

“The babe has fire in their blood.”

“What…," you struggled with the right words, too many worrying thoughts clouding your mind. "What does that mean?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she said carefully. “But to feel that kind of magic pulsing through this early…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes moved over you again, her gaze calculating. “It means the baby will be strong and gifted. Like the—”

Madja stopped herself, sensing your growing unease.

But she didn’t need to finish. Like the father, she was going to say. Like–like Eris.

Madja hadn’t known but she knew it was not you who was able to wield fire. There was no reason to tell her about the father. Or at least, you didn’t think there’d be. You could see it click into place for her, who the father must be, for the child to radiate that kind of power. Her eyes lingered on yours with a silent understanding.

“As for your progress,” she continued, shifting her tone to something lighter, more clinical, though the wary look hadn’t left her eyes, “you’re nearly at the halfway mark.”

Your thoughts reeled, scrambling for the math. Your heart plummeted as your suspicions were confirmed. It was that night. The night Eris broke your heart. The night he pushed you away and you’d been too distraught to remember the tonic the following morning.

You swallowed hard, the ache pressing behind your eyes. 

“But the baby is okay, right?”

“Oh, yes.” Madja’s nod was immediate, certain enough to ease some of the weight off your chest. She pressed her hand a little more, and your baby stirred again in response. A soft, gentle smile curved her lips. “Would you like to know the gender?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” you echoed in wonder, tears pricking your eyes.

You were having a girl. A daughter. 

You could already imagine her, soft and perfect, curled in your arms. You felt yourself smile, even as tears slipped free. The words lit something in your chest. Something so tender and bright. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this–this moment of peace and hope. 

You were so overwhelmed with emotion that you hadn’t realized you’d sent them down through the bond until you felt a response. A tug. Eris. You felt the flicker of his confusion, maybe even concern.

Your chest tightened, your hand resting protectively over your stomach. Would he be as happy as you were, knowing the life you carried inside was a daughter?

a/n: I debated on waiting on revealing the gender until reader gave birth but decided why wait? Eris, however, can wait a little longer to know. How do we think he'd react to a daughter?

I dropped some hints for the next part 👀

Also, I am just as bad as SJM with names, so I figured Az's mom name should be related to Rose, considering she lives in Rosehall. Hope you enjoyed me including Az & his mom being cat lovers ❤️

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

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@sunny1616, @holb32, @gamarancianne, @daemyratwst, @ratgirl2020 @balufy

[possesseddesiress]

Skinfit

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Skinfit

My name is Tristan, I study economics in college. My dream since I was a teenager was to be part of a fraternity, to live with other guys, to form lifelong friendships, and even to be popular.

And of course, to see a lot of muscular guys, but those are other details that I discovered later. But my "average" looks and my almost null sports skills, left me completely out of the fraternities. So I could only hope for a shared room.

I was lucky to find Zachary, a very nice guy. I thought having a jock as a roommate would be chaotic, smelly and even dirty, but Zach wasn't like that.

He was pretty organized and clean, sometimes he would come in stinking of sweat and leave his clothes all over the room, but it was only when he came in tired from his workout, took a shower, picked everything up and it was like nothing had happened.

Besides, I don't complain about his scent at all... Intoxicating, penetrating, extremely masculine, and completely out of my league.

He was straight, never brought girls to the house but it was well known around campus how successful he was with girls. He was a good friend, but geez... how many times hadn't I had vivid dreams about him (that would never come true).

- Lately the light has been failing, a false contact in the bathroom light - I whispered as I took a sip from my coffee cup.

- Really? - he asked, wearing his purple compression shirt - I've hardly been home, sorry mate - he gave a sigh, though then seemed to have an idea - I know! You remember I took an electrical course, don't you? I could try to fix it, I don't think it would be that hard would it?

- Dude, really?

- Sure! I must have my tools forgotten somewhere in my room, but anything for you, buddy - he patted me on the back before going to get something from his room.

He returned shortly after. To which we both went into the bathroom.

- Are you sure you know what you're doing?

- Yes, I sometimes skipped classes in the course but I think I know the basics.

He set up a chair so he could repair the ceiling light, removed the bulb and began to move the electrical inlet carefully.

- Don't you want us to call a technician?

- Dude! Trust me, besides, we can save several dollars, trust me, look, I think I found the problem.

He placed the tip of his tool on the metal, moved it a little and at first nothing happened. Until it sparked.

The sound of electricity chilled my skin as Zach let out a choked scream, his body trembled violently without being able to break free. I swallowed nervously. I didn't know what to do, so I did the best thing I could think of: push him.

As soon as I touched it, electricity ran through my nerves as well, it was an intense pain from head to toe, but thanks to the momentum, I ended up knocking it down and cutting off the power.

Everything went dark for a second, and then I lost myself.

Soon after I opened my eyes, I felt my head hurting, my body numb and heavy. Things were blurry all around me, and everything was dark.

- Shit...

I mumbled, touching the floor, getting up with difficulty though staggering in the process. I placed my hands against the tile, feeling a strange force in my hands.

I stood up, moving darkly around the room.

- Zach? Are you...?

Before I finished the sentence, I realized something wasn't right.

My voice felt different, deep, more... masculine? My original voice wasn't high-pitched, but it wasn't this deep, I almost felt it echoed loudly every time I opened my lips.

I touched my throat, feeling a thick adam's apple. What was going on? For a moment I stopped thinking about Zach, staggered out of the room until I advanced to my own, then I saw the reflection.

- What... what the hell?

The reflection that greeted me was Zach's, mimicking my every move. For a moment I felt fear, almost panic, but then I looked at those fat pecs.

They were mine now.

I was full of muscle! I stroked my new muscles, how good my biceps felt wrapped in the tight purple fabric.

I flexed my muscles, widening my arms and enjoying how my pecs felt, even how the reliefs stuck against my T-shirt, making me let out a gasp.

