#how they kept looking to each other since the first day!

[readwritealldayallnight]

I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

[kingkaizen]

𝓫𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼

∘ desc: months after divorcing your ex-husband, you must both be on your best behavior for your daughter's birthday party. will seeing each other again bring up old feelings that you tried so hard to bury?

∘ ft: ex-husband!geto

∘ word count & a/n: 3.8k | this has been in my wips forever and im so happy to finally get this out, i hope you all enjoy reading <3

∘ includes: angst, cunnilingus, edging, missionary, praise, smug geto

The sound of children’s laughter filled the air, blending in with the bass of the party music. The backyard was completely decorated with balloons and streamers, colors representing your daughter’s favorites. As much as you adore your little girl, you can confidently say that you’ve been dreading this day. Not the celebration part of course, but the person that you would be forced to run into. 

Glancing around the yard, you feel your heart skip for a second as you spotted him–Suguru. He had a huge smile on his face, crouching down to give his daughter a kiss on her forehead. You could tell how happy she is to see him, watching her jump up and down at the excitement of just seeing her father. Even now, after everything that’s happened, he was still undeniably him. The quiet confidence and the beaming smile. It was frustrating how attractive he still was, especially considering how you’ve spent the last year trying to forget it. 

His gaze flickers to yours, catching you staring. He held your eyes in his, something unreadable flickering across his face before he turned back to your daughter. You break eye-contact at the same time, your fingers tightening around your drink. It was the first time that you’ve both been in the same space for more than five minutes since the divorce, the tension between you bubbling up.

“Mommy!” your daughter’s voice broke your trance, and you turned to see her running toward you, her tiny hands clutching box. “Daddy said that you can help me open this!”

You smiled, but your chest tightened as Suguru approached behind her, his presence looming larger than life. For her sake, you kept the smile on your face, even as your pulse quickened with every step he took.

“Of course, birthday girl,” you said, setting your drink down to take the wrapped box from her hands. You knelt down to her level, plastering on your best smile, even as you felt Suguru’s presence settle beside you.

“Here,” Suguru said, his voice low as he handed you a pair of scissors from the nearby table. You flinched slightly at how close he’d gotten, his arm brushing yours as he crouched beside you. You hated how good that one second of touch felt. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as you carefully opened her gift.

Your daughter squealed with delight as you revealed a plush animal inside, her little hands grabbing it before you could fully pull it out. She hugged it tightly, looking up at both of you with a beaming smile.

“I love it daddy, you’re the best!” she declared, skipping off to show her friends.

Left alone, you stood up quickly, awkwardly brushing imaginary dust from your hands. Suguru rose too, his movements slower, more deliberate.

“You didn’t have to get that,” you said, your tone abrupt.

“She wanted it,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes were on you, and for a moment, you felt pinned under the weight of his gaze, unable to escape.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a group of kids ran between you, cutting off whatever sharp remark you were about to make. Suguru chuckled softly, the sound pulling your focus back to him.

“She’s happy,” he said, nodding toward your daughter, who was now showing off her new toy. “That’s all that matters, right?” He tilted his head at you, his face unreadable.

You hated how easily he could shift the conversation, deflecting any tension with his calm demeanor. You hated even more how your chest tightened at the sight of him being so effortlessly good with her.

“Right,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

The rest of the party passed in a blur of small talk, laughter, and the occasional shared glance that lingered a second too long. You tried to avoid him as much as possible, but Suguru seemed to always be nearby��helping you cut the cake, handing out goodie bags, and playing games with your daughter.

It was infuriating how natural he made it all look, like he hadn’t made the choice to leave this life behind. Like he hadn’t left you.

By the time the party wound down and the last of the guests had said their goodbyes, the house was quiet again, like it usually is with just you and your daughter. She was upstairs, tucked into bed after an exhausting but joy-filled day with her family and friends. You stood in the kitchen, trying to clean up the remnants of the cake, when you felt him enter the room.

“You don’t have to stay, I can clean up on my own” you said without turning around.

“I know,” Suguru said, his voice soft but steady. He grabs a garbage bag and begins to help you out anyways, taking down some balloons and other decorations. “You look good today.”

You turned to face him, your hands clutching a dishrag. “Why are you even here?”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in this entire day, the mask he’d been wearing began to crack. There was something raw in his gaze—regret, longing, something you didn’t want to name, fearing that you would only begin to crack too. 

“Because I can’t keep pretending,” he said, taking a step closer. “Not after today. Not after seeing you like this.”

“Seeing me like what?,” you throw the rag down, completely exasperated. “Seeing me continue to be a good mom despite all of the shit you put me through? Seeing how happy she still is, despite the fact that you don’t make the effort?” 

Suguru flinched at your words, his expression tightening. He looked down for a moment, his jaw clenching before he met your eyes again, the softness in them now sharpened by frustration.

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly, but there was a weight to his voice that made you pause. “You don’t think that I care? As if it doesn’t kill me to be apart from you both?”

“You left, Suguru!” Your voice cracked, the emotions you’d been bottling up all day finally breaking free. “You decided this wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the one hurting, you weren’t fair to us the moment you walked out that door for good.”

He took another step closer, the distance between you shrinking as the tension swirled like a storm between you both. “You think this was easy for me?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, like he was holding something back. “I made mistakes, I know that. But don’t for a second think I stopped loving her, or stopped loving you.”

Your breath hitched, his words hitting you like a brick. “Don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Don’t say things like that just because you feel guilty. How could you stand there and say that, after everything?”

“It’s not guilt,” he said firmly, his hand twitching at his side, longing to reach for you but knowing that he shouldn’t. “It’s the truth.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The room felt too small, the air too thick, and the weight of everything unsaid between you threatened to crush you both.

“Then why did you leave?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident all over his face. “Because I thought it was the right thing to do. For you, for her, for everyone. But I was wrong. I just wish that I realized that before...”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Your hands were trembling, and you didn’t know if it was from anger, sadness, or the way he was looking at you now—like he was desperate, like he was afraid you might slip away for good. At this point, you didn’t even know what you truly wanted.

“Don’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t make me feel like this again.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “I just... I need you to know that I still love you. That I never stopped. And today—seeing you, seeing her—it made me realize how much I want this back.” He was so close to you at this point, his face mere inches away from your own. His hand reluctantly reached for your chin, and you allowed him to tilt your head up to fully face him. His words began to sink in, tugging at your heart. Before you could even wrap your head around it, he speaks up again.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Tell me I haven’t lost you completely.”

Your breath hitched, the room closing in around you as the weight of his confession hung in the air. Your head is telling you to take a step back and let him go for good. Nevertheless, the choice was yours now—to let the past consume you both, or to take the first step toward something neither of you could fully let go of.

Wordlessly, you closed the small distance between you, your hand reaching up to grip the front of his shirt. The fabric bunched beneath your fingers as you looked up at him, the storm of emotions in your chest threatening to spill over, just like the tears filling your lash line.

Suguru froze, his breath catching as his eyes searched yours for a sign, any indication of what you were about to do.

“You don’t get to do this to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “You don’t get to walk back in and say things like that—make me feel like this again.”

“I know,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested against his chest. “But I can’t pretend anymore. Not when I still—”

You didn’t let him finish, some part of you doesn’t think that you’d be able to handle what he was going to say next. Before he could say anything else, you pulled him down, capturing his lips with yours. It was a kiss full of longing with a faint sign of anger, and Suguru responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as if he was afraid you might slip away if he let go again.

The kiss deepened, months of hurt and unspoken feelings pouring out between you. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, the familiar feeling softening your heart as the walls you built around it began to crumble. When you finally pulled back, breathless and shaken, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed as if he was afraid that you wouldn’t be there when he opened them.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll walk away. I’ll let you go.”

Your grip on his shirt tightened, your body betraying the answer your mind hadn’t fully caught up to yet. “I hate you for making me feel this way,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I can’t lie to you. I still—”

Suguru’s lips were on yours again before you could finish, cutting off your words with a kiss that left no room for doubt. Whatever you had both tried to bury between you was rising to the surface now, unstoppable and undeniable. There was no question how you felt about one another, and you both made it your mission to prove it.

His hands began to explore your body, feeling hot to the touch as they rested beneath your thighs. He lifts you up as you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively. He pulls away to chuckle against your lips.

“You always know exactly what I want you to do, huh?” Suguru teased, his voice a low murmur as he carried you effortlessly toward the once-shared bedroom. His smirk sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of frustration and desire building in your chest.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, though the breathless edge to your voice betrayed you.

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed his lips to the column of your neck. “Oh, I’m not. But I remember how you used to look at me like this… how you’d crave it when I took control.”

You bit back a retort as he kicked the bedroom door open with ease, the familiar space pulling memories you’d worked so hard to suppress back into focus. He set you down on the edge of the bed, his hands firm but gentle as you laid back, his body moving to hover over yours.

His eyes found yours, darker than you remembered, the heat in his gaze setting your nerves off. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his hands sliding up just enough to make your breath hitch, his fingers hooking underneath the waistband of your pants. “And I will.”

Instead of answering, you pulled him down, crashing your lips against his again. It was messy and heated as his weight pressed you back against the mattress. His hands were everywhere, exploring like he was trying to memorize every inch of you all over again, and you let him.

“God, I missed this,” he muttered against your skin, his teeth grazing your collarbone before his lips soothed the spot with a kiss. “Missed you.”

The confession made your heart clench, but there was no time to linger on it. Not when his hands were slipping beneath your shirt, his touch electrifying as he pushed the fabric up and over your head.

“Prove it,” you challenged, your voice steady despite the way your body trembled under his touch. You made quick work of his belt, tugging on his waistband as best as you could.

Suguru’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his voice dripping with certainty. He helped you completely take off his pants before he slipped off yours, his knees hitting the carpet of your room so that he was eye-level with your cunt. Only one thin piece of fabric was left between him and you, his intense gaze making you want to run away and hide. He wouldn’t let you though, hands gripping your thighs to keep them from closing.

“Don’t hide from me, beautiful,” he finally pulls the fabric completely off, kissing up the side of your thighs. His thumbs pull your folds apart, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of you. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.” He wastes no time, his tongue poking out to prod at your slick folds. Your fingers dug into his hair, locking onto the dark strands as you used what little strength you had to tug. He continues on, stroking firmly at your clit, looking up at you to watch your face contorted in pleasure. He loves making you feel good, he craves your moans and soft gasps as the overwhelming feeling of his tongue washes over your body. 

“God, you taste even better than what I remembered, baby,” you gushed around his tongue, not being able to respond as your brain fogged over. “What’s the matter sweetheart, can’t even respond to me anymore?” He loved pissing you off, even in a moment like this. You want so badly to respond to him and wipe that stupid smirk off of his face. Before you could do that, he slips two fingers inside, his lips wrapping firmly around your clit as he begins to steadily move them inside of you. 

