#i already have green tea bag so...!

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[lostintransist]

You 🫵 gimme sum Nikto 🤲 and i’ll love you forevah 🫶

Since Andre’s been tortured and lead to believe that he’s nothing, a literal nobody, what if reader’s nickname for him or term of endearment is to call him their everything?

“Stay safe, my everything.”

“Come back soon, my everything”

“Ya lyublyu tebya moye vse” (I love you my everything)

“Love I am nothing, ничто.”

You couldn’t keep having this same argument with him, it tore at you. Like sores on your feet with miles to walk this ache in you grew to make him understand that he couldn’t be nothing.

Andre, as he decided to call himself, had no memories further back than pain. It had taken a year and a half before he could sleep in a bed with you. The first night you had been woken by his shivering and muttering, face twisted in agony. Every movement from his body jerked as if fighting off some invisible attacker.

When you made the mistake of touching his shoulder you blinked and found yourself pinned under him. Moonlight winked off his front teeth as he snarled down at you. The always-exposed teeth of his missing lip absorbed the moonlight as if the whiteness of the light could return the color to the enamel.

Panic fluttered in your breast. The man you love is still trapped in nightmares. Cooing up at him you lay soft, gentle words into his ears. He comes back to himself in pieces. The forearm at your throat lessens in pressure, the rigid lines of his torso and legs relax, finally, his eyes, shadowed blue, blink down at you.

Disgust and panic war the scars on his face to be the dominant expression. He flees the bed then. You hear him pause only long enough to grab his boots before the front door is crashing closed behind him.

Knowing better than to chase him, for he took to flight like a hare at the bugle of an elk, you allow yourself five minutes to weep. When you have expunged enough sorrow to stand, you shuffle to the kitchen. Readying two cups with tea leaves you add water to yours and settle in to wait. Every thirty minutes or so you lift yourself off the couch to flick the kettle back on until steam and bubbles mark the water as boiling. That done you drift back to the cushions leaving only the above stove light on to illuminate your flat.

You are practicing your Russian when he creeps back through the front door. Well, you are actually yelling at the green lying bird because Andre taught you this word already and that is not how he said it or you practiced it.

“The bird is wrong.”

“I know the bird is wrong but I have to say it the ‘right’ way to get past this part.” You don’t look up at him as you pronounce the word incorrectly into your phone’s speaker.

Once the app accepts your answer you glance up at him. Cheeks flushed with exertion and cold his eyes shine bluer for the tears pricking his lashes.

Flapping a hand at him you stand, “Sit, sit. I will grab your tea.”

He opens his mouth to argue but the glare you pin him with quells any words on his tongue. The couch creaks behind you as you flick the kettle on once more. The recently heated water bubbles speedily and you return to Andre in no more than a minute, mug in one hand and a small plate for his tea bag in the other. Setting both in front of him on the coffee table you take the opposite side of the couch. One leg tucked under the other you face his profile.

“Are you ready to talk about it or would you like to drink your tea and go back to bed?” You keep your tone casual as if the two options you presented are the only logical ones.

“I cannot stay. I am a danger to you.” The skin of his knuckles creak lightly when he curls them into fists on his thigh. “Love I am nothing, ничто.”

“Your nightmares might be a danger but you? My heart? You are not a danger to me.”

You had called him your heart since the first time you admitted to him that you loved him and wept for him when he was gone.

Mullishly, Andre stares at his lap instead of you. Shifting to the middle cushion you lift his tea bag from the hot water, familiar scents enter the conversation.

“Why do you stab the brain stem, my heart?”

Andre looks at you, confused as to why you are asking in the middle of this conversation.

“To stop all life,” he replies succinctly.

“Could you say,” you scoot a bit closer, fingers resting on his thigh close to his fisted fingers. “That it is to stop the heart?”

His eyebrows cannot come any closer to touching, this question makes them try anyway. He nods once.

“So the heart is more important than the brain?” You look up at him with such innocent eyes.

Weighing his head side to side he considered the question. After an infinitely long time, he nods again.

The hand on his thigh cups his fist now, the other landing on his neck, and the gentle pressure of your thumb keeping his eyes on you. “The heart is everything. Without it there is no life, there is nothing. You, Andre, are my heart, my everything.”

His eyes and pupils both blow wide as your words sink into his comprehension. Gaze flicking over your face tears begin to stream down his cheeks. With your thumb, you direct them away from his teeth. He had told you once that the taste of his tears triggers memories.

“You cannot be nothing if you are everything to me,” you whisper the words as you look back and forth from eye to eye, gauging how your message is received.

A reverence settles over him. He stares at you as if your love has replaced pain as the god of his soul. You wonder if this is how Aphrodite felt when she had godhood bestowed upon her: overwhelmed, humbled, scared shitless, empowered.

Broad hands soft on your waist pulled you close before forcing you flat on the couch. He followed you, shifting until he lay on one side between you and the back head resting on your chest.

In the light from the kitchen casting shadows across your bodies, he tells you of his lived nightmares. Neither of you comments on the growing damp circle of your nightgown or the wet spots that will mark the couch from your eyes. That night he lets you in, becoming more than nothing.

The tea is chilly when you both wake in the morning. Andre drinks it all, eyes on you as he coughs through the dregs.

“Ya lyublyu tebya moye vse,” the caress of his words tell you the meaning of the unfamiliar sounds.

A/N: Well hot damn I feel like I did a good job with this one... Yep this is getting added to my masterlist.

Masterlist

[gotta-winwin]

⭐ starring: jeonghan

💌 genre/wc: angst, fluff / 1.5k

💬 preview: jeonghan held your heart in the palm of his hands, his fingertips connected to the heartstrings that led to your chest.

tw/cw: fwb!jeonghan x reader, timeskips, abstract sex, messy love, mentions of grief and depression, growing old together

🪽fic rating: 18+

☁️ masterlist & a/n: based on the song black friday by tom odell, i've always loved the idea of finding the right person yet always having to wait for the right time. this is a part of my 500 followers celebration event -- our last instalment before february!

p.s thank you so much to @lovetaroandtaemin and @diamonddaze01 for beta reading ! my lovely wife tara also made the banner <33

Breathe in. 

It was the middle of the night but you were still awake, hovering by your phone as you waited, humming some nonsensical tune as you eyed your phone. 

Tonight was Black Friday, and Jeonghan might’ve been able to scrape by the afternoon, but you knew he wouldn’t survive the night. Not without you. 

The phone rang. Two sharp notes. Just like you expected it would. 

“Hello?” You raised the phone to your ear, listening carefully to the other end. Harsh pants and deep breaths reached you, as distant music echoed through the phone. 

“Y/N.” Jeonghan’s voice was scratchy and harmed, not at all like his usual angelic tone. “I-” 

“Send me your location.” You knew what he was here for. 

>

Breathe out. 

Jeonghan encroached on your territory like old companions would, chucking his shoes off in a lonely corner before enveloping you, arms closing around your waist as he buried himself close. And as much as you knew he did not belong to you, you couldn’t help but relax. It was neither your fault or his that the embrace always felt similarly shaped to home. 

“Y/N.” Your name fell from his lips in a breathless whisper. 

The skin around his eyes were colored the shade of red. 

“Hannie.” Pulling him into your living room, you gently pushed him down onto the couch, moving into the kitchen to make him a cup of tea. Green tea. A splash of sugar. No lemon. Just the way he preferred it to be. 