Was Zach so sensitive to such an area?

It was like letting go of my senses all at once, I kneaded and squeezed my pecs hard, letting out a loud gasp. I went crazy for a while, stroking everywhere, every mound of muscle.

I reached down to my pants. Pulling the elastic to observe what was hiding inside.

- Not bad... - I smiled - I can see why you're such a hit with the ladies, dude. Just look at the size of this thing.

I sniffed with some force, which caused a wide, loud gasp that I'm sure was heard throughout the building.

I lifted my armpit to smell it, I loved the scent... And now it was mine! How many times had I dreamed of smelling it, and now it was within my complete reach! I stuck my nose again and again, filling my whole nose with sweat.

I gasped awkwardly, like a teenager with raging hormones.

I stopped touching myself for a moment to run out to Zach's room, I loved feeling my strong legs, how each footstep echoed with weight and force across the floor.

I opened the closet to start pulling out different clothes. Although there was a larger amount of t-shirts, lycra and other sportswear, so I decided to take off what was intruding between my eager hands and my dreamy body.

I weighed my fat pectorals, changed my shirt and put on a white one that was even tighter, and flexed my arms.

It was like feeling in the glory...

It had been at least five months after the change. And I couldn't be happier about it.

At first Zach, or now I should say Tristan, had a hard time getting used to the change, always complaining that he didn't want to be in that body, that he wanted to change back.

He tried again and again to recreate the accident to return us to our original bodies. But I wasn't at all interested in going back to who I was before.

I loved the way I looked now. How others were interested in me, the fact that getting anywhere, got everyone's attention. How good my body looked in tight sportswear.

And best of all: How I attracted the attention of the fraternities.

I don't understand why Zachary didn't join any of them as soon as he entered college, he was the perfect himbo to be a brother! Within mere weeks in his body, I ended up joining one of the most important and exclusive fraternities on campus.

And I loved it.

Almost every weekend there were parties, sweaty smells, and guys walking shirtless through the halls every day. It was like heaven. And best of all, no one knew that the new Zach was actually me.

Everyone was surprised for a while at how self-centered I turn out to be, how obsessed I was with my scent, or even the change from straight to gay.

Because what I loved most about this body was how guys drooled over me, I could have anyone in the palm of my hand even.

Barely five months in and I had already been with almost every guy in the frat (some "curious", some with their sexuality under wraps and some who just wanted to have a good time), I was living what as Tristan wouldn't have happened even on my best day.

Now it was Zach, full of muscles, tight clothes that left nothing to the imagination and with such an intoxicating aroma...

Anyway. I'd have a costume party in less than an hour, the good thing about being Zach now was that whatever I wore, it would look good on me.

And I could let my nerdy tastes out. All in all, I looked hot.

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[burrowkit]

Okay, let’s try this on mobile, as usual-

Trigger warning, it gets dark. And messy.

My best friend. My absolute soul best friend. All of them, they were bound to my soul. They’d dragged me out of my personal Tartarus. They helped me turn from the dark to the light. A healer, instead of a killer.

Not that I ever had a chance to be a killer. My friends were there, ever guiding me away from those cursed texts. And now, with them gone… their fragments of their soul still eternally bound to me.

A promise we made, years ago. That we would always be with each other. From this life to the next.

“You just weren’t that good of a healer, kid,” The General informs me. We never did get his name.

He seems content to be relegated to being a title. One that makes him more ominous.

Fiona, my sweet Fiona, I think, brushing the last strands of her hair behind her ear. Nearby is the shredded remnants of Theodore.

Our mage, Isabella, because Isabella sounded cooler that her birth name, Keith. We had always reminded her that we loved her for who she is, not what she can do. Not what she looked like. Not the names that defined her past.

And Toni.

Sweet Toni.

Our leader. The one who was so determined we could safely spy on our enemies without being spotted.

They were wrong. We all were.

“It’s your turn, healer,” he warns me. I’m not afraid.

No, because I have the power of five souls, intertwined with love.

Because I will die, ensuring their deaths did not go in vain.

I cannot bring them back to life, their bodies too far gone. The General made sure of that. Made sure I could never mend their bodies enough for necromancy, not that the sweet little healer would ever know necromancy.

No, there’s a few necromancers that’ll bring the dead back for a pretty penny.

He doesn’t know what I can do.

He doesn’t know what my friends begged me to keep as our last resort.

And truly, we are the last resort. There’s no one left to stand against The General and his armies. Not for another few generations. This is our last chance.

And I’ll make them pay. In blood. In death. In life.

I force myself to stand, feeling shaky as I stare up at the monster. His eyes seemingly glow more red than should be natural. Many have suggested he kills in battle to preserve his own damned soul. His own decaying body.

“You’re right, General,” my voice is soft. Quiet. Barely making an echo in this world. “I’m not that great of a healer,” I admit, my voice growing stronger as the ancient texts, embedded to the backs of my eyelids, seemingly flash in front of my eyes with every blink. “And it is my turn,” I force myself to grin. The darkness urging me on. No, not just the darkness. My friends.

My family. The only ones who cared enough to keep me from stumbling too far from my own body. And now, I’ll risk it all just to keep them here another day. Another hour. Another second. I can feel the tears welling up in my tear ducts, but I refuse to cry. Not now.

I can do that after I get revenge, but not now.

The General grins at me. I can see the shimmers of magic as he tries to reap my friends’ souls. I watch the confusion as he’s unable to pick them up. To add their lifetimes to his. Instead, their souls seem to gather behind me. Helping me stand.

Helping me face the great evil.

“I’m so glad you’re prepared to meet our makers,” he informs me. Grinning. He pulls his sword back, preparing to slice my own head off.

He freezes as I wave my right hand. He lets out a strangled cry, as he finds himself magically bound.