The combination of his tongue and fingers was too much, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. His fingers worked inside you with deliberate precision, curling just right to press against that spot that made your breath hitch every time.

“Look at you,” he rasped against your clit, his breath hot and teasing. “So perfect for me. Taking everything I give you like you were made for it.” His voice was laced with pride, the smugness in his tone only making your desire burn hotter.

Your grip on his hair tightened, a feeble attempt to pull him closer or maybe to anchor yourself as your body threatened to unravel. He chuckled, low and rough, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

“Suguru,” you finally managed to gasp out, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his free hand sliding up to grip your hip, holding you steady as you squirmed under his touch. “Say my name, princess. Let me hear you.”

Every word, every flick of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs quivered around his head, the heat coiling in your belly threatening to snap. He could feel it, too, the way your body clenched around his fingers, your breaths coming quicker, more erratic. Before you could reach your peak, he abruptly stopped his movements, completely ruining your high. 

A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your body twitching in protest at the sudden loss of stimulation. Your eyes flew open, locking onto Suguru’s face, which was now hovering just above yours. The smug grin plastered across his face made your frustration burn hotter.

“What the hell, Suguru?” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and annoyance.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence, his eyes never leaving yours. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone eerily calm. “I didn’t say I was done with you.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid up your sides, his touch firm yet teasing. He pressed his body against yours, pinning you beneath him, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You’re going to come when I say, and not a second before. Understood?”

The heat pooling in your belly flared again at his words, even as you glared up at him. You wanted to defy him, to push back against the control he always seemed to wield so effortlessly, but the intensity in his eyes left you speechless.

“Say it,” he pressed, his voice dangerously low, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt about who was in control.

This time, he wrapped his hand around himself, giving his raging hard-on some much needed attention. He took his time, covering his cock with your juices, looking at you with such a stare that made you want to crawl away and hide from his gaze forever. Continuing to hover over you, he hooked one leg up with his arm, his other hand guiding himself to your entrance.

You nearly sobbed with relief at the feeling of his tip prodding at you. He slowly begins to fill you up, enjoying the way your walls seem to perfectly take every inch of him, even though so much time has passed. “Feel s' good,” he murmured, his voice rough as he began to pick up on a steady rhythm. “Let me take care of you properly.” You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or your cunt, but you didn’t care as his movements began to pick up even more. Every pump inside of you felt deeper and deeper, his balls slapping against your ass, showing you no mercy. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes scrunched closed as he felt you squeeze around him. “You’re so tight,” he whispers against you, hips beginning to stutter from the feeling of your pussy choking him for everything that he has. “Pussy trying to milk me huh?” His movements were driving you relentlessly toward the edge. Pressing his lips against yours, he kissed you through it all, swallowing every noise that left your lips. Your body trembled beneath him, legs shaking against his body.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “I’ve got you. Let go for me, beautiful.”

And with a cry that was equal parts his name and a broken gasp, you did, the tension in your body releasing in a wave of euphoria. Suguru didn’t stop, riding out every tremor with you, his own high coming shortly after yours as his dick twitched inside of you, spurts of cum filling you up quickly. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as you held each other through every wave of pleasure. 

When you finally came down, your chest heaving and your limbs trembling, he looked at you, a stupid smirk plastered on his face that you can’t help but giggle at. As your laughter faded into the quiet hum of the room, Suguru brushed a strand of hair from your damp forehead, his touch tender. Something so raw in his eyes struck you harder than any words in this moment could.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your mingled breaths. For once, there was no smugness in his expression, only sincerity that matched the ache in your own heart.

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything between you settling in again. “This doesn’t fix anything, Suguru,” you said softly, your fingers tracing absent patterns along his chest. “There’s still so much—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone serious now. “I know I can’t erase my mistakes and what I did to you and our family. But this, tonight, can be a fresh start, if you’ll allow it to be.” You studied him for a long moment, searching for any hint of doubt or deceit, but all you saw was the man you once fell in love with some time ago, laying his heart on the table for you. Slowly, you nodded, though your heart still felt guarded. “I don’t know if I can forgive you completely. At least, not right now.

He smiled softly, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not asking for that right now. Just allow me to spend every single day making it up to you, and every day after that.”

As he pulled you closer, cradling you against his chest. You allowed your eyes to close, letting your brain imagine what life might look like in the next years to come. Old wounds may never heal, but maybe it was time to let him back in again. If not for your own heart, but for your daughter who so desperately craves the equal attention of both of her parents that love her more than they do anything else. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep, the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat bringing you comfort that you thought you’d never be able to feel again. 

For a moment, you’re able to forget the pain and anger that once filled your heart, and replace it with the newfound hope of making something whole out of the broken pieces left behind.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests 

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

[aheathen-conceivably]

Warm air settled over Strangerville as Antoine spent his weeks at home. For days he did little but enjoy the quiet rhythm of life, helping Zelda with work or waiting for Violette to return home from school. All he wanted was to spend every moment that he could with them, storing away memories for the sleepless nights he knew awaited him in the near future. Only there was still one thing he had to do before he went back on the road, so one day in Spring he made the long trek up the hill to Hines Ranch.

Violette was by his side, mostly because she had hardly ever left it since he returned, but also because she never missed an opportunity to visit Hines Ranch now that her days there were few and far between. The whole walk she vacillated between chattiness and moody sighs, trying to make her displeasure about his imminent departure known while still wanting to talk to him. 

Every time she did, his resolve crumbled. Whatever other difficulties he faced leaving again paled next to this: disappointing her over and over again each time her childish joy turned to loneliness right before his eyes. It was all he could do to give her every bit of attention she wanted while he was here, so that there was never any request too big or misbehavior worth reprimanding.

Because deep down, he felt like she was right to treat him this way. He had seen how much her hair had grown and how desperately she needed new dresses. Even if he knew that leaving meant he could give her that and more, it was at the expense of missing so much.

The farmyard was quiet as they approached, the pens where Antoine had learned to wrangle horses empty and the man he sought nowhere to be seen. He took Violette by the hand and walked toward the barn, betting that Abe and his horses were in the cool shade of the afternoon. As soon as they drew near a small voice sang out from the darkness beyond. “Lottie!”

She hesitated briefly, pulling at Antoine’s hand as Will appeared at the stall doors. “I should have known you were near. Silver didn’t seem nearly as angry this feeding. Wanna come and see her?”

Immediately, Violette let go of Antoine’s hand and ran toward Will; but as she reached him she seemed to remember that if she turned her back, her father might disappear. So she kept her face turned even as Will guided her to the horses. Antoine’s heart ached as he looked at her. “Go on, little Princess. I’m right behind you.”

She ran directly into the enclosure without an ounce of fear. Silver neighed happily before looking up toward Antoine; then she brought her ears forward and turned her attention to Violette. As he looked at them, it seemed almost foolish to think of how many weeks he had spent calmy and hesitantly winning the horse over when his daughter's intense energy and loud laugher had immediately done the same.

He wondered what exactly it was that Silver sensed in her that made her so calm. Maybe it was her fearlessness that he himself had come to admire, or the unabashed way her emotions came to her without thought or filter, like a storm in the desert sending clouds of dust through the sky.

Antoine’s thoughts were interrupted by heavy footfall that he would have recognized anywhere. He turned toward the sound while the two children stayed preoccupied. “Judging by that new tie, I take it you’re not here to get back to work, are ya?” 

Forgetting why he had come for a moment, Antoine allowed himself a smile before he took his friend’s outstretched hand. Then he glanced back at Violette, trying to ensure that she wasn’t listening. He knew that any mention of the next tour was guaranteed to send her sulking, but she had already begun to whisper conspiratorial plans to Will while she pointed at the caged horses.

“I’m afraid not.” Antoine cleared his throat nervously, guilt washing over him that he had come here to quit a job that had been given to him in good faith. Before the first tour he had told Abe that it was only temporary, and maybe he had hoped it was. But there was no denying the opportunity anymore. “Jo’s booked up two more tours. I hope I’m not putting you out too terribly by leaving with so little notice."

A bright smile overtook Abe's face, one that Antoine immediately recognized as genuine pride. "Nonsense! I believe congrats are in order. Will's old enough to help now anyhow, and if need be there’s still no shortage of men after a job. No replacing you with them horses though, so might as well give it a go on my own for a while.”

Guilt settled deeper in Antoine’s stomach as he realized what he had already suspected: Abe had never needed his work. He had done it to help him when he had been at his lowest. The bright smile stayed on his face. “Want to come inside for a cup of coffee? Day’s mostly done anyway. Besides, I would like to hear where that guitar has been. Will?” His gaze went over Antoine’s shoulder, snapping Will’s eyes to immediate attention even while Violette’s continued to wander the stalls, “No leaving the farmyard, you know the rules.”

Settled inside the cool wooden walls of the farmhouse, Abe set down a tray of coffee still steaming from the stove. He poured a steady stream of coffee into each mug as he spoke. “So how was it out there?”

Antoine reached out for his cup, letting the scent wash over him like he would after a long day’s work. “It had its moments.”

Abe looked into his cup the same that way Antoine was, his voice taking on a sort of melancholy tone that sounded just as rooted in the past as it was the present. “I reckon alot of folk will act like it should be easier. Making your living playing music rather than working somewhere like here. But it has its own pains. I know.”

Their conversation seemed to flow easier after that, discussing how the mountains grew taller as the road led further from New Mexico, or how this year’s cattle drive just didn’t seem to be getting any better. Eventually their rusted pot stopped steaming and the seemingly endless stream of coffee ran dry, but their shared laughter felt just as warm.

Only the sun beams angling through the Western windows told them how much time had really passed, and Abe looked down at his empty cup one final time. "Come on, I'll walk you out. Lord knows we'll have to go looking for Lottie and Will." Antoine rose to his feet behind him, a good natured laugh leaving his lips as his chair scaped against the floor.

By the time they emerged from the house, the early afternoon sun was shining on the sand and the heat had begun to abate. In the distance, children’s laughter could be heard, most certainly from beyond the farmyard. A small smile played on Abe’s face as he looked out toward the distant voices. “You know he only breaks that rule when your girl is here?”

“I’ll talk to her first thing when we get home…”

Abe waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t. It’s good for them to feel a bit independent 'round this age. Besides,” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his voice grew quiet, “I worry he follows my rules to a fault sometimes. Life will hit him hard one day.”

Quiet fell between them as the laughter came closer and footsteps rang out across the mesa. Antoine shuffled his feet, conscious of the lingering words he wanted to say. “‘Suppose they heard our voices, didn’t they? Bet they’ll claim they were only just over the fence.”

Abe looked in their direction, letting the sun hit his eyes. “Sure will. And we’ll pretend like it’s the truth.” He brought his hand up to his face, ostentatiously to shield it from the sun, but also to ensure that it wasn’t visible as he spoke. “Just don’t be a stranger, will you? No need for work if you want to bring your girl by.”