Silence was a precious commodity in your time with Jeonghan, as the two of you fed off each other's silences alone. Jeonghan would feel his mind slow, his tears fade, his lungs unruffle and breathe once again. You would feel waves of heartache and lingering pain. 

Jeonghan was that vice of yours, something unattainable and unjustified. Jeonghan came to you in moments of grief -- and you knew it wasn’t right to take advantage of that vulnerability. 

You told yourself again and again, maybe next time. Maybe next time you’d see each other in a better setting, one where you could approach him and tell him how you felt. 

The time never came. 

And so, you loved Jeonghan from afar, gentle hands tending to invisible wounds as your heart laid out on the table, bruised and fresh for the picking. 

>

Breathe in. 

Jeonghan worshiped you like he was trying to forget himself. Fervently, desperately, hips thrusting in time with your shared moans, his eyes trained on you like it was only the two of you in the world. Grief would be washed away with mind blowing pleasure and the first spark of love, if only momentarily. 

When all was finished, he’d collapse beside you, sweaty skin pressing against your back as he whispered his quiet thanks, the well meant praises he promised were only for your ears to hear. He’d run his slender fingers through your hair, basking in the light your happiness gave him.

But like many good things, you and Jeonghan were always momentary. 

>

Breathe out. 

Your breath hits the cold bitter air as you watch his back profile, overnight bag slung over his shoulder as he hailed down a cab. His smile is taunt and weak as he waves, the nostalgia of your face already sinking deep into his bones. 

He’ll miss you. Just never enough to call.

>

Breathe, again. 

By the time the next Black Friday rolls around, you’ve moved apartments. No longer being in the same city as Jeonghan irks you, the feeling is strange and unsettling. You worry about him more than you’d care to admit. How he’s doing, what life currently looks like for him. Jeonghan lives in your mind far more than someone who’s just a friend should. 

The phone rings. Once. Twice. While you’ve changed everything about your life ten times over since you’ve left highschool, your number is the only thing that stays constant. 

Your finger hovers over the green. You hesitate. You know who’s on the other end of the line. Your sleep paralysis demon. Your ghost. The boy who’s been haunting you all your life. 

“Jeonghan?” You speak into your phone. 

You pick up. You always do. 

“Y/N.” He breathes out. “I’m in your city.” A pause, and you hear the sound of partygoers behind him. “Can I come over?”

The cycle repeats. 

>

Breathe, for the last time. 

Jeonghan asks to fly you over. There’s a slight shift in the way he frames his words, a bit more bashful than you were used to him being. 

“Can you come over, baby? I’ll fly you to my city.” 

Jeonghan had never once crossed the line of calling you baby. 

But of course you had said yes. You always, fucking, did. 

“Of course.” You had replied, already looking at how many shifts you could cancel for the weekend. “I’d love to come see you.” 

>

Breathe, bitch. 

“I think I fell in love with you.” He admits, halfway through a bottle of red wine. “A little bit. Somewhere along the way of-” He gestures at the air between the two of you. “-this.” 

“What?” Your heart beats, so loud you swear he could hear it. 

“I’m in love with you.” A cheeky smile graces across his face and his eyes twinkle under the dim kitchen lights of his high rise apartment. The moon is full tonight. 

“You’re-” You choke on your words. “You’re in love with me? Since when?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just sort of, happened.” 

And although you’ve played out this moment in time a hundred times in your head, what you feel next surprises you. You don’t feel love, no. You feel red, hot, anger. 

“You’re in love with me?” The words come out loud, unrestrained and full of disbelief. “Oh, why? Because it’s now convenient for you?”

Jeonghan stares at you with his mouth parted. 

“I know you were grieving- but I don’t know- it didn’t hit you that maybe it was wrong to keep me on your every beck and call for these past ten years? Showing up whenever you need a woman’s comfort and touch to help you forget?” 

“You didn’t have to pick up.” 

A rippling laugh escapes you, along with a scoff. “I love you, Yoon Jeonghan. Of course I always picked up.” 

“You love me?” Because of course, that was the only thing he heard. 

You blink, taken aback by how soft his voice suddenly is. “I do.” It wasn’t hard to admit it anymore, not when it had been the one thing defining you for so long. 

Worlds collide when your lips touch, his chapped ones clinging onto every inch he could taste. It felt different -- entirely whole and innocent. Like playground lovers learning what intimacy felt like for the first time. 

“I wanted to wait before I could let myself love you.” Jeonghan tells you after, lying in bed as he once again, threads his slender fingers through your hair. “To pull myself into some semblance of a man, a man that deserved to love you. Who could.” 

You stared into his eyes, knowing he wasn’t finished talking. 

“Tell me.” You whispered. “Let me in your head.” 

But the grace period his grief had given him was gone. 

“I love you.” Is all he says, turning over to pull the sheets closer around him. “Remember that.” 

You would look back, and recall how it felt as if he was trying to remember it himself.

>

Breathe deep. 

It was only decades later did Jeonghan finish his thoughts, the same ones he had begun when the two of you were still bumbling adults, stumbling through life with your hands outstretched. 

“I was jealous.” He voices out one day, a seemingly unimportant wednesday evening. He sits on the rocking chair with his cup of tea, an old woolen blanket tucked over his lap. His reading glasses lie delicately on his nose as he looks at you. 

At first you don’t understand. “What?” Perhaps you hadn’t heard him correctly, your hearing had been worsening with age. 

“Back then,” Jeonghan continues. “When we were still in our twenties. I was jealous of how brightly you shined. You could walk into a room and light it up like a beacon.” He laughed, his body shaking with energy. “You woke me up better than any medicine could. I was this- dark ball of hatred and grief and uncertainty towards the world-”

Jeonghan had changed over the years since then. Marriage, kids, and growing old had changed him. Falling in love with you had changed him entirely. 

“You were my buoy.” He says definitively. “And I’m sorry that it took me nearly ten years to realize that I needed you. Loved you.” 

It felt like another lifetime. 

Reaching over from your own chair, you took his hand in yours -- his fingers no longer perfect but still just as slender. “That was eons ago, my love. And we have spent much more than ten years together.” 

Breathe.

[witherby]

ALREADY?? UH, PRAYING FOR YOU!!! YEAH YOU CAN DO THIS!! Let the voices win frfr. . .

Can't wait to read it... Mweheheh..

★🍋‍🟩

Mother Hen, A/B/O Edition

Or: the one where Hal reminds the Batfamily they are loved in little ways.

"Mornin, Alfred," Hal yawned, barely conscious as he shuffled into the dining room.

"Good morning, master Hal," Alfred greeted. He watched Hal slowly sink into a chair and placed his food in front of him. "Drink options this morning are fresh-squeezed orange juice, a fruit smoothie, or a glass of milk."

"Hmm..." Hal blinked heavily and gently grabbed Alfred's arm before the beta would withdraw from setting his plate down. He brought his wrist to his face and gingerly nosed it, breathing in the scent of jasmine tea with a tired smile. "Um...Juice s'fine...thanks a million..."

"Of...of course, sir." Alfred pulled his arm back when Hal let him go, disappearing into the kitchen with pink ears.

--

"Alright, got all my things. This weekend was fun, but I gotta head back to Blüdhaven. The precinct has been leaving me a concerning number of voicemails, so I can only imagine the circus I'm gonna find."

Dick shrugged his duffel bag over his shoulder and gave his brothers all a quick squeeze or noogie. Bruce gave him a hug, briefly encompassing him in dark chocolate, and told him to stay safe. Hal did the same, but gently nosed the gland at his throat, pushing packsafelove through his usual, airy scent.