“You mistake me, General,” I spare a glance at the battlefield. I wave me hand once more, freezing the rest of his decayed army in place. “It is my turn. To attack, not to die. I believe it’s your turn, to die,” I don’t let my voice tremble. I start him down.

The magic whispers, telling me the army could be mine. Instead, I whisper back, telling the army to disappear.

They do.

Poof.

Gone.

They cease to exist.

They don’t slump to the ground. They don’t bleed out. No, the few stranglers in the city’s army, the last members to stand against the great evil, stare at shock at their foe being vanquished.

The General’s mouth drops slowly. It’s all he can do, bound as tightly as he is.

I tilt my head slightly at him, watching him carefully. “Fiona was my rock. She kept me from ever falling to the dark. She kept me from straying too far away from being a healer. And when I slid, she always caught me,” I motion at Fiona.

Her body is also disintegrating. With no soul in a bound body, the body is falling apart.

I wave at Theo next. “Theo was the big brother we all needed. Always there to watch our backs. Always kept any unwanted people from getting too close. He indulged my dalliances into the dark, always with conditions,” I smile softly at the memory.

Of me finding new dark books. Theo always there, lending a hand, always ready to fetch Fiona to pull be back.

“Isabella taught me so many defence spells. You know, in case I, as the healer, needed to defend myself from harm. I wish she could have seen how many times I used them to guard Theo’s back in our wanderings,” I continue. Reminiscing.

“And Toni, our fearless leader,” I sigh. “They always had the plan. The information. They somehow had a third and fourth eye when it came to everything. So maybe… maybe they knew this was the outcome. Maybe doing this is okay…” I trail off, staring at their bodies. All of them.

Their souls nudge me softly, reminding me that a healer can come from the darkest of paths.

That I, myself, was once a master of soul magic. That I once knew how to steal the life of someone to bolster my own lifespan.

It also means I know exactly how to undo it.

I move both hands in front of me, and break an imaginary stick.

The General screams in pain, many of his bones shattered in an instant.

The binding spell is gone. I don’t need that, not for what I plan to do.

The sky turns a deep red, as if someone turned the atmosphere to fire.

I hear many of the few citizens gasp. They flee, having likely been pre-warned by Toni.

Oh Toni, you thought of everything, didn’t you.

Except how I would live without you all…

I take the air, watching slices appear on The General’s skin. One has to slowly break apart the body to free the stolen souls.

Slowly, so slowly, I can see some of them escaping. They whisper to my friends’ souls.

I can’t hear their words, nothing but my own friends’. Their comforting words and encouragements. To help draw the stolen lives from this… monster.

He could survive it. Realistically, it’s plausible. But for his transgressions, I won’t allow it.

Never.

I’ll hide ever book regarding this magic. Ensure it’ll never be found again.

I would burn the books, if I thought that would keep their secrets. Still, there’s always a chance the information could be stumbled upon.

The books could help undo this damage.

I gash the air once more, grinning as he cries in pain.

“Hello, ancient one,” I greet, his stolen mask crumbling. I hadn’t realized he’d used souls to hide his true face.

“You,” he gasps, voice croaking with pain. He pants, as if this is the hardest battle he’s ever been in.

It probably is.

I drop my own mask. The one I crafted a decade ago. When I was reborn in this body, with my friends. “You killed my friends, you don’t deserve an easy death,” I whisper.

I gather the magic I was told never to use.

And I drop it all on him.

He screams for hours, his last day meant to torment him to his true death.

“Farewell, cousin. Shall we never meet again!”

And I drive his own sword into his heart, ending his torment.

Maybe a last bit of mercy before eternity of torture.

Maybe just ending it early to hurry up his attainment of pain.

I’m not sure.

All I know, is I abused too much.

My friends’ souls beg me to hold on.

I can’t.

Not without them.

“To the next life, forever bound,” I whisper as I collapse on the ground.

I feel their souls settle down next to mind.

“To the next life,” they whisper in return.

You were the healer—the last light of your party. But now your final ally dies in your arms, and there’s no one left to save. The enemy jeers, calling you useless. You look up, eyes hollow and black. The light is gone. The Void answers. You're no longer a cleric. You're something far worse.

[tsunodaradio]

it’s a bad idea, right? ⛐ 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

and that’s when it settles in your chest, slow and final: nothing is ever going to happen with you and yuki tsunoda.

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda x reader. ꔮ word count: 5.8k. ꔮ includes: smut, romance, hurt/comfort. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. playboy!yuki, fuck buddies -ish, set mostly in faenza, second chance romance. title from olivia rodrigo’s song of the same name. ꔮ commentary box: kicking off yuki week with this fic, which was inspired by two separate anon asks i got asking for a playboy yuki fic and doing it in the car with him,, it took me a minute, but i gotchu both 🤙 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The bass is thudding so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Faenza is humid in the way northern Italian towns get in early summer. Thick, wine-sweet air that clings to your bare shoulders and curls the edges of your mascara. You’re out with friends, but only technically. You’re half-listening to something Chiara is saying about her boss, half-watching your phone light up for the third time in two minutes.

Tsunoda (DNI ❌❌❌) is calling.

You press your lips together. The screen flashes again.

Missed call.

Missed call.

Another one.

Chiara leans over your shoulder, eyes narrowing. “Seriously? You're not answering that, are you?”

You lock your phone like it’s burning you. “Of course not. I blocked him. Emotionally. That contact name is legally binding.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And yet…” she drawls, just as your phone buzzes with a text. 

Tsunoda (DNI ❌❌❌) [1:43 AM]:  new place. come over? 

Then, a minute later, just an address. No emoji. No punctuation. Just coordinates to the next bad decision.

You stare at it too long. The message glows coldly in the dark bar, like it knows it’s going to win. Your friends order another round. You tell them you’re going to the bathroom, even though you’re not.