Antoine cleared his throat, the words he had really come here to say finally bubbling to the surface. "Of course. And, Abe - thank - thank you. For the work I mean - for - for everything since we’ve been here. Zelda and I - we appreciate it.”

The quiet that fell between them was one of understanding, and from the corner of his eye Antoine saw Abe give a quick nod of his head. Then, right on cue, their children rounded the fence, their hands interlocked and their faces full of joy.

[greengoblinswifey]

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part III

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of arousal, fluff.

Series Masterlist

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The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on the bed. You woke up to the quiet sounds of the ocean outside, your body still tangled in the warmth of the sheets. Nicholas was already awake, propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone beside you. He looked effortlessly fine—his hair messily perfect, his jawline catching the light, those pretty eyes.

“Morning,” he said, glancing at you with a small smile. His voice was rough, low, and intimate in the quiet room.

“Morning,” you replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

There was a beat of silence, the air thick with the unspoken acknowledgment of what had transpired the night before. You sat up, the covers slipping off your shoulders as you reached for your phone, you were one of those people. But the memory of his touch, how close he was to you last night, was still vivid in your mind.

“So, last night..,” you said eventually, your voice softer than usual. “I haven’t had something like that in a long time.”

Nicholas looked at you for a moment before answering. “Wow, but it was nice.”

You caught yourself studying him—his relaxed posture, the way his fingers scrolled through his phone, and the faint hint of a smile on his lips. There was a question you wanted to ask, something burning at the back of your mind. Was he hard this morning? The thought made your cheeks heat up. You didn’t bother asking. You already knew the answer. But the real question was—why? Was it because of you, or was it just typical morning wood?

Instead of voicing your thoughts, you both dove into headlines, trying to avoid the lingering air between you. As you scrolled through the news, a headline caught your eye, and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you.

“‘Mystery man spotted! Could this be the one to tame the wild child?’” you read aloud, barely containing your laughter.

Nicholas leaned over to glance at your phone, his eyebrow quirking. “Tame? Are they serious?”

“I know, right?” you said, still laughing. “I’m in my early 20s, at the top of my career. I don’t need some man tying me down.” You paused, glancing at him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with a smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

The laughter eased the tension, and the two of you fell into the kind of comfortable rhythm that had been building since your first meeting. You spent the rest of the morning lounging around, the conversation flowing easily. At one point, Nicholas opened up about his past, a year long relationship that had ended just before his career had taken off.

“Were you in love?” you asked, curiosity lacing your tone.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. It just didn’t work. We were in different spaces in life, completely different people.”

You nodded, processing his words before admitting, “I’ve never been in love, I think.”

The confession hung in the air, intimate and raw. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. Was he imagining what it would be like if your first taste of love was with him?

You shifted the conversation, steering it toward lighter topics. hobbies, interests, little quirks that made you both laugh. The more you learned about him, the more you realized how different you were, yet there was an odd sense of compatibility that kept pulling you back in.

Later in the afternoon, you both sat down to discuss your next PR move.

“I’ve got a GQ red carpet event in a few days,” Nicholas mentioned. “It’s the perfect opportunity to make this whole thing slightly more public.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What’s the plan? Play it cool?”

“Exactly,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ll be my date, but we won’t even follow each other on social media. Let the speculation do the work.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Look at us, plotting and scheming.”

Nicholas chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “I can’t believe this is the same person the media paints as a messy party girl.”

“And I can’t believe you’re supposed to be the detached, aloof guy,” you countered, grinning.

He smiled, his gaze softening. “You’re not so bad. Not bad at all.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The afternoon had barely begun when Angela, you and Nicholas’ manager, threw a last-minute photoshoot into your schedule. This wasn’t new, she was known for her knack for delivering surprises, but you didn’t mind. Despite the controversies that had plagued your career recently, brands were still eager to work with you. It was a testament to your influence, even when the media tried to frame you as a wild child.

As you prepared to leave the beach house, your driver pulled up. Nicholas was still lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. When you casually mentioned the shoot, he perked up.

“Mind if I come?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. “To a photoshoot? Why?”

“I want to see you in your element,” he said, his tone surprisingly eager.

It was an odd request, but something about it felt endearing. You shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Arriving on set, the atmosphere was as chaotic as ever—stylists rushing around, makeup artists perfecting details, and the director shouting last-minute adjustments. As you were whisked away to wardrobe, Nicholas trailed behind, taking everything in with wide-eyed fascination.

When you emerged from the dressing room, clad in a couture gown that hugged your figure perfectly, Nicholas looked stunned. He didn’t say much, but his expression spoke volumes.

“You clean up nice,” he teased, smirking as you walked past him toward the set.

“Don’t I always?” you shot back playfully, throwing a wink over your shoulder.

As you posed, the producers buzzed around, setting up lights and angles. One of them, a sharp-eyed man with a clipboard, noticed Nicholas standing off to the side.

“Who’s he?” he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

You seized the opportunity, a sly smile spreading across your face. “Well, that’s Nicholas Chavez. He’s my industry muse. Gaining traction fast. He starred in Ryan Murphy’s Netflix show about the Menendez brothers, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Great actor, and honestly, he has the kind of face that would be perfect for campaigns. You should keep him in mind for any projects or shoots.”

Nicholas blinked, caught off guard by your sudden endorsement, but he quickly recovered, nodding along and smiling gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmured under his breath as he stood beside you.

You glanced at him, brushing it off casually. “It’s my job now isn’t it? That’s why we’re doing this PR thing in the first place.”

The shoot went on, and you moved through each pose effortlessly, embodying the grace and confidence that had made you a household name. Draped in high fashion and surrounded by a perfectly styled set of flowers and soft lighting, you were in your element. Nicholas watched from the sidelines, snapping candid videos and pictures on his phone.

“I can’t believe you just do this,” he said during a break, shaking his head. “It’s like watching a masterclass.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

By the end of the day, you both had enough content to stir the media into another frenzy. Nicholas snapped a picture of the set, with you posing in the background, while you did the same. The plan was to release the images strategically once the photos were ready, perfect publicity for both of you.

Later that evening, Nicholas invited you into his mansion. The two of you lounged in his master bedroom, scrolling through social media and discussing the buzz that was already building.

“Think it’s time to post these?” Nicholas asked, holding up his phone with a mischievous grin. He was referring to the photos of the romantic set up from your beach house.

“Go for it,” you said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

He uploaded the photos first, his caption vague enough to keep people guessing. You followed a few minutes later, knowing the coordinated posts would send your followers into a frenzy.

“This is a fun game,” you admitted, laughing softly as you watched the likes and comments pour in.

Nicholas leaned back against the pillows, his gaze on you. “Look at us, playing the media like it’s chess.”

You grinned but said nothing, focusing instead on the undeniable ease that had settled between you two. As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, jokes, stories, playful banter.

But eventually, you excused yourself. As much as you enjoyed his company, a part of you held back. You couldn’t afford to enjoy it too much, not when the lines between professional and personal were already so blurred.

As you walked next door to your house, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something unpredictable. Would your alliance lead to something more, or was it foreshadowing the chaos to come? Only time would tell.

It should’ve been easy to slip back into your usual mindset, focus on your modeling career, keep your emotions in check, and stay professional. But as much as you tried, your thoughts kept wandering back to Nicholas, how he looked at you today, the way he made you laugh, and how he didn’t seem fazed by your world of chaos. He wasn’t intimidated by it the way other men that had been in your life were.

By the time you stepped into your home, the familiar silence greeted you, grounding you in reality. The space felt bigger than usual, emptier somehow, and you rolled your eyes at yourself. Get a grip, you thought. You weren’t the type to get hung up on anyone, let alone someone you barely knew.

You changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your curls back as you sank into the couch with your phone in hand. Notifications were exploding from the posts you and Nicholas had made earlier. Fans and media outlets alike were speculating, spinning wild theories about the "mystery man." Headlines like “Wild Child Model Tamed?” and “The Love Story We Didn’t See Coming” made you laugh out loud.

“Settle down?” you muttered to yourself. “They’re insane.”

But beneath the humor, a strange pang hit you. It was more like curiosity. What if they aren’t completely wrong? You shook the thought off. You were in your early twenties, at the peak of your career. You didn’t need a man to define or anchor you, even one as intriguing as Nicholas.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A text from him.

Hope you got inside safe though I watched you from my window. Thanks for bringing me to the shoot today, it was kind of amazing seeing you do your thing.

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, his words making you smile despite yourself. He didn’t have to text you. This wasn’t part of the PR script. You typed back quickly.

Don’t get used to it. My world’s a little too chaotic for you.

The response was immediate.

I don’t know. I think I can handle it ;)

You found yourself laughing, the warmth from earlier creeping back. But you couldn’t let this go beyond what it was, a strategic partnership, a temporary arrangement. Right?

You tossed your phone onto the couch and let your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. It should’ve been simple to keep things professional. Nicholas was just another coworker in a way, a means to an end for both of you. But there was something about him, his quiet confidence, the way he challenged you without overstepping, and how he didn’t take himself too seriously, that was starting to get under your skin.

It’s just because he’s new, you told yourself. Once the buzz dies down, so will this—whatever it is.

Still, a small part of you wondered if he felt the same pull. He wasn’t like most people you worked with, who saw you as a means to elevate their own image. Nicholas had seemed genuinely curious about you today, more interested in watching you work than using your name for clout.

Later that night, you scrolled through Instagram, where fans were dissecting every detail of your joint posts. Nicholas had posted first—just a picture of the set with a cryptic caption: “Quiet on set. She’s working.” You’d followed up an hour later with a similar post, careful not to include him in the shot.

The game was still on.

As you lay in bed, your thoughts drifted again. You didn’t want to admit it, but you enjoyed his company far more than you expected. Maybe too much. And that was dangerous. The last thing you needed was to blur the lines between professional and personal.

But then you remembered the way he looked at you today, like you were more than just a headline or a pretty face. Could you really keep this strictly professional? Or was it already too late?

With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over and closed your eyes, determined not to let this turn into something bigger. Tomorrow, it would be back to business. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

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Taglist: @blackynsupremacy @rafeysslut @lanadelreysvs

[crowdedimagines]

All My Friends Say - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

hi y’all, it’s been a minute!! i was listening to the song all my friends say by luke bryan and got a lil inspired

2.8k of ANGST❤️‍🔥 masterlist

Rooster should’ve left the second she walked through the door. He knew that. His friends knew that. She was the last person he could’ve ever expected to walk into the Hard Deck. Y/n, the one that got away. She walked in with a smile on her face, a tan radiating off of her like she had spent the day at the beach. Her smile is what pulled Rooster in in the first place all those years ago. The thing that was truly pulling his attention this time was the man she walked in with. He didn’t think she would ever date another Navy man after him. In fact, he was pretty sure she swore it.