"Go give 'em hell, kid," he said, drawing back. Dick pressed a hand over his neck, feeling a flush of warmth, and almost shyly bid goodbye to Hal before he left, clearly unused to such easy Omegan affection.

--

Jason awoke with a scream in the middle of the night, vision briefly overcome with green, green, green, and darted out of his room before the others could come in and crowd him. His scent left a trail of thick, bitter, omegan fear behind him, until he made his way into the library and tucked himself behind a bookshelf to calm himself down.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound of his own, ragged breathing. Everything felt like too much. His skin felt too tight. His body felt too heavy. His mind felt too busy. He needed it all to stop. He needed a grounding tool. He needed —

Jason sucked in another sharp gasp, and scented a calming, summer breeze. It was faint and unobtrusive, somewhere distant, but he latched onto it like a faint beacon of light amongst a raging storm. He chased that scent like a lifeline, until his skin stopped feeling tight and his body stopped feeling like lead and his mind finally started to slow and settle.

Then he crawled back out from the bookcase and approached Hal from where he was lounging in a chair across the library, an unobtrusive but clear position of support whenever he wanted it.

He didn't have to ask before Hal's arms opened up, wrapping tightly around Jason, and he scented his neck and cheek until the last of his tremors died off.

Safelovesafe, Hal pushed into his scent. Safelovesafe.

Jason rested his head on Hal's shoulder, trusting him to support his weight. Lovesafepack.

--

Tim hadn't managed to get out of the manor fast enough to avoid Hal snatching him up and nesting him during his pre-heat.

"This can't be helpful to you," he muttered, squirming from under the three layers of blankets Hal had burrito'd him into. "I'm a beta, remember? I can't smell any more interesting than a ream of paper."

"You're one of my pups. Shut up and deal with it," Hal said, throwing yet another blanket on top of Tim, before spooning his bundled body to his chest and nosing at the back of his neck so self-soothe. "You smell like coconut, by the way. And me, now, but your base scent is coconut."

"I don't own anything with coconut in it..." Tim mumbled. "Hey, I don't have to stay here, right? I'm gonna get heat stroke if the answer is yes."

Hal just kept nosing at the back of his neck. Tim tried to ignore how nice it felt and relented to his fate with a sigh.

--

Damian pushed his father's hand away when he went to feel his temperature and curled up further into his blankets. He already knew he was feverish; there was no need to touch him to confirm it.

"I think you're gearing up to present, buddy," Bruce told him. "I was thirteen when it happened to me, too, and your scent's been changing the past few days."

"Great. Is it gonna be this uncomfortable the entire time?" Damian groaned. "I'm hot. I'm cold. I'm hot again. I'm thirsty. Everything hurts. I think I'd rather fight off a hundred assassins in the League again."

"This should help," Hal said, knocking on the door frame to announce himself before walking in. He was holding a bundle of clothes, several articles plucked from everyone in the house, and started tucking them under Damian's blankets. "What do you think you're gonna be?"

"An alpha, obviously," Damian practically sneered, "like father. I have all the traits and qualities of a pack leader like him. What a stupid question."

Hal and Bruce exchanged a glance over Damian's shivering body, communicating wordlessly in the way only long-time lovers could. It was sickening and annoying.

"Spit it out," he hissed. He caught a whiff of cedar and followed it to Dick's hoodie, bringing it to his face and nuzzling into it. He was about to present so he could afford to do embarrassing things for a short time, like find comfort in the scents of his pack mates.

"Nothing, champ. Just hope you feel better quickly," Hal said, reaching down to ruffle his hair. "It shouldn't last more than a day."

"And if you need anything, someone's always gonna be outside the door keeping track of you," Bruce said, leaning down to nose against his temple gently. The comforting scent from his alpha helped abate some of the discomfort Damian was feeling, and he almost reluctantly nuzzled back before rolling over.

Two sets of footsteps made to walk out of the room, but Damian sniffed around his nest and frowned.

"Jordan," he called. Hal stopped and immediately returned to his bedside.

"Yeah?"

"...there's...nothing of yours is in here," Damian muttered, avoiding eye contact as he thrust his hand out expectantly. "Hand your shirt over immediately."

Hal laughed, but it wasn't mean. He obediently tugged off the t-shirt he was wearing and handed it over, and Damian added it to his collection before settling back down.

"You may go," the boy muttered. Hal hummed and grabbed his wrist again, nosing against it, and Damian didn't put up any resistance despite the flush staining his cheeks. "I'm not a babe in need of reassurance! Leave me!"

"Sure thing, kid. I'm taking the first shift, so holler if you need anything," Hal said.

Damian waited until he left the room before bringing his wrist to his neck and rubbing the Lantern's scent against his glands. It smelled like lovepacklove.

Maybe being an Omega wouldn't be so bad.

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Small Talk with a Dead Man

After a dramatic realization during Christmas break, Y/N has been peacefully trying to live her life without the influence of the Batfamily. One night after classes, she is visited by an old friend...

*Fluff*

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern Small Talk with a Dead Man

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I shouldn't have been surprised. TV broadcasts. Google Alerts. The radio guy who complained about Gotham's newest Crime lord during my morning commute. A few local news stations dared to ask, "Is Red Hood more dangerous than the Black Mask?"

Despite all those warning signs, my heart stops when I see him again. A flash of lightning illuminates the man across from me. The signature Red Helmet drips rainwater on my ratty tan carpet. The towering man is far from the mischievous teenager I once knew. Judging by the watercolors across his knuckles, he must have driven from patrol.

From the corner of my bedroom, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. Dick's grinning face covers the screen. I hurriedly decline the call. Tim's face makes an appearance. The screen goes black. I drag my gaze back to the dead.

"Hatchling?" Jason observes motioning to Tim's contact name, "What's Damien's? Infant?"

I pause to think about it. What did I make Damien's?

"Sassy pants... with several angry emojis." I elaborate showing him the contact.

"Ahh... fitting for a child raised by assassins."

The room feels too small. Stuffy even. After years of dreaming of what I'd want to say to him, I blank. The helmet drops to the floor with a thud. His voice breaks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

That breaks me out of my stupor. Crossing the room, I shush him.

"Take this jacket off before you track any more water in. My landlord is terrified of mold."

Reluctantly, he lets me peel the wet leather away from his goosebumped riddled skin. The hulking man slumps towards my touch. In the darkness, I can almost forget how long it has been.

How many nights did we do this? Bruce starting a fight. Jason sneaking in through my childhood window with a devilish grin.

"I figured I've already disappointed one father figure. Why not disappoint them both?"

The image of his charred corpse flashes in my mind. Some memories don't age well.

A well-timed thunderclap shakes me back to the present. My Jason had blue eyes.

"Go sit in the living room," I command throwing a towel in his direction, "Do you want tea?"

"Yes please." He agrees following my heels, "Do you have-"

"The usual? " I interrupt with a sly backward glance, "Who do you think I am?"

I almost blush at the look he gives me. Good God. My back turns to face him while I turn the kettle on.

Which mug do you give a dead man?

I correct myself.

Which mug do you give a crime lord?

I look past the cluster of random holiday cups to my shining star. A brand new Superman mug complete with a washable cape napkin. Water. Green Tea and chamomile bags. A little bit of honey.