Even though you’re already halfway to the cab.

The city looks different at night, looks like it might actually do a halfway good job of keeping your secrets. Yuki’s new place is tucked behind a bakery. The kind of apartment you’d never find unless you were meant to. 

There’s a single light on in the upstairs window. You climb the stairs slowly, deliberately, praying for the audacity to stop halfway. 

You don’t. 

Yuki opens the door before you knock.

He’s in a hoodie, barefoot, holding a can of beer like he hasn’t just set a trap and waited for you to fall into it. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“You came,” he says. It's not a question.

You cross your arms, leaning in the doorway. “I shouldn’t have.”

He shrugs. “You always say that.”

You step inside anyway.

The apartment smells like laundry detergent and takeout. There’s an open window with a breeze threading through it, warm and restless. His team jacket’s slung over a chair. You recognize it. Same one from Barcelona, the last time you said never again.

Yuki leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. He’s watching you like he’s trying not to smile. “So... how've you been?” he drawls, taking a quick swig of his drink. 

You scoff. “Cut the small talk. You texted. I’m here. Let’s not pretend this is anything new.”

He nods. Of course he agrees. Of course he knows pretending is the worst part.

The real worst part is the way he looks at you. Like you’re a habit he hasn’t kicked, like maybe he doesn’t want to. You kick off your heels, pad towards his bedroom. He follows without a word. 

You sit on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. “I mean it this time,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “This is the last time.”

Yuki sits beside you, close enough to touch. Close enough that you know exactly how this ends. “Sure,” he says.

He doesn’t sound like he believes you. 

And when he leans in, lips alcohol-slick and warm against your neck, you’re not convinced you believe yourself either. 

It started in the off-season, when the air in Faenza tasted like frost. Yuki had been spotted more often than usual. Trailing out of coffee shops in beanies pulled low, parked in his trainer’s car outside the gym, laughing too loud in the back corner of the wine bar on Via Cavour. Always with someone new. Rarely someone local.

That was his thing, you’d come to learn.

A girl in every city, like postcards he never bothered to send. Always temporary, always transient. The kind of girls who didn’t follow F1, who wouldn’t tag him in blurry Instagram stories, who’d leave before breakfast with nothing but a half-smile and a cab receipt. He was selective, yes—but not shy. Everyone in Faenza knew he had a reputation. No one could prove it.

You met him at a wedding, accidentally seated beside him. He had said your name like it was a secret, like he’d already decided something about you. Blunt and charming, with the kind of posture that read as carelessness but hit like gravity. You told yourself not to take him seriously. That this was just dinner. That he probably wouldn’t even remember you.

But he did.

He texted the next day, finding your number from a friend of a friend.

Then the next.

Then he asked if you wanted to grab a drink, and you said no but showed up anyway. You kissed him first, in the parking lot behind the speakeasy, and he pulled away laughing like he couldn’t believe you’d done it.

You should have walked away when he said, “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” 

You should have known that meant he'd break you differently.

But Yuki had that look, that charm sharpened by a thousand untold stories, and something in you—young, foolish, tired of being careful—wanted to be one of them.

So you let him in.

And now, months later, he still has the key.

The ending of it all starts on a Saturday morning. 

You’re scrolling through your phone, half-awake, wrapped in a blanket on your couch while the kettle hums somewhere in the background. The algorithm feeds you a clip from the paddock. Yuki, post-race, sunglasses pushed up in his hair. Red Bull polo unbuttoned just enough to flash the chrome necklace you’d once unclasped with your teeth.

He’s leaning on a barricade, cocky grin intact, the afternoon sun catching on his cheekbones like a lens flare. He’s answering questions as if they’re a game he’s already won. Something about tire degradation. Something about the car feeling good in Sector 3.

And then someone asks him about his love life.

He laughs. Raises his shoulders in a shrug. 

“I’m focused on racing,” he says smoothly. “Relationships? Maybe when I retire.”

There’s laughter. Even the journalist chuckles, like they never expected anything real.

But you hear it. You hear it in the way he deflects. In the way he performs. Not shy, never awkward—just closed off in that expertly disarming way. You know that tone. You’ve heard it when he’s kissed you with one hand still on his keys.

You watch the clip twice.

Once to catch the details. The second to let it sting.

And that’s when it settles in your chest, slow and final: Nothing is ever going to happen with you and Yuki Tsunoda.

Not really. Not where anyone can see it.

You hadn’t been dumb enough to believe otherwise. Not fully. But it’s still damning to see the controlled blankness on his face, the way he lies through his teeth about things like commitment and focus when his bed is warm in every city he visits.

And so you let your final act of stupidity play out where it all began. His fire-red Honda Civic, unassuming in the otherwise abandoned parking lot of the Palazzo del Podestà.

The windows are fogged, you’re seated in Yuki’s lap, and you know how you want this night to end. 

For now, you indulge it. You enjoy it. The hard planes of his body. The way he’ll mumble cusses in his mother tongue, his voice scratchy against the shell of your ear. The two fingers he curls inside of you as he expertly thumbs at your clit. 

“Missed you,” he mumbles when he finds the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. He presses down hard, drawing an embarrassing whimper from you. “Missed you s’much, baby.” 

No, you want to say. You only missed this, but not me. 

You’re too fucked out to say it out loud, though. You’re only chasing the high that crashes down on you after Yuki has relentlessly readied you with his fingers, the way you’re so dazed that you don’t even register him gently maneuvering you until your back is flush against his chest. 

Neither of you have even bothered much with clothes. It’s like this whenever it’s a quick fuck, a bit of fun before he has to go race circles in some other country. His shirt is halfway on; already rumpled at the skirt as Yuki pushes it just high enough to give himself room to move.

You hear the sound of packaging crinkling, of Yuki slipping on a rubber as you hover on top of him. He groans as he slowly eases you down onto his cock, his arms coiled around your waist in a way that’s more appropriate for lovers than—whatever the hell this is. 