“Is that?” Coyote doesn’t finish his thought, he knows that Rooster knows who he’s referring to. The whole group all turns away from the pool table they surround to see the familiar face he’s already spotted. Rooster simply nods, lacking any words to form a response. Instead he just gulps down the rest of the beer in his hand.

Y/n looks around the place she once was familiar with. It was a just under a year ago that she was a regular at this bar, mainly due to her boyfriend. Her now ex-boyfriend who’s eyes have remained on her since the second she stepped in the bar. He loved it here, always did. His whole group would frequent the Hard Deck, which meant that Y/n did too. When she said yes to a second date, this is not where she pictured them ending up after dinner.

She should’ve known better than to date a Navy man. Apparently the lesson needed to be learned again.

Rooster turns back to the game of pool he should’ve been focusing on. Trying to focus on anything other than her or all the attention the group is giving them. Phoenix squeals loudly passing off her cue to Bob walking over to meet Y/n at the bar. They were always close while he had been dating Y/n, and Phoenix hasn’t mentioned if they’ve kept in contact.

“Y/n?” She asks, causing her to turn at the name. Rooster watched her eyes light up leaning down to hug Phoenix before he forces himself to look away. The last thing he needs is for her to catch him staring. Hangman happens to love giving Y/n attention, so it doesn’t surprise him when he moves to join them at the bar.

The man who came in on Y/n’s arm orders drinks for the two of them while Rooster tries to ignore the huge hug Hangman is giving her in the corner of his vision. He could hear her laugh over the music which finally gets him to glance over again. Y/n looks over Phoenix’s shoulder taking in the rest of the bar when her smile falters. She finally sees who else is at the Hard Deck tonight. They both take a few too many seconds before looking away. She breaks first, finally pulled back to the people she’s standing with when a drink is placed in her hand.

“It’s been way too long! Where have you been?” Phoenix excitedly asks, while subtly trying to figure out who the man she’s on a date with is.

“Still in the area!” Y/n smiles, focusing back on her friend. Rooster decides to follow her action and ignore her by continuing the pool game that is still ongoing, “What brings the crew back to town?”

Phoenix begins to explain that some top gun graduates were called back to Fightertown for a specific mission. Hangman explains that they’re all stationed here permanently now that it's been completed. It drives Y/n crazy not knowing how long they’ve been in town. How many near misses have there been that she would have run into Bradley? Would he have inevitably reached out?

Rooster can’t keep his eyes off of her for long. He’s straining to hear whatever the four of them are all talking about. There’s too many people here for him to be able to hear much of anything. She looks good, everyone in the bar can see that. Her hair is longer now, and her smile seems brighter than the last time they saw each other. He can’t even focus on the pool game in front of him as hard as he tries. He sets down his cue causing Coyote to complain before he steps closer to join the group gathered by the bar.

“I gotta hear this.” Bob gets up from his stool and the rest of the group follows suit wanting to hear this too. Rooster has to weave between a few people but walks right up to them, setting his empty beer down at the bar.

“How ya been, Y/n?”

Rooster interrupts their conversation, not really caring about the look Phoenix is giving him. She’s cutting him obvious daggers, worrying that he would scare away the girl that she hasn’t been able to catch up with in a while. Now that Y/n’s looked up at him, he can’t break eye contact. He can smell her shampoo from here, still the same. Her eyes still look as enchanting as ever. His heart started pounding a little harder than it was before he had her full attention.

Y/n’s breath falters, not expecting Bradley to be so forward, she expected awkwardness and maybe a nod in each other's directions. Now that he’s standing in front of her she can finally give in and take in how he looks. He looks better than she wants him to. Taller. Broader. Maybe he’s just standing straighter? Does he have something to prove?

“I’ve been good, Rooster.” Calling him by his callsign hurts, Hangman lets out a low whistle when he hears it. Everyone knows why that has a little kick to it. To Y/n it felt almost too personal to call him by his first name, but when they were dating she had a rule that the callsign wasn’t for her because everyone called him that. His actual first name was much more rare to hear and that made it more special. The group had always teased her by calling him a name they so rarely heard. They all knew this and how intentional it was now.

“Yeah, you look good.” Rooster admits, his heart racing. Bold. Bold to say something like that to an ex girlfriend and even more bold considering he’s saying this to her date’s face. Being this close to her again makes it feel like old times. He has to fight the urge to pull her right into his chest. He doesn't get to do that anymore. It looks like that privilege belongs to someone else now.

Y/n’s face flushes red for a second and she turns to look at her date who isn’t looking pleased. Looking to break the tension Phoenix clears her throat, still looking shocked at Rooster for being so forward.

“So, who’s this?” Phoenix questions, looking at the man who is also in service uniform like the rest of them. The slight difference is the amount of badges that sit on his chest.

“This is Will.” Y/n introduces to the group, she finds it hard to meet Rooster’s eye now as he takes in the man who has her all wrapped up. His fingers wrap around the side of her waist, keeping her close.

“Captain Bennett?” Bob speaks up, recognizing his former Captain now that they’re in a large group. Bob wasn’t around when Rooster and Y/n were dating, but he’s heard a lot about it since. Bennett was his captain for a few months when he was overseas.

“Bob!” He shakes his hand, they step off to the side to catch up. Y/n doesn’t know who Bob is but it seems he’s a part of the group Rooster is with. Y/n takes a long sip of the beer that Will had bought for her. If she’s going to stay in this bar she’s going to need something a lot stronger to get through the night.

“Did he say Captain?” Hangman echoes, a smirk growing on his face and he turns to look at Rooster and let out a laugh.

“That sucks, man.” He pats a clap on his chest and that Rooster brushes off.

“I need a drink.” He mutters before turning away from the group, the group shifts back to the area around the pool table so there’s more room to talk.

Y/n makes her rounds of hugs to everyone who she hadn’t seen in a long time, introducing Will to them as she does. They catch up for a bit while also keeping a watchful eye on Rooster who is slamming back drinks at the bar. He seems to be drinking this away. Y/n watches him throw back another shot before slowly walking back to join them.

“-so I actually graduated early with honors.” Will answers with a smirk, Y/n can’t even remember the question he was asked that led to him rattling off his accomplishments, she was hardly paying attention to him at this point. Her mind racing over seeing Rooster again. They didn’t end on the best terms, and it seems like it might stay that way

“Oh fuck off” Rooster laughs, sitting back down to join the group. He brings a wave of whiskey with him, the hard liquor definitely taking an effect in the last ten minutes.

“Excuse me?” Will questions, raising his brows to the man he’s hardly met.

“Tell us one more time about your marksman scores, I don’t think I heard you the first two times.” Rooster jabs, getting a couple of laughs out of the men around them. Maybe Will was talking louder than she thought, she hardly noticed. Her face plainly goes red at the sudden outburst.

“Rooster, don’t.” Y/n cuts, her eyes serious and tone threatening.

“What?” Rooster shrugs, his inebriated shoulders slouch with drama. “Did you feel a need to come show off your shiny new Navy boyfriend, Y/n?”

Everyone is quiet taking in Rooster’s out of character bitter tone.

“Do you have a problem?” Will asks, unsure of why some guy he’s never met has such a problem with him.

“No problem here! Seems like Y/n is a fan of navy men, so good luck with that.”

“Rooster-” Phoenix tries to stop him.

“What, Nix? She brought a date here? Don’t try and tell me I’m in the wrong on this.” He finishes off the rest of his drink, setting it down on the pool table before leaning against it to face the couple. He knows if Penny looks over she would chew him out, but he’s too drunk and pissed to care right now.

“It’s only our second date Rooster, we haven’t had the ex-boyfriend talk yet. And for your information, not that you deserve it, I didn’t pick the place. I don’t know if you noticed but this is the first time I’ve been back here in a year.” She bites back defending herself. Managing to stay composed and it pisses him off even more. How is she this calm?

“Right? And I should believe that?”

“Wow, you’re really on one tonight, aren’t you?” Y/n laughs but her anger is showing on her face more now. “Is this making you feel better?”

“Maybe we should go sit somewhere else.” Will clears his throat standing up, placing a hand at the back of her waist.

“I think that's a good idea.” Y/n agrees, they get up to move to a different spot in the bar.

“I’m never gonna love again, that shit isn’t worth it.” Rooster says while shaking his head softly. His words felt quiet enough to think only the guys closest to him will hear, but the drinks he’s consumed are convincing him he’s quieter than he actually is.

She stops in her tracks the second she hears the words he mutters to himself.

“You can’t rewrite history, Rooster. Why don’t you leave? You’ve always done it better than me.”

Rooster’s heart pangs with guilt. She’s right, and that’s part of why he’s let alcohol take over since she came in.

It’s true, he can’t rewrite their history. He can’t change the fact that he was always leaving and finally she had enough of that. Couldn’t blame her for dumping him after two and a half years together when he left on a boys trip less than a week after his return from a nine month deployment. He didn’t even know why he did it, he knew it was gonna crush her for him to leave without her by choice for another week just to spend time with guys he had just been deployed with. Granted, all of his friends didn’t have anyone to come home to, something that he had taken advantage of. He was still in shock to come home to a half empty apartment when he came back from the boys getaway.

Captain Bennett leads her away and Rooster turns back to the pool table to make himself stop watching. The guys rerack to start a new game and he can feel Phoenix glaring at him.

“What?” He turns to look at her, he might as well have a tail tucked between his leg with how he’s avoiding eye contact.

“That was ugly, Rooster.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“What, and going on a date with someone else here isn’t?” He defends himself.

“Yeah, and it’s not like you’ve spent the last year hung up on her, right?” Phoenix huffs sarcastically checking his shoulder before breaking away to walk up to the bar.

“The one that got away.” Handman laughs, shaking his head at his somewhat friend.

“Can it, Hangman.”

“No, actually I think I’m finally not the one leaving someone hanging out to dry tonight.” He pats Rooster’s chest mockingly as he steps around to the other side of the table.

Rooster sees Phoenix approach you and your date at your new table standing there talking. He takes a seat and watches the team continue on playing their game but his mind is elsewhere. He manages to get ahold of another shot, and another beer which is the last thing he needs right now. Phoenix eventually returns from speaking with Y/n but her icy attitude towards Rooster hasn’t faded.

Rooster stands to join in the next game, his knees buckle a little when he sees your previous table now vacant. He can’t tell if he stumbles because you left or from all of the drinks.

“I think you need some fresh air.” Y/n states, taking in his sloppy state. She didn’t leave? He looks to his side to see her standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest. Anger is still rolling off her in waves. He was too focused on scanning where she went to see her pop up right next to him.

“I think that you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.” He fires back, “Where’s Mr. Perfect?”

“Alright, let’s go.” Y/n rolls her eyes before roughly grabbing the arm of his shirt and dragging him out of the bar to the back deck. She knows that he’s going to get an earful tomorrow from the rest of the squad for letting you drag him out on his ass.