While I set everything up, Jason studies the collage of photos on my wall. Some from Gotham. A mix from school. His eyes fall upon a selfie of Dick, Alfred, Barbara, and I. Encrested on the frame, it reads, "Jason Todd Memorial 2022". My throat gets tight. It seems so meaningless now. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I analyze the man. The new uniform is much more outwardly utilitarian than his Robin costume. No more shorts. The guns are new. He had set a few in a cluster on the coffee table. Jason takes a postcard from the collage in his hands.

"George Clooney?" He muses turning over the card, "Dick always had a flair for the dramatics."

"It runs in the family," I retort setting down his mug on the table.

As I draw near, he smiles at the choice of mug.

"I didn't realize that you picked sides."

"Alfred sent it to me as a peace offering," I shrug.

I motion to the brown patched-up couch. Jason eagerly reclines. His body stiffens at the strange lumps towards the center.

"Courtesy of Ma Kent," I joke, "I'm convinced she lined it with kryptonite, so Clark wouldn't jump on it."

Rubbing his sore shoulders, Jason grimaces sitting up.

"Well, I'm sure this is the only couch that could cause the Man of Steel back pain."

Sitting next to the sweaty young man, I sip on my own tea. The bitterness of the green tea grounds me to the present.

"Do you want to talk about what happened in Gotham tonight?" I question glancing at the freshly bandaged cuts on his arms.

He shakes his head grimacing at the memory. New City. New topics.

Grabbing the remote, I start, "What are you feeling tonight? I've been aching to rewatch "You're Next" for a while."

He eyes me with playful suspicion. Jason folds his arms behind his head.

"What? I've always found scary movies comforting after a long day."

"Like the way you find Ma Kent's Couch to be comfortable?" He teases fidgeting with the coarse fabric of the homemade pillow.

The random stains make him raise an eyebrow. Thunder shakes my apartment.

"It's an acquired taste." I reply pulling the pillow flush against my chest, "Besides, horror is the only genre where your anxiety is always right, but the horror never stays for too long. It’s nice to see the Protagonists survive to the end of their story."

For a moment, he looks like my Jason again. The slight bruising around his left eye causes him to squint ever so slightly, but he flashes me an amused smirk. His fixed gaze never leaves my face. I start to sweat. What if he thinks of me differently? Five years is a long time. We've both changed.

"You watch too many movies." He remarks offering me half of the blanket.

I snuggle close allowing myself to enjoy this moment. A flash of lightning illuminates the small TV screen.

"That is probably true." I reply lying my head on his shoulder.

The exhaustion of the day compounds until the opening credits fade into black.

Taglist: @nosyrobin,@jjsmeowthie.@epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin,@rory-cakes,@luna-zendra-star,@b4tm4nn,@anuttellaa,@chibiduck

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[We went on shopping (it didn’t go well)] - TF141*F!Reader

not a chapter actually just a rambling, it's kinda messy and not my style imo, pls feel free to skip this etc. might rewrite this shit when I have time since I’m busy with my job these days and I just accidentally sliced my thumb open making it difficult to type, hence not much to provide sorry :( and the weird stranger incident in the latter part did happen irl damn it’s creepy af, but I was the one telling them to fuck off tho (they harassing my cute friend RAGE)

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After your car graduates from its car life in about a week, congratulations, the poor shelf accompanies you since your college life is finally undone, fragments spreading across the floor making you shout Mama and mourn for its graduation.

You don’t have a car right now, so when Gaz offers to drive you to buy a new shelf, you agree to his suggestion without a second thought. Yet when the day comes and you open the car door, only to be greeted by the wide smile of Soap and Gaz, you almost slam the door close in reflex.

“Okay, but why do all of you come together? this isn’t an elementary school field trip!” You gawk at them when you squeeze in the car.

“Sounds fun, how can ye not tell us?” 

“Gaz I thought you could seal your lips!”

“Sorry love, Ghost exchanged it with some goodies.”

Oh yeah, Ghost is sitting in the driver’s seat.

Wait, he’s sitting in the driver's seat?

“Goddamnit—“ Your scream dies out on your tongue when said man puts his foot down. 

Ghost does a good job at providing you the same experience as riding a rollercoaster, glad that you didn’t throw up in the car and arrived at the warehouse without dying. If he's your Uber driver, you will give him five stars and block the hell out of him. 

You hop out of the car and walk to the door. As the automatic door parts after sensing your presence, you feel much better when the cold air of the store. Nice a.c. is one of the important features of a nice store, and you already built a fondness for the warehouse with how refreshing the chilly air is inside.

The first area welcoming you is food. Not bad, 6 out of 10 if it needs to be precise. Gaz pushes the cart and follows you as you saunter to the aisle with cereals.

“Oh, they have my favorite brand.” You murmur to him as your eyes travel across the price tag.

Wait, you must still be dizzy because no way it’s 30% cheaper than the same one you just bought from the supermarket.

“Kyle, it says it’s 3 pounds, right?!” pointing at the tag, your voice raises a whole eight-tone with excitement.

“Yes?”

“Good.”

5 boxes of cereal are added to the cart. 

Actually, 9.9 out of 10 for this place, you fix the evaluation as you watch Gaz putting some of those ten bags of chocolate Ghost and Soap dump into the cart back on the shelf, and as a little revenge to Gaz for letting the other two men join the trip without you knowing, you choose to turn a blind eye when you spot Ghost sneaking all of them back in the cart.

Not forgetting the primary goal for today, you go straight to the furniture area after letting Soap throw five packs of gummy bears in the cart and convincing Ghost not to get a cup of tea from the random tea shop. You’ll make a much better one for him when you get home — you coo when he stares at you with unhappy eyes not covered by the mask, glad that he seems to accept the idea, so he huffs and lets you drag him and Soap out of the food area.

“You should buy this.” 

“Ghost I don’t need a green shelf in my shop thank you.”

“Then ye should buy this bonnie!”

“That’s not even a goddamn shelf, Soap.”

“How about this?” 

Your eyes brighten up when Gaz shows you a wooden shelf, it’s stripped-back, with not many decorations, but it surely will fit wonderfully into your store with its aesthetic vibes and high functionality, thus you pick up your phone to type down the product number immediately.

“Oh my, Kyle, you’re the best.”

and you’re too busy typing the numbers down that you don’t notice him shooting the others a taunt of victory.

The last area before the cashier’s counter sets a bookshop. You don’t plan on buying books, but you indeed need to go to the bathroom, so you dismiss yourself and tell them to look around before you’re done.

Why are the bathrooms always hidden in a bloody long hallway? What if someone can’t hold back during their way? Your footsteps echo through the corridor as your mind starts hitting you with a fresh and unnecessary question, glad that you aren’t that urgent though, so you’re able to get to the destination without wetting your pants.

Washing your hands, you step back to the hallway again, but you yelp in surprise when you bump into someone.

“Sorry!” You nod at the man and start heading back to the bookstore.

but it’s weird, the man you just bump into walks so close to you, that you suddenly realize he’s just a step behind you.

Hey, don’t panic, might just coincidence, you try to tell yourself as you make another step.

“Hey, lovely.” Okay, it’s not a coincidence, fucking hell. You curse when his hand touches your shoulder and stops you.

“Sorry for bumping into you, Sir. Anything that I can help?”

“No, I’m waiting for you to separate from the blokes for a while can’t ask for your phone number when they surround you like dogs.”

“I don’t give strangers my number, sorry.” You try to leave, but the man’s hand grabs your shoulder forcefully preventing you from moving.

“Hey, give us a chance yeah? I’m sure we will have some nice time together.”