“Bellissima,” he breathes into the space between your shoulder blades, and you sorely wish it didn’t make your heart thump the way that it did. 

Yuki takes control. With him, dominance seems to be half the game. You’re not a stranger to the way he bounces you up and down his length, the way he restrains himself to grunts and an occasional profanity as he bucks his hips up into yours. 

You bite your lip. You breathe through your nose. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto the car seat in front of you, begging your body to not enjoy the feeling too much. Not when you’re about to say what you’re going to say. 

He notices your restraint, notices the way his ministrations are greeted with muffled moans instead of the usual shameless whines. Liquid pleasure shoots down your spine when Yuki nips at the shell of your ear, his voice nothing more than a rasp as he asks, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

What’s wrong is this. All of this. 

“Nothing,” you lie, the word punched out of you as he gives a sharp, punishing, thrust upward.

Yuki’s arm, snaked around your waist, pulls in tighter. The next thing you know, he has his fingers over your oversensitive clit, rubbing the sensitive nub there as he picks up his pace. 

“You’re thinking of something else,” he accuses, sounding almost jealous, “or someone else, hm?” 

A small part of you wishes there was somebody else to picture, absolutely anyone else to imagine. Alas, all you have in your head is Yuki. His dark, unruly hair. His toned arms. His cock twitching inside of you, signaling the nearness of his own climax. 

You don’t mean to say it then. You’d planned to let the rendezvous end, to call it quits once he had pulled up in front of your apartment. But it comes out in the same breath he rips your second orgasm from you, the very moment he shudders and begins to release into the condom around his hardness. 

“We’re done,” you gasp, your knuckles white against the seat in front. “Yuki, we’re—fuck—we’re done.” 

Both of you ride out your respective highs with those words hanging in the air between you. The smell of sex still clings to your skin, humid and unignorable in the tight, dim space of his car. 

Yuki gingerly pulls you off him, shuffling to the other end of the backseat. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him. 

Your head rests against the cool window. Your heart is still racing; your breathing, still a little too hard. Maybe the truth could be outrun if you just kept quiet a little longer.

After two whole minutes that feel like an eternity, Yuki says, “You always say that.”

There’s no bite to it. No smirk. Just something tired in the way he exhales the words.

You stare out the window. The condensation drips slowly down the glass like it’s crying for you. “I mean it this time,” you say, the line perfectly rehearsed and said in a thousand different times, a thousand different ways so far.

In the corner of your eye, you see Yuki throwing you a skeptical glance. Something simmers beneath his gaze, something that seems to scream Don’t bullshit me. 

“Okay,” he simply says, but he doesn’t believe you. He never has. You’ve always come back.

Except tonight, there’s a quiet certainty in your chest. Not sharp. Not angry. It’s… settled. The same way rocks give after waves crash against them enough times.  

“I wish you were different,” you say softly, the words barely above a whisper. Not to hurt him, just because it’s true. “I wish you could give a damn in a way that mattered.”

He flinches a little. Maybe it does hurt after all.

You pull your dress down, pat down your hair. It doesn’t matter what you look like. He’s already seen everything and still never really seen you.

You open the car door, step out on shaky legs. The air smells like wet asphalt and regret, but the street lights gleam as if promising you something better beyond this arrangement. 

Before you shut the door, you lean down and say one last thing: “I hope one day, when you’re ready to be real with someone... you remember I tried.”

You close the door. As you walk off, you don’t look back. 

The days after unfurl gently.

The city wakes slowly in the summer, with streets that stretch under drowsy light and cafés that open just as the mist burns off the tiled rooftops. You fall into a rhythm that feels like something close to peace. Morning espresso at the bar on the corner. Fresh fruit from the old man who still calls you bella. Sun-warmed walks through alleys blooming with hanging flower pots.

You don’t hear from Yuki.

At least, not at first.

Then, the silence cracks.

It starts with a missed call. Then another. Then three more in one evening, all while you’re not doing anything terribly important. 

Tsunoda (DNI ❌❌❌) lights up your phone like a fire alarm, persistent and impossible to ignore. Voicemails you don’t listen to. Texts you read and then immediately delete. 

u up? 

can we talk? 

were you serious? 

cmon, i know you want to. imy. 

You never answer. It’s a siren call you sail past. 

There’s a strange power in the silence you offer him. It startles you, how easy it is to withhold now. Not out of cruelty, but out of clarity. You meant what you said. You walked away. You didn’t leave the door cracked behind you, and it takes Yuki a couple of weeks to realize that. 

Sometimes, the texts come late. Two in the morning. Half past four. Once at sunrise. Maybe he’s drunk. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s realizing what it means to be on the outside.

You don’t care enough to wonder. You leave your phone face down and push it to the far corner of your desk.

Instead, you lean into life: the market on Saturdays, the chill of wine glasses clinking on terraces, the velvet hush of the cinema when the lights go down. Your friends start noticing the change—your posture a little taller, your eyes a little clearer. One even says, You look free.

You smile and mean it.

Of course, there are still whispers. Faenza is small and nosy and always humming with something. Apparently, Yuki’s been seen with a girl from Bologna. A model, someone whispers. Someone says she left the next morning in the same heels she arrived in.

You stir your drink and don’t say anything. It’s not your story anymore.

When his name flits through a conversation like cigarette smoke—sharp and lingering—you let it pass. Let it dissolve. You’ve built walls he can’t scale with just a text and a low laugh.

Sometimes, the race highlights play on the muted TV at the café. You see the familiar flash of the Red Bull logo, the familiar stance of Yuki pacing the paddock. Necklace shimmering in the light. Jumpsuit peeled to the waist. He always looks like he’s walking out of the smoke.

You glance up. And then down.

You don’t linger.