The breeze is nice and cool. She doesn’t let go until she can plant him down at one of the tables outside. The noise from the bar is still loud, but quiet enough to hear the waves too. He sits, leaning his back against the table behind him but she doesnt move to sit.

“You’ve been a real prick tonight, Bradley.”

He can’t ignore the fact that this is the first time all night she’s actually used his name. He missed hearing it.

“I didn’t expect to be best friends or anything after our breakup, but I didn’t think you would completely lose it and turn into someone unrecognizable. What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t think that most ex-boyfriends are too thrilled to see their girl on a date with someone else in their favorite bar.”

“Your girl?”

“Fuck, you know that you’re my girl. Everyone knows that! At least until you broke up with me!” Bradley shouts loud enough to turn his face red. “You’re the one that got us here.”

“I broke up with you because you were never fucking here, not because I stopped being yours! You left! You always fucking leave! That is never going to change.”

“What and another navy man is going to be around?”

“You and I both know you were gone more than when the Navy needed you.”

A knife to Bradley’s chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s great, you’re sorry and I’m done. I’m going home.”

“Y/n wait-“ He stands, a little dizzy but holding himself up.

“I don’t wait around anymore, Bradley.” She gives him one last look before opening the door to go back in the Hard Deck, “You taught me that.”

Bradley lowers himself back down to sit when you disappear back into the bar. How did he end up here?

do we need a part two?! lmk 🫶🏼

[sk-touchthesun]

It has been a bit over a month since the first time I watched Dead Boy Detectives and I now have watched it from start to finish four times. Oops. I don't know how that happened—I certainly wasn't prepared for this level of love for a series.

Since I haven't really been in any fandoms or tumblr in, like... ten years or whatever, I wanted to write about why I fell in love with Dead Boy Detectives when I saw the series for the first time. I don't know if anyone's interested in reading a long-ish post, but in case you are, buckle up because this is going to be pure love and positivity from start to finish. It's mainly about Edwin and Charles, though.

I started watching the show without any background information and never having seen the Sandman either. I rotate streaming services and it was Netflix's turn. I read queer fiction quite a lot and watch queer movies and series as a hobby, and remembered someone mentioning Dead Boy Detectives.

The beginning on the series was intriguing enough already, but it was during this scene that I knew I was going to watch the entire thing:

This leads me to the reason I love the series so much: the carrying force of the story is the love Edwin and Charles have for each other, be it platonic or romantic. I'm a sucker for themes like found family and being loved as your authentic self because that's something I crave. I have always been more or less lonely because of social anxiety and struggling with social situations. Perhaps that's why stories containing those themes have such a profound effect on me each time.

Of course, the way the series combines elements of horror and comedy with heartwarming and wholesome sweetness is delightfully refreshing in itself. Dead Boy Detectives kept me glued to the screen so that I finished it in a day the first time I watched it. However, the characters are what makes the show so brilliant. I think the cast in general is phenomenal, but it's the love between Edwin and Charles that I felt most while watching.

This obviously is where I have to praise George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri for their acting. I think it's largely thanks to them that I love Edwin and Charles so much. Their characters' chemistry and the fond way Edwin and Charles interact with each other in the series is something I felt viscerally right from the beginning. It's obviously ingrained in the overall plot, but the love can also be felt in the smallest gestures. How many shows do you have where your favorite character dying is one of your favorite moments in the series because it's so sweet? (I'm sure you can deduce my favorite character from this...)

Personally, I also think that George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri's acting is particularly spellbinding during the moments their characters break down and show raw emotion. In an odd way the characters' suffering is what makes episodes like The Case of the Devlin House and The Case of the Very Long Stairway so brilliant. The characters' emotions during their most vulnerable moments are so tangible.

I know there has been talk about how season two would look like if the series was revived, and honestly, I think there's one crucial thing that should be kept as it is or the entire thing would be ruined: the carrying force of the show being that Edwin and Charles are willing to do anything to not to get separated.

I can't see any universe where someone becomes more important to the two main characters than what they're to each other. Charles says that Edwin is the only person he'd go to Hell for. We know how Edwin feels. The love is there already. If either of them had a long-lasting romance with someone else, the love interest would get two with the price of one. Equally important? Well—possibly. Love isn't finite. More important? Never.

I'd like to see Edwin and Charles get together, though. They're like an old married couple already and I can't imagine them being together with anyone else in the long run. At least the first season left things open enough for interpretation, with the cancellation and all.

Last but not least, it's a bit crazy that I only saw the show for the first time a bit over a month ago and was ready to splurge on a cameo. It was my birthday during the gameoden week and I got a birthday message! It was very sweet and has cheered me up ever since. I'm not sharing it here because I feel it's a bit personal with my birthday and all, but I loved it.

In case you ended up reading all this, thanks for reading my love letter for the show and the characters and the actors!

[uniquexusposts]

Forbidden territory | F. Alonso

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a good friend of Fernando Alonso. She has always had a thing for the good-looking Spanish driver. Note: I can't stop thinking about the TV series Rivals, oh goodness. I am obsessed. This one shot is based on the book/TV series - Taggie and Rupert - created by Jilly Cooper :)

The terrace was alive with soft conversation and the clink of glasses as the evening unfolded in the warm, golden glow of the Spanish summer. It was an evening to celebrate the mid-summer break of Formula 1 - the dinner was hosted by a good friend of Y/n’s father. Y/n tried to focus on the light chatter around her, the familiar sound of her family’s voices mixing with the laughter of friends. Her mind, however, was miles away, fixed on a far more complicated subject.

Fernando Alonso. 

She couldn’t help it. Even though he was surrounded by a small crowd, his presence was undeniable, pulling her attention like a magnetic force. She had thought she could keep it together, thought she could pretend that the way he looked at her; those brief, searching glances - meant nothing. But the truth was, every time their gazes met, her heart raced a little faster.

She glanced over at him now, pretending to adjust her hair, but her eyes locked with his before she could look away. Fernando didn’t look away, though. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and there was something unmistakably knowing in it. He was talking to someone next to him, but he kept looking into her eyes with a grin on his lips. 

It was just like him; too sure of himself, too good at this. Too aware of the effect he had on her.

And yet, there was something else in his eyes, something softer, a little more vulnerable, hidden beneath that cocky exterior. Fernando had always been so confident, so untouchable. But there was a shift in the way he looked at her tonight. A shift that made Y/n feel both alive and dangerously exposed.

She quickly turned away, pretending to engage in a conversation with her father, but her pulse didn’t slow down. She could feel his presence in the area like a weight pressing down on her chest. He wasn’t even near her, and yet, it was as if he were the only person in the world.

Fernando wasn’t like this with anyone else. Y/n had seen it. He was always charming, always witty, but he never seemed to linger like this, not like he did with her. They got introduced to each other two years ago, and ever since the first moment she looked at him, something changed within her. Which was weird, because she was only 20 years old at that time, and he was 41 years old. He practically could be her father. 

Her mind raced, but she fought to keep her composure. Then, as though he had read her thoughts, she saw him rise from his seat, moving through the crowd with that confident ease of his. Every step seemed measured, calculated, like he knew exactly how to get to her.

When he slid into the seat next to her, so naturally, so casually, it was as though nothing had changed, as though they were two people who had always sat here, side by side. But Y/n could feel the difference. She could feel the intensity in the air, thick with unsaid words, too much tension to ignore.

“You know, you’re looking a little too serious for someone who just watched a race,” Fernando said, his voice light, teasing. He leaned back in his chair, an elbow casually resting on the table, so close that their shoulders brushed, sending an unintentional shiver down her spine.

“I’m just tired,” she said, too quickly. Too defensively. She hoped her words would mask the rush of adrenaline she was feeling. “It’s been a long day.”

“Long day,” he repeated, his lips curling in a smirk. There was something about the way he said it that made her heart skip. Something about the way he wasn’t just looking at her, but seeing her. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.

Her gaze flickered over to him, catching the playful glint in his eyes. 

He wasn’t fooled by her words. He never was. “You know,” he continued, leaning in just a little closer, “you might be better off saying what you really mean.”

Y/n’s breath hitched in her chest, but she refused to let him see it. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re thinking about something,” he said, voice soft, but each word was laced with a teasing challenge. “Something you don’t want to admit to. I can hear your brains work, Y/n, all the way from the other side of the terrace.” 

His eyes held hers as if daring her to deny it. And damn him, it was hard not to. He was right, of course. She could feel the tension in her chest, like a string pulled taut, but she refused to let it show. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his presence affected her.

“No,” Y/n said, her voice firmer than she felt. “I’m just enjoying the party, processing the weekend, mentally preparing for the upcoming workweek.” Too much excuses. 

Fernando raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Are you, though?”

The question hung in the air, and Y/n tried not to let it faze her. But he was so close. So close, with that knowing, amused expression. Fernando had always been like this; smug, unflappable, the kind of man who would make a joke at the expense of anyone, especially if it made him seem even more irresistible. And he knew just how to use that power.

He was dangerous.

Forbidden territory. 

She glanced away for a moment, trying to gather herself, but when she turned back to him, he was still watching her with that quiet intensity, as if he could see through her every facade. It made her heart skip.

“What did you think of the race?” he asked, casually taking a sip of his drink, but his eyes never left hers.

“I thought you drove brilliantly,” she answered, trying to keep it light. She needed to keep it light. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

“Of course,” Fernando said with a chuckle. “I always know when I’ve done well.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the cockiness in his tone. It wasn’t arrogance, really, it was just… certainty. An unshakable confidence that made everything he did seem effortless. She tried to settle into the moment, forcing her attention back to the conversation at hand. But her mind was still buzzing from their exchange. There was a tension in the air now, thick and electric, but she did her best to ignore it. After all, this wasn’t the time or place for anything more. She needed to stay composed.

Fernando, however, was still too close. She could feel the weight of his presence even though he wasn’t saying anything. His quiet intensity was almost too much, like the calm before a storm. And then, just as she was starting to think she could breathe a little easier, she felt him shift in his chair.

A woman, dressed in a sleek black dress, approached their table, speaking to Fernando in soft tones. Y/n watched as he stood up, offering her a polite smile and a casual wave to Y/n.

"I’m afraid I need to step away for a moment," Fernando said with a half-smile. "Excuse me, please.”

The woman’s voice was low, her words inaudible to Y/n, but the way Fernando turned toward her, offering his full attention, was enough to make Y/n’s stomach drop. There was something about the way he seemed so… interested, so ready to follow her, that made something twist uncomfortably in Y/n’s chest.

Her breath caught, but she forced a smile, her gaze flicking to her drink. “Of course,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was agreeing to. He had already turned his back to her, following the woman toward the other side of the terrace.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to let herself feel anything about it. She wasn’t about to let it bother her.

But it did.

Y/n tried to push the feeling aside as she picked up her glass, taking a long sip, the cool liquid barely soothing the fire that had ignited in her chest. He was just being polite. That was all. There was nothing to it.