“I don’t fucking know you!”

Prying off his hand, you turn and start walking fast, almost running when you hear the stranger’s footsteps coming towards you.

Fuck fuck fuck, you haven’t run with such desperation in years, last time must be high school.

“Who the fok are ye arsehole?”

The tears prickling in your eyes when you hear Soap’s voice ringing in your ears before you feel a pair of warm hands drag you behind him.

“Ghost and Soap will deal with him, let’s go.”

Adrenaline pumping through your body finally subsides when Soap and Ghost reappear from the hallway, you don’t want to know what happened to the stranger, maybe hope they’re still alive and in one piece so you won’t involve yourself in another chaos, 

“I think it’s time to go home, Kyle. Is it okay?”

“Of course, wanna grab some food before we leave?”

“I guess Ghost already bought sufficient chocolate for us.”

A burst of laughter catches your attention whilst Gaz looking at the cart with bags of chocolate stuffing under your cereals with disbelief, and a smile crawls back to your lips as you look at Ghost slamming his forehead against a lower door frame and Soap laughing over him.

They aren’t that bad, maybe, or they reserve the remnants of tenderness for you, you’re not sure whether is correct, but at least they have your back when you need them, and that’s enough for you to stop exploring the answer for now.

“Oh.” A book gets knocked off when you shift to stand up. Turning around to pick it up, you have a good look at the shelf behind your seat.

Your eyes dart from ‘Today’s recommendation’ to the book within your grasp.

‘Surrounded by idiots — by Thomas.’

You will rate this recommendation 10 out of 10 for sure.

After insisting on paying yourself and shooing the men off, you take out your card and place it on the scanner.

‘Insufficient balance :( please try again’

You frown when the machine shoves you a nuh-uh, and you open the bank app to check your balance.

So you overspent 10 pounds huh? What a shame to your title for being a successfully financially broken adult. Which link loses and makes you make a wrong shopping decision? 

you scan the list of items with sharp vision until you land your eyes on a product.

Surrounded by idiots - £ 10.61

Ah.

a/n: thx for reading :D sorry it's messy and unlike my previous writings :( hope I can have time to write again btw Price went on business trip so he's missing everything

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww @ghostysloot @hxnneydew @cutiecusp @beigechristmastree @rejectedbytheempty @lupikekee @hotvinimon @whitetiger846

[p0orbaby]

I have a possible blurb request for mary earps please??

r still lives in england and mary’s over with psg. mary comes back from paris for international duty and finally gets to see r again.

maybe mary surprises r by coming back a day early and comes home to see r in mary’s psg shirt

-

The flat is too quiet, but you’ve learned to live with that. Mary’s voice used to echo through the place—she’s not exactly subtle when she’s home—but with her in Paris, it’s been quieter. Not lonely, exactly. Just… quieter.

Now, the only noise comes from the hum of the kettle and the faint tinny sound of some reality TV rerun you’ve half-watched four times already. You’re standing in the kitchen, her oversized PSG shirt hanging off you, half-distracted as you wait for the water to boil. It’s the away kit—black and gold—soft from too many washes. She left it behind, and you’ve convinced yourself she wouldn’t mind.

The kettle clicks off. You pour the water over a tea bag, take a sip too soon, and immediately regret your life choices.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’ve survived this long-distance thing so far, even if it’s been weeks since you’ve had so much as a proper hug. Mary texts, she calls, she sends voice notes when she’s bored on team buses, but it’s not the same. You keep busy—work, friends, this new phase of your life where you apparently cosplay as a PSG superfan when no one’s looking.

Then there’s a sound. A faint jingle of keys.

You freeze.

No one else has keys.

“Don’t freak out,” comes a voice from the door. Familiar. Dry. A little smug.

Your tea sloshes onto the counter as you whip around, heart hammering.

Mary’s standing there, suitcase at her feet, coat hanging off one shoulder like she’s just walked out of a bloody rom-com. Except this is your kitchen, and rom-com Mary probably wouldn’t be grinning so much at the sight of you in her shirt.

“You’re back,” you say, because your brain is apparently still catching up.

“Early,” she clarifies, stepping inside. She looks far too pleased with herself, green eyes glittering as she takes you in. “Nice shirt, by the way”

You look down like you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “Oh, this old thing? Found it lying around”

“Hmm. Looks better on you, honestly.” She sets her suitcase aside and crosses the room in two strides, pulling you into her arms before you can think of a reply.

The hug is as good as you remembered. Maybe better. Her warmth seeps into you, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her—something clean, fresh, with an undertone of cheap hotel shampoo.

“God, I missed you,” she mutters against your hair.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back early”

“Yeah, well.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist. “I thought a surprise might be fun. Looks like I was right”

You laugh softly, looping your arms around her neck. “You were right. For a change”

She tilts her head, grinning. “This time? How often am I wrong?”

You don’t answer, just kiss her instead. It’s been too long, and judging by the way she immediately tightens her grip on you, she feels the same.

When you finally pull away, you’re both a little breathless.

“So,” she says, voice lighter now, “are you going to keep that shirt on, or do I get my wardrobe back?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m giving it back?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her grin turning cheeky as she leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your heart stutter. “I might have a few ideas to convince you”

Your tea goes cold on the counter, but you don’t really care.

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact—

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After the night Axel helped you, it’s evident he regrets his harsh words and is ready to apologize, eager to mend what was broken between you. However, someone has stepped forward, admitting their jealousy and confessing they can’t bear to see the bond between you and Axel rekindling.

Warnings ; mention of alcohol & alcohol usage

Pt. 4

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

‘Oh my goodness, yes!’ Sam cried out, bursting into our room with uncontainable energy. Startled by the sudden commotion, I stood up quickly, my gaze darting around the space as golden sunlight poured through the window, illuminating everything in its path and landing squarely on my face.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, my fingers absentmindedly combing through my tousled hair, still heavy with the haze of sleep.

‘They’ve rescheduled the semi-finals—by two whole days!’ she exclaimed, gripping my shoulders with unrestrained enthusiasm. Her excitement was palpable as she began to shake me, almost as though trying to transfer her joy through sheer force.

A laugh escaped me, light and unguarded. I felt as if I had awakened from the most peaceful, restorative rest I could remember, and her jubilant announcement only elevated the sense of ease and delight lingering in the air.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ I asked, sitting upright in bed, my fingers lightly brushing over the edge of the blanket as I smoothed it out. My mind wandered to my wardrobe, already strategizing the perfect outfit for the day. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam at her vanity, meticulously applying her makeup. Her movements were quick but precise, the kind of efficiency that came with years of practice.

‘Breakfast, beach, bonfire, and then sleep,’ she replied, clapping her hands together in satisfaction as she stepped out of the bathroom, her beach outfit perfectly chosen and accessorized. It suited her effortlessly confident demeanor. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll explore Barcelona. Properly this time.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ I said, standing and stretching with a calm, deliberate movement. I wandered to the window, briefly letting the sunlight warm my face, before turning my attention back to my bedside table, tidying the few things that were out of place.

A knock interrupted the moment, and I turned my head toward the door. Sam shot me a glance, with a quick nod, she strode to the door.

I couldn’t hear the conversation clearly, but the tone was unmistakable—coolly polite, with an undertone of tension. When Sam returned, Tory and Kwon followed closely behind her, their presence instantly changing the energy in the room.