You don’t ache.

You smile at the barista, ask for another espresso. The days move on and so do you.

His season ends without you noticing.

The engines fall quiet, the checkered flags wave one final time, and the world spins on. You stop tracking the races. Stop glancing at headlines. The driver who used to crash into the walls of your life no longer takes up space in your mind. Not consciously, at least.

The whispers die down, too. People say Yuki’s probably back in Japan. Maybe he’s finally settled down. Maybe someone quiet and sweet tied him down the way no one else could. Maybe she doesn’t mind the pieces of him that others flinch from.

You swear it’s not something you think of, not something you pay too much attention to. 

Until the day you see him again.

It’s a golden afternoon, the kind the city seems to bottle at the end of autumn. Soft sun pouring like syrup through the wide windows of your favorite café. You’re halfway through a book you don’t love and a cappuccino you do when the bell over the door jingles.

You glance up.

And freeze.

He’s there. Standing like the end of a sentence. Like something you almost convinced yourself you made up. There’s no swagger, no show. Just a muscle tee, jeans, and hair that’s grown longer than you remember. His eyes scan the café, land on you, and stay.

You don’t speak. You don’t move.

Yuki walks over slowly. There’s something unguarded about him in the sunlight. No paddock flash, no silver jewelry. It’s just him. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says in greeting, his voice low. Not rushed. Not cool. Honest.

You raise your eyebrows. “How did you even know I’d be here?”

He offers a small, almost shy smile. “You told me once. Said this was the only place in Faenza with enough sunlight in the mornings.”

You blink. You don’t remember saying that. Not clearly. It must’ve been one of those offhand comments, said in passing and long forgotten. Except he didn’t forget, and now he’s standing in your safe space like he belongs in it. You fight the urge to call him cruel, to accuse him of selfishness. 

He looks around, then back at you. “Can we talk?”

You don’t say yes.

But you don’t say no, either.

Instead, you close your book and set it on the table between you, spine-up. A marker of pause. You watch as he takes the seat across from you, the sunlight painting him golden. 

He leans forward slightly, fingers tapping once on the ceramic of his cup. “I missed you.”

“You’ve said that, yes.”

“More than I thought I would.”

You don’t flinch. Your voice is steady when you ask, “What kind of conversation is this going to be, Yuki?”

He breathes out slowly, eyes flicking to the window, then back to you. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t have the words for it yet. I just... I kept thinking about you. Not just sometimes. All the time. Even when I tried not to.”

“That’s not enough. Not anymore,” you say outright. “If you’re here to stir things up and leave again, then I can’t—won’t—go through that. I’m not a pitstop for you to take at your convenience.” 

For a moment, he looks like he might back down. Like whatever fire brought him here is flickering. But then he meets your eyes again, and something raw passes in his expression.  

“Can I at least try?” he asks. “To prove that I can change? That I’m not just the guy who walks away?”

He’s not asking for forgiveness. He’s not even asking for a second chance. He’s asking for the space to earn it.

Despite everything, despite how many times he’s broken the shape of your heart, you sit there in the daylight and realize you haven’t said no.

Yuki doesn’t try to bulldoze his way back into your life. No grand gestures. No midnight declarations outside your window. He just starts showing up.

The first time, he brings you coffee. Not from your usual café but from the little shop near the laundromat, the one that’s been run by the same old man since the dawn of time. You’d mentioned once, half-asleep and tangled in his sheets, that they made the best espresso in town. That the crema was just right. That the bitterness lingered like a promise.

He remembered.

You don’t thank him. Not with words. You only take the cup and drink it down slowly, eyes never leaving his face. You catch him pumping his fist in the air as he walks away.  

The second time, he texts you. Can I drop something off?

You think about ignoring it. You almost do. But curiosity is a stubborn thing, and Yuki’s always known how to use it against you.

You say yes.

He comes by with a box of strawberries from the weekend market, sun-warmed and still smelling like earth. You take them wordlessly and shut the door. That night, you eat them all. Not a single one is rotten.

The third time, he waits.

You’re late getting home. The sky is turning the color of old bruises, and there he is—sitting on your front steps, hood drawn up, earbuds in. You expect him to flash that grin, the one that always meant trouble, but he doesn’t. He just stands.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he says. “I just wanted to see you home safe.”

You tell yourself not to soften. Not to fall for the way his voice wraps around your name like a secret.

He keeps showing up. Not every day. Just enough to be noticed. Just enough to worm his way back in.

You find sticky notes pressed to your mailbox. One has your favorite line from that book you never finished. Another has a doodle of a bull—round and clumsy, like the ones he used to scribble on the had to go, you know your way out notes after sex. This time, he’s a little more articulate. Sentiments like thought of you and look, it’s us and I tried my best, I hope this makes you laugh. 

You don’t throw them away.

Sometimes you text back. Just one-word answers. Sometimes nothing at all. But you don’t block him. And he doesn’t push. 

One night, it rains. Hard.

There’s a knock on your door, and when you open it, he’s standing there soaked, holding a small umbrella and a takeaway bag that smells like gyoza.

“I didn’t know if you’ve eaten,” he says.

You let him in, drizzle and all.

He sets the food on your kitchen counter. You watch the water bead on his skin, watch the way his hands shake slightly as he opens the bag. A couple of months ago, this might have ended with a quickie in the shower, with him between your legs or you on your knees. 

There’s none of that tonight. Instead, you eat together. You make small talk. He doesn’t try to touch you, not once. When he leaves, he looks at you like he used to, when you first started whatever it was you were doing. Like you hung the stars above Faenza yourself.

You close the door behind him, back pressed to the wood, and realize you’ve stopped saying this is the last time.

Somewhere, in all the quiet, you’ve started letting him back in.