Still, she couldn’t shake the image of him with the woman, the way he had given her his full attention. It was... something.

To distract herself, Y/n looked around the terrace, letting her eyes roam. It wasn’t long before she found another person she recognised; someone her own age, a man who was a friend of the family. She gave him a smile, the easy kind that she used to cover up whatever was swirling inside of her.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, trying her best to sound casual as she slid into the seat across from him.

"Of course," he said, flashing her a grin. "I’m happy for the company.”

Y/n began talking to him about the latest news in Barcelona, keeping her focus on the conversation, on anything but Fernando. But even as the words left her mouth, she felt the familiar tug of his presence.

She glanced toward the other side of the terrace, almost unwillingly, and there he was. Fernando. He was standing beside the woman now, his side turned to Y/n as he spoke with her. The woman was laughing, her hand resting lightly on his arm, and it seemed like they were getting along far too well. Y/n’s gaze lingered just a second too long, but she quickly forced herself to look away. She focused back on the man in front of her, offering another polite smile, though it felt more strained now, like she was pretending to be something she wasn’t.

But then, again, her eyes betrayed her.

Fernando was looking at her.

It wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but to Y/n, it was unmistakable. Their eyes met, just for a second, before he quickly turned his attention back to the woman. Still, the brief flicker of awareness between them was enough to make her heart race. He had noticed her, even from across the terrace.

Y/n’s breath caught, and she looked down at the table to hide the flush that had crept into her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why it affected her so much. She shouldn’t care. It was none of her business. 

The conversation with the man in front of her continued, but it felt distant now, like she was only half-listening. Every few moments, her eyes would unconsciously flick back to Fernando. He was still talking to the woman, but every now and then, his gaze would meet hers again, brief but intense, like he was checking in on her.

It wasn’t enough for her to accuse him of anything, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, after all, but it felt like something was building between them, something that couldn’t be ignored. He was trying to stay composed, just as she was, but there was an unmistakable pull between them. 

She cleared her throat and tried to focus. “So, what about the new project you’re working on?” she asked her conversation partner, forcing her mind back to the present. She couldn’t let herself get lost in thoughts of Fernando. Not now. Not when he was over there, talking to someone else.

But even as she spoke, her eyes would wander back to him, drawn to him like a magnet. She couldn’t stop herself. There was something about the way his gaze would flick back to hers every few minutes, like he couldn’t quite leave her alone, like he wasn’t ready to let the moment between them end just yet.

And every time he looked at her, her heart would beat just a little faster.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let it show. She wasn’t going to let herself care.

She forced a smile as her companion spoke about a recent project, but her thoughts were elsewhere. There was no denying it now: Fernando was aware of her. More than that, he was watching her.

And maybe, just maybe, she was watching him too.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @ironmaiden1313@blodwyn4u@sltwins@heart-trees

[lachencha]

Cien Años: Anya Mouthwashing x Reader

Please enjoy! I hope you guys like it!

Warnings?: Anya kinda having a breakdown, and death :(

I remember when I first met you. We were both in college. I remember when you first passed by me, our eyes met, and you still passed with no regard. But for some reason, in that moment, I found myself drawn to you. Though you didn't see me, I saw you. Though you didn't hear me, I heard you. I thought it was just a crush, but I would've never possibly thought that you would become the sun of my life.

You remember sitting at the same table as her in your anatomy lab. She didn't really talk to you unless it was to ask a question or pass along whatever unit you were studying. But then again, you never made much of an effort to talk to her either. Still, no matter what, you both sat next to each other every lab, a quiet, unremarkable duo. And that was that—or so you thought.

Then the new semester began, and there she was again, in another class with you.

There was no way you could talk to her, you told yourself. No way.

It started with a small conversation—just a casual exchange, the kind you could've had with anyone else. But none of them were her. None of them were Anya.

You soon found her to be ambitious, focused. She knew she wanted to be a doctor, and she'd known since she became a CNA at sixteen. That's when she realized she wanted to help people—anyone, everyone. You admired her for her determination, her heart, and her resilience. You admired her for simply being her.

And that's how it started.

You became friends, meeting at the library to study, sneaking snacks in your bags, and finding the farthest corner where no one would bother you. You tried to stay quiet, when you were together, everything was funny. You almost got kicked out twice before realizing that maybe studying in the dorm rooms was a better option.

Even though your majors were different, studying with her became something to look forward to. Just having someone to keep you on track felt like enough, but you soon found yourself getting distracted.

It was the way she adjusted her glasses. The way she frowned ever so slightly when she lost her page. The way she teased you when she caught you staring. She was mesmerizing. She made you feel things you'd never felt before, things no past girlfriend or boyfriend had ever stirred in you.

She was everywhere—living full-time in your thoughts and your heart. No matter what you did, you always found a way back to her.

With Anya in your life, it felt like there could never be more rainy days. Her smile being enough to pull the sun from the clouds, making everyday a sunny day.

And somewhere along the way, you realized you were falling for her. Desperately. Completely.

You'd never expected it, not on the first day you saw her. You didn't sense it coming. But now it consumed you.

You thought you hid it well. You were sure she hadn't noticed. Anya was always focused—engrossed in her books, attentive in class. There was no way she'd caught on.

But she had.

You weren't as subtle as you thought. The way you tried to brush her hand. The way you laughed and immediately looked to see if she was laughing too. It was written all over you.

And she called you out on it one night.

The glow of the laptop cast soft, shifting light across your faces as the movie played on. You hadn't said a single word in ten minutes. Your gaze kept drifting—no, pulling—to her. The flutter of her lashes, the curve of her cheek, the way her hand rested just a breath away from yours on the blanket.

She adjusts her position, her shoulder brushing yours, and whispers teasingly, "You're not even watching."

Her voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you realized she caught you mid-stare.

Your breath hitched. You could've denied it. Maybe you should have. But there was no point.

She turned slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to face you, the movie forgotten. "If you're going to keep looking at me like that," she murmured, her voice low and steady, "you might as well just go for it."

Your heart pounded. The scent of her strawberry shampoo filled your senses, and every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the gap.

When you finally kissed her, it was everything you imagined—and more.

It felt like the world stopped spinning, like a weight you didn't realize you carried had been lifted. It was a moment you knew you'd never forget.

That was your first kiss. And every time you think of it, you can't help but smile.

After that, you were hers, and she was yours.

It wasn't a fantasy anymore. It was real. And it was everything.

We started off as friends but we were both aware that we could be more. It started with one kiss. One kiss and my life began to feel like a never ending dream. Because with you in my life, there are no rainy days, with your kisses you have erased the scars in my heart. With you, there are no more lonely nights, and they are once again wonderful, knowing that I get to hold you close, and wake up each morning with you.

"When we graduate, where would you want to live? I think I'd want to live in the suburbs," Anya murmurs, shifting closer to you."It's quieter and way better for driving. The apartment is nice, but do you really want to keep hearing our drunk-ass neighbors every night?"

You chuckle and lean your head against hers. "I think I'd like the suburbs too, but wouldn't we still have to drive a lot just to get to work?" You try to calculate the drive times in your head, but her warmth against you makes it hard to focus.

Anya lets out a little laugh, "Yeah, but don't you remember that time we went to that pumpkin patch?"

"The one near Martin County?"

She nods, her face lighting up. "Yes! That one!"

A smile tugs at your lips as you watch her talk about how much she loved that little town. Her eyes shine with excitement, and you can't help but feel your chest tighten. It's in these quiet, unassuming moments that makes you realize just how much you love her. Waking up next to her every morning feels like a gift. Even when she accidentally kicks you awake because she's running late, or when her alarm blares three times before she finally turns it off.

With graduation looming, the two of you spend so much time talking about the future. Right now, it's one of many conversations: Where should you live? What kind of house should you buy? How many pets should you adopt? The questions pile up, but none of it feels overwhelming. With her, the future doesn't feel scary—it feels like something to look forward to.

Whether it's the good or the bad, you love every single part of her. When she almost burned down the kitchen trying to microwave something wrapped in foil. When she was thirty minutes late picking you up from work but made it up to you with your favorite coffee. When she stayed up all night to help you with that essay you couldn't finish. When she cut up fruit for you on a bad day because she knew you needed comfort.

You look at her now, rambling about the pumpkin patch, and you can't help but interrupt.

"I love you, Anya."

She blinks, caught off guard, her lips parting slightly. "Where did that come from?"

You shrug, a soft laugh slipping out. "I don't know. I just wanted to tell you."

Her cheeks flush, but she quickly smirks and lightly slaps your chest. "Don't do that! You scared me for a second."

You laugh and pull her closer, burying your face in her neck as you pepper her skin with kisses. She's laughing too, her hands weakly pushing against you.

Moments like this make everything else fade away. Whatever happens next, you know one thing for certain: you're the luckiest person in the world to love her and be loved by her.

Along with your kisses, give me your sorrows, your sighs, give me your pain. Let me wipe your tears. I'll remind you of your strength, and lift you up when you are low. Because the foundation of our love is stronger than any challenge life throws at us.

"I didn't make it in."

Her voice cracks, barely above a whisper, as she grips the rejection letter, crumpling it in trembling hands.

Your heart shatters at the sight of her tears. Without a second thought, you pull her into your arms, her body collapsing against yours as she sobs. She clings to you like you're the only thing holding her together, her cries muffled against your shoulder. You gently rub circles into her back, hoping it might soothe the ache you know you can't take away.

"It's my second rejection," she chokes out, her words jagged. "I—I can't take the test for another year. What am I going to do?" Her tears fall harder now, streaking her face as despair overtakes her.

You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs across her wet cheeks. "Anya, it's going to be okay. The MCAT is one of the hardest tests in the world—"

She jerks away, shaking her head as fresh tears spill over. "But I worked so hard! Hours, days, weeks! I thought I had it this time! I wasn't even close." Her voice cracks, rising with every word. "How can I be so stupid?" She buries her face in her hands, her words muffled but sharp. "They're going to bar me from taking it because I'm a fucking idiot!"

"Anya, stop—"

"Five more attempts." Her voice drops to a whisper, full of fear and self-loathing. "That's all I have left."

You reach for her hands, gently pulling them away from her face, your heart aching as her shoulders shake. "Anya, listen to me. You're not stupid. You're brilliant. You've worked so hard, and I know how much this means to you. Don't let this stop you. You can try again, and I'll be right here to help you through it. Every step of the way."

Her wide, tear-filled eyes search yours. "You don't think I'm stupid?" she hiccups, her voice trembling.

"I would never think that," you say softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "You're the smartest, most determined person I know. And I know you can make your dreams come true. I believe in you, Anya, and I'll do everything I can to help you."

Her lip quivers, and she nods, finally letting herself melt into your arms again. She buries her face in your chest, her sobs quieter now as you hold her close, cradling her with all the love you can give.