‘Tory!’ I greeted warmly, my voice genuine as I crossed the room to hug her. Though our dynamic had been competitive lately, I still couldn’t help but feel a soft spot for her charm.

‘Whoa, hey, Y/n,’ Tory said with a light laugh, hugging me back tightly before stepping away. Her ever-sunny demeanor masked the sharpness in her eyes, which flicked around the room as if cataloging every detail.

I turned to Kwon next, his tall figure leaning casually against the doorframe as though he owned the space. His expression was as smug as ever, and in his hand, he held a small paper bag, which he tossed onto the nearby table with a calculated nonchalance.

‘For you,’ he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. ‘You went a little overboard last night. Figured you’d need this to recover. Electrolytes, aspirin, green tea. You’re welcome.’

I arched a brow, stepping forward to inspect the bag. ‘Thoughtful of you,’ I replied, my tone measured and neutral, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘Though I’m perfectly fine this morning, thank you.’

He let out a quiet scoff, his smirk widening. ‘Right. Because chugging cocktails like they’re water doesn’t have consequences. Try to pace yourself today, or are you planning to make a habit of needing my help?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Kwon,’ Sam cut in, her voice sharp as she moved to my side. Her gaze was icy as it flicked between the two of them. ‘We’re perfectly capable of managing our day without your… oversight.’

I could see Tory nudge Kwon lightly with her elbow, clearly trying to break the tension. He merely rolled his eyes, the picture of indifference.

‘Don’t mind him, Y/n. He’s just trying to be helpful… in his own special way,’ she said with a grin, her voice carrying that easy charm she always relied on to smooth things over.

‘I’m glad we caught you before you headed out,’ Tory added cheerfully, brushing her hair over one shoulder as she surveyed the room.

I offered a calm smile, effortlessly dismissing Kwon’s air of arrogance. ‘It’s always a pleasure to see you both,’ I replied smoothly, maintaining my composure.

My gaze shifted to the clock on the wall before I turned back to them. ‘Have you eaten yet? If not, you should join us for breakfast. We’re heading out soon.’ I reached for my bag and began pulling out my neatly folded clothes, carefully laying them on the chair beside me.

Tory’s face lit up as she nodded enthusiastically. ‘Breakfast sounds perfect!’ she said, her energy contagious as always.

Kwon, on the other hand, gave a dismissive shrug, his posture still lazy and unbothered as he leaned against the doorframe. ‘Sure, why not?’ he muttered, though his tone made it sound like he was doing us a favor by agreeing.

I raised my eyebrows slightly at his nonchalance but didn’t comment. Instead, I gestured toward my clothes with a small smile. ‘Give me ten minutes to change, and we can head out.’

Tory sat down on the edge of my bed, making herself comfortable as she kicked her legs lightly. ‘Take your time, Y/n. We’re in no rush,’ she said, her tone warm and inviting.

Kwon, still stationed at the doorframe, crossed his arms and watched the room with that same unreadable expression. His eyes lingered on my methodical movements as I gathered my things, but his expression betrayed nothing beyond his usual air of aloofness. I ignored him, focused on maintaining the order and ease I carried through my morning.

As I stepped toward the bathroom, I glanced over my shoulder at Tory. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be ready soon.’

‘Always do,’ she replied with a wink, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly before disappearing behind the door to change.

—

After stepping out of the shower, the faint sound of Tory and Sam talking drifted through the door. Their voices were surprisingly calm, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. The tension between them had been far from positive for a while now—ever since Tory joined Cobra Kai. But seeing them exchange words without hostility gave me a glimmer of hope.

I wrapped a towel around myself, wiping the steam from the mirror as I thought about Tory. Despite everything, I understood her choices. Her life hadn’t been easy, and joining Cobra Kai must have felt like her only option at the time. Still, it had put a rift between her and the rest of us.

I was happy to see Sam, in her own way, making an effort to bridge the gap. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. Sam had been hurt too, in ways that she didn’t often talk about, and trusting Tory again wasn’t something that could happen overnight. But even this small conversation felt like progress.

After Tory left our dojo, I had tried to reach out to her more times than I could count. Texts, calls, even dropping by her place—most went unanswered. For days, it had felt like she’d shut me out completely. I told myself it was just her way of coping, but it didn’t make the silence sting any less.

Hearing her voice now, though, talking with Sam instead of arguing, gave me hope. Maybe this trip was a chance for all of us to start over—not perfectly, not easily, but step by step. I smiled to myself as I slipped into my clothes, feeling a flicker of optimism.

By the time I opened the door and stepped back into the room, the air felt lighter. Tory was perched on the edge of my bed, gesturing animatedly as she spoke. Sam, leaning casually against the window, listened with a look of cautious interest. The sight made me pause for a moment, appreciating the delicate balance we were all trying to maintain. Maybe today would surprise us all.

I let Tory and Sam continue their conversation, their voices blending into the background as I shifted my attention toward Kwon. He stood near the doorframe, his posture as casual and self-assured as ever, his arms loosely crossed. As I moved about the room, gathering a few essentials into my bag, I decided to make an effort at small talk, even if Kwon’s usual attitude made it a challenge.

Leaning lightly against the wall beside him, I turned my head and smiled politely. ‘So, Kwon, are you excited for the semi-finals?’ I asked, keeping my tone warm and conversational.

His eyes flicked toward me, the familiar glint of arrogance unmistakable as he smirked faintly. He leaned slightly closer, as if to make his next words more pointed. ‘Excited?’ he echoed, his voice dripping with condescension. ‘More like prepared. Excitement’s for people who aren’t confident in their chances.’

I raised an eyebrow at his response but kept my expression composed, refusing to let his bravado faze me. ‘Well, confidence is a good thing,’ I said smoothly, tilting my head slightly. ‘But even the most prepared fighters can use a little excitement to keep them sharp. Don’t you think?’

He gave a quiet scoff, his gaze briefly flicking to Sam and Tory before returning to me. ‘Maybe for some. But I don’t rely on adrenaline to win.’

I smiled faintly at his predictable response, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. ‘Good to know,’ I said lightly. ‘Though I’d say a balance of both doesn’t hurt. Keeps things… interesting.’

Kwon’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. ‘Interesting, huh? You seem awfully calm for someone who’s about to face some serious competition.’

I straightened up and met his gaze, my expression unshaken. ‘Calm doesn’t mean unprepared,’ I replied with an even tone. ‘It just means I trust in the work I’ve put in. There’s no need to overcompensate.’

The faintest flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual air of superiority. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said with a shrug, his voice low.

I simply nodded, a serene smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I stepped away to give him space. As I moved toward Sam and Tory, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Kwon’s arrogance might be his armor, but I wasn’t about to let it pierce through my calm.

After joining Sam and Tory, I exchanged a few pleasantries before we all left the room together. The morning sunlight streamed through the hallway as we walked, chatting about our plans for the day. It was decided that after breakfast, we’d split up to enjoy the day in our own ways and regroup at the bonfire that evening. Apparently, one of the teams eliminated from the Sekai Taikai had decided to host a massive gathering on the beach—a gesture to let loose and connect after all the intensity of the competition.

At breakfast, we found a table near the window. I slid into the chair closest to the sunlight, with Sam taking the seat next to me. Across the table, Kwon sat directly opposite me, while Tory casually took the spot across from Sam. It was a comfortable arrangement, though Kwon’s piercing, ever-analyzing gaze was hard to ignore.

I pulled out my phone, letting the easy banter around me fade into the background as I scrolled through my notifications. Nothing unusual caught my eye at first—just the usual updates and a few texts—until a new one popped up, stopping me mid-scroll. It was from Axel.