You’re drunk. Not sloppy, not wild, but warm and loose around the edges. The kind of drunk that makes your limbs light and your memories soft. It’s a Friday night, the bar is buzzing, and all your friends are laughing too loudly under string lights. Wine and tequila spill across the hours. People make bad decisions left and right. 

You shouldn’t call him. You know that. You haven’t called him in ages, but tonight you’re just devil-may-care enough to throw caution to the wind. 

You’re slurring on the phone, trying to flirt, and he’s caught between amusement and exasperation. You ask him to pick you up, take you home, make you feel wanted again. 

He does the first half.

You’re leaning against a lamppost when Yuki’s car pulls up, headlights catching the shimmer of your dress. You slide into the passenger seat without a word. He’s quiet, hands steady on the wheel, face unreadable.

“You have a flight tomorrow,” you say.

“I do,” he huffs. 

Silence wraps around the car like fog. At a red light, you turn to him. His profile glows gold under the streetlamp, calm and close, too familiar. Something in you stirs.

“Yuki,” you hum, reaching out.

He doesn’t flinch when your fingers brush his cheek. He doesn’t pull away when you lean in. You lean over the center console, emboldened. Your lips almost graze his jaw when he stops you—hand gentle but firm against your shoulder.

“Don’t,” he says softly.

You freeze.

“Not like this,” he adds, eyes still on the road ahead.

You laugh, small and bitter. “Since when do you say no?”

“Since it started meaning more.”

You stare at him, suddenly more sober than before.

He glances at you then, voice low. “I’m not doing that anymore. Taking what I want and leaving you to figure it out alone. I want more than... that.” 

You sit back, stunned. The Yuki you knew—the one who once kissed you like it was a dare and left like it was nothing—never said things like that. He pulls up to your building and shifts the car into park. Doesn’t look at you right away. 

When he does turn to you, having acted like nothing more than your chauffeur, a good friend, somebody in love with you and trying his best to prove it, his expression is so open that it steals the breath from your lungs. He’s never looked at you like this before. 

Or, at least, you’ve never noticed 

“Get inside safe, okay?” he mumbles, and you nod, suddenly unsure of everything.

You wake up the next morning with the taste of regret and tequila on your tongue.

Your head throbs. Your stomach churns. And yet, somehow, you’re pulling on yesterday’s jeans and finding your keys. You don’t stop to fix your hair or clean the smudged eyeliner under your eyes. You just go.

Yuki’s apartment is tucked behind a quiet row of sycamores that still remember the sound of his laughter from summer evenings past. You take the stairs two at a time, adrenaline pushing you through the nausea, until you’re standing in front of his door.

You knock. Harder than necessary. When he opens it, he’s halfway into his travel hoodie, suitcase by the door, passport in hand.

He blinks at you. Surprised, maybe. Or maybe not. “Hey,” you greet, voice rough from sleep and leftover alcohol.

“Hey,” he echoes, a little cautious. “You alright?”

You nod. You’re clearly not. “Can I come in?”

He steps aside without another word.

You stop just past the doorway, not quite sure what to do with yourself. “I’m sorry about last night,” you blurt, crossing your arms tightly. “I wasn’t trying to—I mean, I didn’t mean to make things complicated.”

He exhales a sigh, setting his passport down on the table. “It’s not complicated. You were drunk. I’m glad you called me.”

“Yeah, well.” You glance at the floor. “It still felt shitty waking up and not knowing what I’d said or done.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says gently. “But I didn’t want to... take advantage. Not this time.”

The words are out of you before you can reel them back in. “That’s new,” you say, unintentionally calloused and cruel. 

He cracks a faint smile, as if he figures he deserved it. “I’m trying,” he responds. (You don’t doubt it.) 

You study him—the dull glint of his grin, the tired crease near his eyes. He looks like someone who wants to stay and go at the same time. “Where are you heading?” you ask, because the other option would be to ask him to stick around when that’s not in the cards.

“Bahrain,” he answers patiently, even though he already texted you about it two days ago. “Pre-season testing.” 

“Big year.”

“Could be. If I keep my head on straight.”

You step forward. “Let me make this harder for you.”

He raises a brow. Before he can respond, you’re already leaning in to kiss him. 

It’s not graceful. Not neat. Messy, brash, too much teeth at first. But he kisses you back—without hesitation. Like he’s been holding the moment in his chest for weeks, waiting for permission. You’ve kissed Yuki maybe dozens of times before, but this one is different. This one means something. 

You break away first. His forehead rests lightly against yours. Your breaths mingle. 

He blurts out the next words as if he’s been holding on to them for too long. Maybe he has. Maybe they’ve beat beneath his ribs since the night he met you, since the first time you kissed, since the day you tried to leave him in that parking lot with nothing but the ghost of your warmth. 

“You’re not a pitstop.” 

“What?” you ask laughingly, forgetting already what you’d warned him in the sun-drenched café that led to this this second shot. I’m not a pitstop for you to take at your convenience. 

“You’re not a pitstop,” Yuki repeats, arms wrapping around you. Fuck the flight. He can always book another one. 

“You’re the whole goddamn race,” he says, and then he’s kissing you again like he can somehow seal the words against your lips. 

It’s funny. You had spent all this time wondering what Yuki was racing for, what he might racing away from. 