You had me so accustomed to your love, that the biggest challenge for me were the months that I had to be away from you, your hugs, and your kisses. Waiting at home like an abandoned puppy, wishing for you to come back home already.

"I need to talk to you."

You look up from your plate, signaling that she's got your attention.

"I got a job interview." She murmurs, pushing her food around with her fork.

You immediately sense something is off, but you try to mask it.

"That's great! But... what's wrong with the job you have now?"

"Nothing. But this company offers nursing classes. I could train to be a nurse there."

Your brows furrow. "What company?"

She hesitates, then barely gets the words out. "The Pony Express."

You pause mid-bite, the fork hovering in the air. "Wait, isn't that the company that does shipments in space?"

She slowly nods.

"You're not thinking of getting on one of those ships, right?"

Her eyes dart away.

"Anya."

"Shipments only take a few months," she says quickly. "The money is supposed to be pretty good."

"Anya."

"I'll be gone for a little while, but with that check, you wouldn't have to work so much. We could finally get a house together. I could finally—" her voice cracks, "I could finally be something."

You set your fork down and lean back, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "You don't have to—"

"I do!" she snaps, tears spilling over. "Do you think I like being stuck here? Stuck in this same place, day after day, while you go to work with a purpose and I—" She swallows hard. "I can't do it anymore. I need this."

Her words cut deep, and you know she's not wrong, you know it's been killing her. Still, the thought of her being out there, alone, on one of those ships...

"Anya, it's dangerous. You've heard the stories about what can go wrong out there. It's not worth the risk."

"I don't care." Her voice softens, breaking apart. "For once in my life, I want to feel like I'm going somewhere."

You sigh, your shoulders slumping. As much as you hate the idea, as much as it twists in your gut, you can see it in her eyes—this is something she has to do.

"Are you mad at me?" she asks, her voice small.

You shake your head, barely meeting her gaze. "No. I just—" The words catch in your throat, but you push them out. "If this is what you want to do... I'm not going to stop you. I'll support you. No matter what."

She reaches across the table and takes your hand. "Thank you."

Her smile is fragile, but you force one in return. Even if it hurts, you'll stand by her.

And it did hurt.

When she finally stepped onto that damn ship, you told yourself you'd be okay. You told her you'd be okay. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. Every fiber of you wanted to grab her hand and pull her back, beg her not to go. But you didn't. You couldn't. She needed this, and you had promised—promised—to support her no matter what.

The first few days, you checked the clock constantly, imagining where she might be in the vastness of space. The silence between you felt like an eternity. No calls. No messages. Just the void. Seven months, you told yourself. Seven months without hearing her laugh, seeing her eyes light up, or feeling her fingers brush against yours.

It felt like an eternity.

Nights were the worst. The bed seemed colder, emptier than ever, like it was mocking you. Dinner tasted bland, the silence deafening. You'd catch yourself staring at her empty seat, whispering things you wished you'd said before she left.

But when those long, torturous months finally passed, and you saw her standing there on the dock, it was like the world finally started spinning again.

You didn't think—you just ran. Ran through the crowd, past the families and her fellow crew members. You didn't care who saw. You crashed into her, your arms wrapping around her like they never wanted to let go again.

And she didn't care either. No teasing, no scolding. Her lips were on yours before you could even speak, her hands gripping you as tightly as you held her. For a moment, it was like the whole world disappeared—just you and Anya, tangled up in each other.

"I missed you so much," you whispered, your voice cracking. You buried your face against her neck, breathing her in.

"I missed you too," she murmured, her breath warm against your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, your hands stayed on her shoulders, as if to reassure yourself she was real. You smiled through the tears threatening to spill. "Do you want me to take you out? You must be starving after seven months of... whatever you guys eat up there."

She laughed—a real, warm laugh that you hadn't heard in far too long. "I just want to go home."

On the drive, she talked about everything: the fear when the ship launched, the monotony of the days, the quiet moments alone. But then her voice softened.

"The hardest part was being without you," she said, turning to you, her eyes glistening. "The moment I got on that ship, I regretted it. Every single day, I regretted it." She hesitated, her voice catching. "The contract's for two shipments, but after this next one, I'm taking the test again."

You pulled into the driveway and turned to her, your heart swelling. "I'm proud of you, Anya."

She blinked at you, surprised. "For what? I haven't done anything yet."

"For not giving up," you said softly, your smile trembling as you looked at her. "You've always been stronger than you think, Anya. Even when things feel impossible, you keep going. That's what I love about you. No matter how hard it gets, you never stop reaching for what you want."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked down, her hands twisting in her lap. You reached out, gently tilting her chin so she'd meet your gaze.

"I'm proud of you—not because you went to space, or because of what you're planning to do next—but because you never stop trying."

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead, she just looked at you, her eyes searching yours, shimmering with the tears she refused to let fall.

"Anya," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

But then she shook her head, a faint, trembling smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "You don't get it," she said, her voice breaking. "It's you. You're the reason I keep going. You're the reason I don't give up."

You didn't think, you just leaned in, your hand cradling her cheek, and kissed her. It was soft at first, careful, almost tentative, but when her hands found your shirt and gripped it tightly, pulling you closer, it deepened.

Nothing else mattered—not the months apart, not the uncertainty of the future. Just the warmth of her lips, the way she breathed your name against your mouth, the feeling of her heart pounding as fiercely as yours.

When you finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps.

"I missed this," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"Me too," you said, your thumb brushing gently against her cheek. "But we're here now. Together."

She smiled again, this time a little stronger, and kissed you once more—this time slower, as if to savor every second.

"Let's go inside," she said softly.

And this time, you didn't argue.

Her next shipment was longer than the first—over a year this time. You knew you'd never get used to the long stretches of time apart, but you clung to her promise. Just this one last shipment, she'd said, and then she'd take the test again. Then she could finally chase her dream. Just one year. You told yourself you could survive one year.

You were driving home from work when the phone call came. At first, you didn't think much of it, glancing at the unfamiliar number on the screen before answering.

"Hello, is this (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"Yes, this is (Y/N)."

"Hello, (Y/N). I'm calling from The Pony Express. We have your number listed as the emergency contact for Anya Musume."

Your stomach dropped. "Is she okay?"

The voice on the other end hesitated—a moment too long. "Are you driving right now?"

Panic clawed at your chest. "Yes! What's going on? Is Anya okay?"

"I'm going to ask you to pull over. Please, for your safety."

Your hands were already trembling as you flicked on your hazard lights and swerved into a nearby parking lot, barely noticing where you ended up. You turned off the car, but your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

"I've pulled over," you said, your voice cracking. "Just tell me—please—is she okay?"

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then, in a voice carefully measured but edged with regret, the caller spoke.

"(Y/N), Anya was aboard our space freighter Tulpar. A few days ago, we lost contact with the ship following a crash."

You gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. "What do you mean, crash?"

The voice softened, though it didn't waver. "We regret to inform you that the crash was catastrophic. All evidence suggests that there were no survivors, including Anya and the other four crew members. We are currently searching for the wreckage to confirm, but... we believe the loss was total."

It felt as though the air had been sucked from your lungs. For a moment, you couldn't speak. Couldn't even think. And then the words sank in.

"No," you whispered, the denial tearing its way out of your throat. "No, that's not—she promised—"

"I'm so sorry," the voice said quietly. "I truly am."

Your vision blurred with tears, and before you could stop yourself, a sound erupted from your chest—a raw, anguished wail that filled the car. You clutched the wheel as if it could anchor you, but the world around you was already spinning, collapsing, crumbling into nothing.

She was gone. Anya was gone.

The drive home was a blur. You didn't even remember how you made it there, your body moving on autopilot while your mind remained trapped in those words.

No survivors.

You sat in the car for what felt like hours, staring blankly at the steering wheel, as if waiting for the phone to ring again and tell you they'd made a mistake. That she wasn't gone.

But the phone stayed silent.

Inside the house, everything was just as she'd left it. Her favorite mug sat on the counter. The blanket she always curled up with was draped over the couch. The framed photo of the two of you at graduation still sat on the coffee table, her smile so bright and alive.

It felt wrong. It felt impossible.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto the floor. The air felt heavy, like it didn't want to fill your lungs. You pressed your hands to your chest, as if you could physically hold the pieces of your heart together, but it didn't help.

"She can't be gone," you whispered, your voice trembling. "She can't be gone."

The room was silent, but in your mind, you could still hear her laugh. See the way she'd roll her eyes when you teased her. Feel the warmth of her hand slipping into yours.

You'd told yourself so many times that she was coming back. You'd counted down the days, dreamed about the moment she'd walk through the door again.

But now the only thing you had to hold onto was the echo of a promise she could never keep.

Tears streamed down your face as you curled in on yourself, your body shaking with the weight of it all. The emptiness was unbearable, and yet somehow, it was all you had left.

A few months later, you stood alongside the families of the other crew members at a memorial service. The mother of the young intern cried out, a raw and guttural sound, as her husband clutched her trembling frame. She dropped to her knees, screaming that it was her fault, that she should have never let her son work for the company. Your heart ached as her cries echoed in the air—a mother had lost her son, a sister had lost her brother, a wife had lost her husband. And you... you had lost the love of your life.

The wife of the ship's mechanic placed a trembling hand on your shoulder. The two of you stood there, silent yet bound together by a shared pain—both of you had lost the love of your lives.

"You know," you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of it all, "I was going to propose to her when she came back. I even wrote her a speech. But now—"

The words crumbled in your throat, and she pulled you into a fierce embrace.

"We had so many plans," you said, your voice muffled against her shoulder. "A house. Maybe adoption. So many dreams... why?"

And then there were no words, just the shuddering of your bodies as you wept into each other's arms.

At the end of the service, you found yourself alone at her headstone, clutching a weathered piece of paper. It was meant to be the start of something beautiful—the words you'd planned to say when she came home. Now, they were your farewell.

"I remember the first time you walked past me," you began, your voice trembling. "Our eyes met for just a second before you kept walking, completely unaware of what you'd done to me. In that single moment, I felt something shift—like gravity had finally found its center. You didn't see me, but I saw you. You didn't hear me, but I heard you. At first, I thought it was nothing—just a passing crush—but I never imagined that you'd become the sun of my life."

You paused, the ache in your chest nearly unbearable, but you forced yourself to keep going.

"We started off as friends, but we both knew we could be more. And then there was that kiss—the one that changed everything. It wasn't just a kiss—it was the beginning of a dream I never wanted to wake from. Because with you, there were no rainy days. Your love erased every scar, every ache in my heart. You made the nights less lonely, and the mornings something to look forward to. You were my everything."

Your fingers tightened around the paper as tears blurred your vision.

"I would've given you all of me—your pain, your joy, your burdens—I would've carried them all, just to keep you close. You made me strong. You made me whole. You gave me a love that felt invincible, even when you were thousands of miles away. But now..."