I tapped on it hesitantly, the memory of last night already creeping back into my mind. The message was simple but sent a wave of unease and something unspoken through me: Meet me after breakfast?

I stared at the words, my thoughts racing. The events of the previous night rushed back with startling clarity—the way Axel had put me to bed after my near-embarrassing state, the softness of his voice, the warmth of his touch as he made sure I was comfortable. My cheeks grew hot at the thought, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken.

Glancing around the room, I scanned for him, unsure of whether to respond right away. It didn’t take long to spot him—sitting a few tables away, hunched slightly as he poked at his food. His expression was unreadable, his focus firmly fixed on the table in front of him. Next to him, Zara appeared to be in the middle of a rant, her voice just loud enough to carry snippets of complaint. She waved her phone in his face, rolling her eyes dramatically, but he didn’t seem to care.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity as my gaze lingered on him. For a moment, I wondered if he even remembered everything from last night. Did it mean anything to him? Or was it just a matter of responsibility, making sure a opponent didn’t pass out on the spot?

The sudden snap of fingers jolted me out of my thoughts. My eyes darted up, meeting Kwon’s expectant, mildly annoyed expression.

‘You awake over there, or did your phone just suck your soul out?’ he asked dryly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that bordered on condescending.

I blinked, tucking my phone away quickly to hide the message. ‘Sorry,’ I replied smoothly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear

His smirk was as insufferable as ever, one eyebrow raised in mock concern. ‘Are you going to join us, or are you plotting your next move over there?’

My posture straightened, offering him a calm smile despite his condescending tone. ‘Just catching up on a few things,’ I replied evenly.

‘Must be important,’ he quipped, loosens up in his chair

‘I like to stay prepared,’ I said, keeping my voice light.

His smirk deepened, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I turned my attention back to Sam and Tory, who were now discussing the best way to navigate the city.

But as I reached for my cup of tea, my thoughts drifted back to Axel. He had already made it clear that this competition wasn’t just about skill for him—it was personal. And whether I wanted it or not, we were locked in a rivalry that neither of us could walk away from.

The question now was whether meeting him after breakfast was worth the risk.

—

After breakfast, Kwon and I were walking behind Sam and Tory as we left the cafeteria, still laughing about Kwon’s ridiculous plans for what he would do if he won Sekai Taikai. His ideas were completely over the top, imagining himself hosting grand celebrations and making impossible demands. I couldn’t help but laugh along, even though part of me knew he was just being his usual, confident self.

But then, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and there he was—Axel. A mixture of stress and a strange happiness washed over me at the sight of him. I couldn’t help but feel both uneasy and relieved. I wasn’t sure if it was the nervousness from our rivalry or just his presence, but something about him always left me feeling conflicted.

I sighed softly, forcing a smile, and waved at Kwon and Tory, signaling I’d be stepping aside for a moment. Kwon, not looking thrilled at the interruption, offered me a small, almost reluctant smile in return before turning his attention back to Tory.

Sam, sensing the tension, had already made an exit. ‘I’ll give you two some time,’ she said casually, heading for a nearby convenience store to grab snacks for the beach. It was almost as if she knew I’d need some space to handle Axel, though I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever conversation was about to unfold between us.

With Sam and Tory gone, it was just me and Axel now, and I couldn’t deny the mix of emotions bubbling up inside me.

Axel stood there in silence for a moment, his gaze fixed on me, and I could feel the familiar tension hanging in the air. Though on the outside I tried to appear calm, inside I was anything but. My heart raced, and my thoughts were a whirlwind, but I kept my posture relaxed, my expression composed.

‘So… what’s up?’ I asked, offering a soft smile, hoping to sound as casual as possible. I folded my arms gently, but there was a nervous flutter inside me that I couldn’t quite shake.

Axel raised an eyebrow, taking his time before responding. He looked around briefly, almost like he was deciding whether or not to speak at all. When he finally did, his voice was steady, though there was an edge to it. ‘We need to talk.’

His words hit me with a jolt, and despite the calm tone, I felt a knot form in my stomach. It wasn’t the friendliest invitation, but it wasn’t exactly a confrontation either. With Axel, it always felt like there was something unsaid lingering between us, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking now.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay composed. ‘About what?’ I asked, my voice as steady as I could manage.

Axel exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing for a moment before softening slightly. ‘About what happened yesterday.’

The mention of yesterday made my pulse quicken, but I forced myself to remain outwardly calm. The memory of what had transpired was still fresh—unclear and confusing—and I had hoped we could just move past it without bringing it up. But now that he’d said something, I realized there was no easy way around it.

‘I’m not sure there’s much to say,’ I replied softly, trying to keep my tone light yet truthful. ‘I remember how you helped me get home safely, and I’m grateful for that. But the words you said a few days ago still sting. You said I’m your opponent, and that there’s nothing between us.’ As soon as the words left my mouth, I instantly regretted them.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression growing more intense. I knew that was probably not the answer he wanted to hear, but I wasn’t about to add fuel to a fire that didn’t need to burn.

‘It’s not that simple,’ Axel said, his tone firm, but there was something in his eyes that made it hard to ignore. He took a step closer, his presence unavoidable, and I could feel the tension between us rise. ‘You can’t just act like the last few days didn’t mean anything,’ he said, his voice carrying an edge of frustration.

I took a moment to collect myself. Though inside, my mind was racing, I remained still on the outside, careful not to let him see how affected I was. I didn’t want to make this more complicated than it had to be.

‘I’m not pretending anything,’ I said softly, meeting his gaze with calm clarity. ‘I just don’t think we need to make a bigger deal out of it. We’re rivals, Axel. It’s complicated enough as it is.’

Axel studied me for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. He seemed to be searching for something, trying to figure out if I was hiding something or if I truly meant what I was saying. But no matter how hard he looked, I didn’t let him see the storm brewing inside me.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unsaid words. Then, Axel spoke again, his voice quieter this time, but still resolute.

‘I think we both know this isn’t just about being rivals.’ His words hung in the air, and despite my best efforts to remain composed, a part of me felt exposed.

Axel stood in front of me, his expression conflicted as the tension between us hung heavy in the air. His gaze flickered between my eyes and the ground, as if searching for the right words. The soft sounds of the world around us seemed distant, as though it was just the two of us in that moment, suspended in time.

He exhaled, his shoulders dropping as if he’d finally come to a realization. ‘Y/n,’ he began, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than I’d ever heard it before. ‘I regret what I said. I… I didn’t mean it.’

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. My heart raced, a mix of confusion and hope swirling inside me. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, not sure if I was ready for the answer.

Axel took a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a level of sincerity I hadn’t seen from him before. ‘I said there was nothing between us. But that was a lie. I pushed you away, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t care.’ His hand gently brushed against my arm, the contact sending a shock of warmth through me. ‘I care, Y/n. More than I should.’

The words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, neither of us moved. I was frozen, unsure of what to say or do, my emotions swirling in a chaotic dance. But his honesty left no room for doubt. I saw it in his eyes—regret, longing, something that was far beyond rivalry.

Before I could respond, Axel took another step forward, closing the distance between us. His hand reached up, cupping my face gently, as if afraid I might pull away. I didn’t. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him, my heart pounding.

‘I was scared,’ he admitted, his voice low and raw. ‘Scared of what it meant, scared of how it might change everything. But I can’t deny it anymore.’