You never thought he could be racing towards you. ⛐

[sqgeism]

Amphoreus men with reader who has insomnia? Maybe they have perpetual eye bags and can fall asleep literally anywhere but in bed

Hope you're doing well

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 he'd stay and treat his lady | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌     —      ; give everything to his new baby !  sleep is hard, or at least it has been on specifically your bed, as of recently. despite concerns raised by your boyfriend, he finds it a little funny. considering the fact that you've not only managed to fall asleep in the garden of your home, but some chimera's have somehow found you.

love mail — did i put 5 requests together.. yes... 5 birds with ONE STONE 🩷🩷 but they all had similar prompts so i just put 'em all together :3 sorry individual anons that you won't get the notif i answered !! i love u guys, thank you for requesting anonnies f(^ー^; ♡ please forgive my laziness i swear i'll lock in. ACTUALLY had to drink two mountain dews writing this bc i could not force myself to finish this within the day if i didnt

anaxa doesn't know what to do after he finds you asleep on top the coffee table, which is right in front of the very comfy couch you two bought.

he knows you and him are busy, the academy has been working the professors overtime recently and you teach multiple subjects to multiple classes, so it's no wonder you're practically restless. it's just.. he wishes you could sleep in bed again. when you do get the opportunity for shut eye, it'll always be somewhere stupid. his least favorite was on your desk, as being hunched over like that can have long lasting back pains as a consequence (trust him, he knows)

so when one night, expecting to see you on the counters or atop the fridge, anaxa's natural frown deepens at the realization you don't seem to be sleeping in any unconventional place. have you finally relearned the skill to sleep in bed again? nope.. not quite, since the sheets are flat and untouched.

where on amphoreus are you?

that's when his train of thought is interrupted by little chitters outside, *the garden?* animals aren't typically seen around your home, but he supposes that it isn't impossible. but that's also the one place he hasn't checked, and if he's a moment too late to you getting mauled by.. whatever's out there, anaxa doesn't feel like losing another eye in hopes to see a loved one. though something that makes such a cute noise can't be too harmful.

and as always, anaxa is almost never incorrect. because there you are, in all your genius, asleep in the middle of the freshly cut garden with.. chimera's around you?

the little things are slipping into your coat, or rubbing themselves against your sleeping body. they seemed to think you'd give them attention, but they were just helping you fall deeper into sleep. fluffy balls of sweetness acted like a warm blanket, and you stood no chance, even with your issues with sleep.

and here anaxa is, having to deal with your antics for the millionth time. but if it was an issue—he'd be complaining, and even if he does, you know he doesn't mean it. like this very moment; "you're so weird," the scholar grumbles under his breath, yet he's careful as he approaches, careful to not startle you or the chimeras. "—i can't believe i have to deal with you." while he takes off his coat and covers you, all while he slowly carries you into his lap on the grass, settling you down comfortably to lean against him. "and you're just.. the worst."

he says these things while you're now asleep on him, his arms securely around you and keeping you close to support your body. if you were awake, surely you'd be teasing him about how affectionate he's choosing to be at the moment. and it seems the chimera's have gotten comfy too, the colorful critters beginning to yawn as he runs his fingers through your hair.

he wants to think he hates you for distracting him from his greater goal, for softening him up. for making him afraid to lose again.

but he can't, not when you're here and you wear the ring that reminds him of his promise. his promise to love you for however long he has and for far longer past death. his prophecy is neverchanging, but so is his love. and his legacy after death will never be truly told if your name is not mentioned alongside his.

mydei gets it. honestly, he does. sleep doesn't come easy to any of them, but mydei knows you're not exactly a heir. you're mortal, and you need things that he doesn't quite understand but he tries to. when he began catching you still up long past 2am, whether your nose buried in a book or eating leftovers from dinner, it worries him. he tries to soothe you back to sleep, but nothing works. and he has to watch you walk out that door with clearly not enough energy to function.

and it's the same thing tonight, he's laying on the couch with a novel in hand as you walk over to him. the time? 12:48 am. mydei wants to hide his unpleased expression, but he's sure his eyes narrow and his brows furrow slightly, however they're quick to melt into a much more tender expression as you move between his legs to lay on his chest, huffing.

"i'm tired, mydei." your voice is weak, and you feel limp on top of him. it actually causes somewhat discomfort to the warrior for a moment, as the feeling of a body on top of him is not foreign.. unfortunately. "i wish i could sleep. i really.. really do."

your hands ball into fists out of frustration, a trembling breath escaping you. but large, careful hands go over yours. breaking down that fist as he intertwines his fingers between the gap of yours, a perfect fit, as your two hearts are. "i don't know how i can help, but if i can find something, i'll be sure to tell you as soon as possible."

his lips softly kiss your forehead. "but i'm here. every night, and day, just come to me when it's too much." then he kisses each of your eyelids, and to mydei's surprise.. they don't open after he moves away. and you've fallen asleep, after a week of restlessness, you're brought into a dream state from kisses.

the chrysos heir would laugh, but he chooses to let you rest, rubbing soothing circles to your back as he waits for day to come.

phainon.. oh.. phainon... he's been so worried about the whole thing. he's gotten you some sleep medication, which does work, but he wants you to be able to sleep without them again. especially since there are times where you purposefully don't take them, and he has to find out when he comes home at 11pm and you're still up.

although tonight, when you're the one that comes home late, he's quick to catch on to the clear fatigue that's caught up with you. "baby?"

"work was horrible." you grumble, slugging towards him seated at the dining table before making yourself comfortable on the nearest chair (him). "i missed you, and i'm tired."

you feel his laugh echo in his throat, hands on your thighs pull you closer, before they move to your waist and stay there, humming teasingly. "i'm sorry to hear that, honey. you need anything? there's some dinner if you're hungry. i'll heat it up for you." he offers, caressing your form as you shake your head. what a touchy chair.

"i just wanna be able to sleep normally again, phai." you yawn, but you know well enough that your body will still refuse to rest. you forgot to stop by a pharmacy before going home, and you've run out of your sleeping meds. "i know, and you will soon baby. don't make your pretty head hurt any more than it already is, alright?" he dips down to kiss you tenderly with great passion. hey, if you can't sleep, he'll at least try to make the moments you're awake enjoyable. his left hand cups your cheek in order to tilt your head, his own shifting the opposite way to deepen the exchange of love. "you're alright, honey." he murmurs against your lips, pressing one last peck before he smiles. "i know you'll bounce back, you always do."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)