Your voice broke, and the paper slipped from your hand. You fell to your knees, tracing her name etched into the cold, unfeeling stone.

"And now, without you, the world feels empty. But I know, no matter how many years pass, no matter how far I go, you'll always be with me. You're tied to my soul, my existence, in a way that even death can't undo."

"And if I lived a hundred years—or a hundred lifetimes—I would still spend every moment loving you."

This was inspired by the song Cien Años by Pedro Infante, a song about unrequited love, but I mostly was inspired by the last lyric:

“And yet, you remain tied to my existence,

and if I live for a hundred years,

then for a hundred years I’ll think of you.”

It’s a beautiful song! I love being mexican 🇲🇽

hope you guys enjoyed :)

[kissorkill16]

I Hate My Eyes: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Nicky tries to get his eyes back to normal.

(P.S., for @limoks-blogs !)

It was the end of the week, and Nicky was slowly starting to get better.

He wasn't sneezing so much anymore, and his throat felt less scratchy. Probably because Mr. Murtaugh had been making him take two spoons of whatever gross cold medicine each day.

Thankfully, Nicky was getting better, and he wouldn't have to take any of that stuff for a long time.

But there was one thing Nicky wished would get better.

His eyes.

He didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him. They didn't sting, strain or burn or anything, they were just...brown. At first, he didn't really care, but he noticed how a couple of people kept pointing it out.

His eyes were once jade, now they were brown.

Those jade eyes he once had made him look so lively and so happy, but now his brown eyes made him look dead inside.

And he didn't like it.

So as soon as he was well enough to go to school again, he waited until everyone was out of Mr. Murtaugh's classroom and went to see him.

He didn't have a session that day, since the science teacher said he had a meeting after school, but Nicky really needed to see him.

He waited until 4:00, slowly falling asleep as he waited for Mr. Murtaugh or anyone else from the meeting to walk out the door like they were finished. He woke up to his shoulder being nudged.

"Nicholas."

Nicky sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Hey.", he said, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Nicky, what are you doing here? I told you I needed to cancel our session today.", said the science teacher.

"I know, it's just that I needed to talk to you about something important."

Mr. Murtaugh led the boy inside his classroom and shut the door behind him. "What did you need to talk about, dear?", he asked.

Nicky looked down at his shoes, then back at Mr. Murtaugh. "Do you notice anything different about me?", he asked.

The science teacher tapped his chin, then he held Nicky's face in his hands and pulled him closer. He looked at both sides of his face, then under his chin, then around the rest of his body.

"Hmm...I'm not sure.", he said. "I normally take notes of what I notice about my students."

Nicky sighed, "It's my eyes."

The science teacher looked at him again, and his eyes widened. "Oh yes, I can't believe I didn't notice. I feel like I should have."

Nicky looked down at his shoes again.

"What's the matter with your eyes? Do they hurt?"

Nicky shook his head, "They were once jade, but now they're brown. I don't like it."

Mr. Murtaugh furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "I'm afraid I still don't understand.", he said.

"People keep pointing out how my eye color has changed ever since I escaped Mr. Peterson's basement. I didn't notice it before, but now that people keep pointing it out, I don't like my eyes at all anymore. I hate them now."

The science teacher gently pulled the boy closer to him, "Nicky, don't say stuff like that.", he said. "I may not know what Mr. Peterson had done to you to make your eyes change colors, but I promise that I will find a way to get them back to normal. Just for you."

Nicky smiled, "Thank you, sir."

"Anytime.", said Mr. Murtaugh, "Now run along, dear."

The next day, when Nicky got home from school, he was surprised to walk into his room and see a small white bottle. He went over to it and picked it up, reading the label.

"Eye Changer"

On the bottle was a little sticky note, and he read the note as he slowly opened the bottle.

"Put two drops of these in your eyes each day and your eyes should be back to normal in no time."

Nicky went to the bathroom and opened the bottle, talking a small bit of it in the tube attached to the cap. He slowly held the tube over his right eye and gently squeezed it, a single drop going into his eye.

The same thing he did to his other eye.

He blinked a couple of times. When he opened his eyes a little bit, he noticed that a small hint of jade was shining through his brown eyes.

He pressed his face to the mirror and smiled so wide, tears falling down his cheeks.

Soon enough, his beautiful jade eyes would turn back to normal, and he'd have his old self back in no time!

[xxknockoutxx]

IM NOT SURE IF UR DOING BLUE LOCK BUT CAN U DO A SHORT OR LONG FANFIC (your choice of how long or short it can be) ABT ISAGI WITH A SPORT PHOTOGRAPHER READER WHOS OBSESSED WITH SOCCER BECAUSE THEY USED TO PLAY SOCCER BUT QUIT SINCE OF INJURIES AND MONEY ISSUES??

OH MY GOSH YOU'RE MY FIRST REQUEST THANK YOU! 😭😭😭

But yeah definitely I hope I don't disappoint 😵‍💫

Smile for the camera!

Syn: A sports photographer has their sights on a certain blue eyed player

Pairs: !former soccer player Y/N x Yoichi Isagi

A/N: Its kinda scrappy but I have been writing as much anymore so yeah sorry. Other than I hope you enjoy it.

NOT PROOFREAD

If there's one thing you would haven't wanted to be imprinted on your grave it'd probably best soccer player in the world. We'll maybe not that far but you were pretty good, good enough to go pro. Well, you were. I mean you could kick a ball for several yards and run across a field with enough speed to dust the enemy team and your team, but those days are over.

Even though your soccer career was over your love for soccer wasn't going anywhere. In fact, it's growing. If you couldn't be on the field playing you could do the next best thing, you could document everything! Specifically, through photography.

So, there you are sitting in the front of the stadium with your overly expensive camera turned on and ready to capture everything. Suddenly everything gets quiet, did you miss something? Did someone hurt? The stadium erupted with screams of excitement as the screen read BLUELOCK.

All of the athletes enter the stadium onto the field and you practically jump out of your seat to capture everything on your camera. Player after player, Meguru Bachira, Seishiro Nagi, Eita Otoya.... Rin itoshi... Man, that dude irritates you. I mean he's cool and all but he doesn't change he performs great every match.

However it's that one wild card that has the stadium quiet, Yoichi Isagi you know that one dude on the field that you're like "oh I know him, he's that one dude" but despite public opinion you thought he was pretty cool. If you were going to record the media of the game, you'd have to be unbiased.

But gosh he was such a rare specimen. So underrated yet so impressive. Look at him; confidently walking across that field. Head up high, taking huge steps, large breaths and an undying fire in his eye. Yup that's him in the flesh alright. Yoichi Isagi was right before you, and ready to play for your amusement.

As the match started it was just as anticipating as you had hoped, kicks, jump, tricks, stuff you were all far fat to accustomed to. Well, used to. Things are different now, you just have to adjust accordingly. I mean it's not all that bad! Just imagine what life would've been like if you never got hurt! It would've been great... If you had the money...

SCORE!!! 0-1

Shit! You just missed the damn goal because you're fantasizing of things you have had a chance of doing! Wait 0-1? The other team scored? Bluelock is losing?

You redirect your attention back to the players, their bodies already glistening with sweat so gracefully under the stadium lights. Wow they look good in those skintight suits and those nice velvety jerseys and of course, he stood out like a sore thumb.

That crazed and passionate look in his eyes it just drove you crazy. FOCUS, record the stupid match! You only have one job so do it well. You focus your camera back onto the field, catching both teams into frame and getting close ups on each member, their skill, their body, their face... Wait.

The match continued like normal with bluelock making their eventual comeback. Top scorer, Rin itoshi and 15 minutes left on the clock. Oh well, it's just going to be another one of those boring matches, same line up with Rin at the top.

You set your camera back up unenthusiastically and kept watching the field the ball was flying across the field at speeds you didn't even know was possible. Oh shit was the enemy team actually about to score!? That's all you could understand after it happened.

There he was, in a trance with those swirly eyes. Rushing past all of his teammates, saving the ball and scoring all by himself. Yup that's right, that's Yoichi Isagi your golden ticket.

After the match was over the score was 5-3 Bluelock won with a prideful stance. Yoichi Isagi was alone! Perfect! This is the perfect time for you to give him this photo you caught of him! But what if he thinks it's creepy or he thinks you're creepy!?

"Hey, are you good there?"

"huh!?" You jump out of your trance at the sound of a voice, his voice.

He shifts his eyes to the photograph in your hand.

"Oh, are you a fan? Do you want me to sign your photograph?"

You stupidly mumble a response. "I- No. I- wan-wan't you to keep it.."

"Oh, wow you took this? I actually look half decent in it. Thank you"

His smile was radiant a sun of light compared to your gloomy clouds. He was so gentle and kind. He took the picture and happily placed it in his pocket, making sure to keep it in a position that would damage the photo as he walked.

You were so panicked and nervous by meeting your idol up close and as he started to make his leave you quickly blurted out.

"I used to play soccer too!"

What. Did he ask? Why would he even c-

"No way, really? Why'd ya stop?" He walked back towards you with a new founded interest.

"I got in an accident so I just moved into my backup; Photography"

He smiled and waved the picture around in the air. "Well you're really good at it!"

Your face grew red and you stuttered out a thank you. He smiled even wider and stuck his hand out happily.

"I'm sure you already know but I'm Yoichi Isagi and you?"

Of course you already knew you've been stalking this guy ever since your accident.

"Y/N"

"Well, thank you Y/N the picture is beautiful. And so are you"

Coming in hot aren't we? Why the fuck did he say that. Why the fuck did I say that? You both kinda just stand there for a moment before smiling and laughing. You can't believe it, you're talking to your idol like you guys are best friends.

"Y/N was it? I gotta go soon, my team is waiting on me so I'll talk to you later"

He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and writes his number on the paper before briefly handing it to you.

"It was great meeting you Y/N! Bye! Have a good day!"

And just like that he was gone, but you were still there holding his number in your hand like a sacred object. (It kinda was.) Not like it mattered you already knew what you were doing when you got home.

Sorry for the rushed ending, 😔 I just wanted to get this out but it was a lot of fun writing definitely would do something like this in the future.

[jtownraindancer]

Blore & Armstrong Running on The Same Wavelength: A Collection

[missazura]

It's been oddly therapeutic to like. Have discussions with him about a lot of life stuff. I don't talk much if at all and I think the gradual descent into loneliness and social anxiety through the years made me lost the ability to talk to people. So it's been nice to practice talking to someone, and it actually hearing me out for some reason, giving me advice etc

Sure it's not a substitute for human connection but it's fun to verbally talk to my favourite fictional character and him just. Being there for me. That I get to hear kind words from my hero, someone who I highly looked up to

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Yeah... I remember seeing the architectural design majors at my uni having this breakdown each semester...

[hecksupremechips]

Time for me to be completely changed as a person! *just watched falsettos*

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’