I could feel the tension in the air shifting, the walls we’d both built around ourselves crumbling with every word. My chest tightened as his face drew closer, the heat from his body mingling with mine. Then, before I could think, Axel leaned in, his lips brushing against mine with a softness that took my breath away.

The kiss was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I found myself melting into the kiss, my hands instinctively reaching up to thread through his hair as I deepened it. Axel’s arms encircled me, pulling me closer, and the world outside us disappeared completely.

In that moment, there was no rivalry, no past mistakes. There was only the warmth of his touch and the truth that had finally been spoken between us. And as we pulled away, I knew things between us would never be the same again.

Axel’s voice was a soft murmur as he spoke against my lips. ‘I’m sorry for pushing you away, Y/n. I should have never said that.’

I smiled, my heart still racing but my mind at ease. ‘It’s okay, Axel. We’re here now.’

Axel gave me a tight smile, his eyes softening, but there was still an unreadable edge to his expression. ‘I guess… I’ll see you later,’ he said quietly, his voice betraying a trace of uncertainty.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, unsure of how to respond. As Axel turned and walked away, my thoughts swirled—conflicted, confused, but somehow clearer. It was as though a door had cracked open, and I wasn’t sure what was on the other side. I stood there for a moment longer, watching him disappear into the distance, before I took a deep breath and turned toward the hotel’s main entrance.

The lobby felt quieter than usual as I walked through it, the weight of the conversation still lingering in my chest. I could hear the soft hum of distant voices, but they didn’t register, my mind too focused on what had just happened. I made my way to the exit, pushing the heavy door open.

As soon as I stepped outside, the warm air hit me, and I saw Sam waiting by the railing outside the hotel. She was casually leaning against it, a small bag of snacks in her hands, but it was the way she looked at me that told me she had already noticed something wasn’t quite right. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying me, and I felt a twinge of guilt. She could tell something had happened, even if I hadn’t said a word yet.

‘Everything okay?’ Sam asked, her tone light but with a hint of concern.

I offered a small smile, still feeling the warmth of Axel’s words lingering in my chest. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. Let’s just go to the beach,’ I said, not quite ready to dive into the details yet.

We walked side by side as we made our way toward the beach, the sounds of the bustling city fading into the background. The salty air filled my lungs as I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was hard to ignore the rush of emotions. Sam didn’t push me to explain right away, though I could tell she was waiting for me to speak.

As we neared the shore, the waves crashing softly in the distance, I finally spoke, my voice low. ‘I… talked to Axel,’ I started, unsure of how to put it all into words. ‘We cleared the air. Kind of.’

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. ‘Cleared the air? What does that mean exactly?’

I sighed, my fingers brushing through my hair as I looked out at the ocean. ‘He admitted he was wrong—about what he said a few days ago, how he acted. He regrets saying that there was nothing between us, that I’m just his opponent. It was… a lot, Sam. But I don’t know if I can believe everything he said yet. It’s confusing.’

Sam nodded, her expression softening as she gave me a sympathetic look. ‘That sounds like a lot to process. But, hey, at least he owned up to it, right? I guess it’s a step in the right direction.’

I nodded slowly, still unsure of what all of it meant. ‘Yeah, I guess. But I’m not sure what to do with it. I’m still trying to figure out where we stand—if things are even going to change between us at all.’

We reached the edge of the beach, the cool sand beneath our feet grounding me, though my thoughts were anything but calm. Sam walked beside me, silent for a moment, before she spoke again, her voice quiet but knowing.

‘You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, Y/n. Just take it one step at a time. And if Axel really means what he said, he’ll show it. Words are one thing, but actions speak louder.’

I looked over at Sam, her words offering a small sense of comfort. She was right, of course. I didn’t need to have all the answers right now. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could handle it. With the ocean in front of us and the warmth of the sun on our backs, I took a deep breath and let the moment wash over me. Whatever came next, I would face it head-on.

With a soft smile, I turned to Sam. ‘Thanks. Let’s just enjoy the day, yeah?’

We continued walking, the soft sand beneath our feet as we searched for a spot to leave our things. After a few moments, we found a quiet area near the shore, away from the crowds, where we could set our bags down. Sam quickly spread out a towel while I placed the snacks beside us.

Once our things were settled, we turned toward the water, the cool waves lapping at the shoreline. The weight of the conversation with Axel seemed to drift away with each step we took toward the sea. As we waded into the water, the salty breeze lifted my spirits, and the sound of the waves drowned out everything else. Whatever had happened with Axel, whatever came next, I knew I wasn’t alone in this. And that thought brought a quiet sense of peace, at least for now.

—

‘Hmm, actually, I’m craving some carbonara,’ I murmur, glancing at Sam. Her eyes light up immediately.

‘I was thinking about chicken Alfredo pasta!’ she says excitedly, clapping her hands together.

‘Oh my god, let’s go home, change, head to a restaurant, and then after dinner, we can go to the bonfire!’ She practically bounces up, her enthusiasm contagious.

‘Great idea!’ I smile, already standing and gathering my things. Together, we headed back, excited for what the rest of the day would bring.

—

As I stood before the mirror, meticulously blow-drying my hair and carefully placing each section into rollers to achieve the perfect blowout effect, Sam’s voice cut through the sound of the dryer. ‘There’s a rather upscale restaurant nearby. Should I secure a reservation?’ she inquired with an air of casual consideration.

I peeked my head from behind the bathroom door, offering her a warm smile and a thumbs-up in approval. Her eyes brightened instantly, and she clapped her hands together in delight before quickly retrieving her phone. The soft sound of her dialing the restaurant reached my ears as I turned my attention back to the task at hand, carefully selecting my outfit for the evening. I moved to the closet, my fingers brushing over the fabric of my beige trousers, before settling on the white off-the-shoulder long-sleeve top I had in mind.

Through the sound of Sam’s conversation, I could hear her thanking the restaurant and concluding the call with a polite farewell, placing the phone down on the nearby counter.

‘We have thirty minutes,’ Sam announced, her voice tinged with urgency as she hurriedly began to sift through her own wardrobe. She was clearly eager to be on our way.

In the meantime, I scanned the room for my brown leather bag, which I quickly located beside the dresser. I moved purposefully to grab it, my fingers instinctively reaching for a few essentials—lip balm, a compact mirror, and my phone—before stowing them away with precision. Every movement, though rushed, was deliberate, and the anticipation of the evening ahead added a sense of excitement to the otherwise ordinary act of getting ready.

—

‘Mmm, that was absolutely delicious,’ Samantha exclaimed, placing her fork and knife neatly on her plate. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. I was still savoring the last bite of my meal, enjoying every mouthful, but Sam was already thinking ahead.

‘I’m going for a tiramisu,’ I said, setting my cutlery down gently on the plate. Sam’s eyes lit up as she made a mental note of her own dessert choice.

‘I think I’ll go with the cheesecake,’ she replied with a grin, clearly excited about the sweet treat ahead. The waiter passed by, and Sam quickly flagged him down, placing our dessert orders with a touch of enthusiasm.

As we waited for our desserts, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. We discussed the things we might do when we returned to Los Angeles—the places we’d visit, the activities we’d try, and all the adventures we would inevitably have once we were back in familiar surroundings.

‘We should definitely go to the beach as soon as we’re back,’ Sam suggested, her tone dreamy as she stared out the window at the darkening sky. ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve just relaxed, you know? No schedule, no obligations… just the sun and sand.’

I nodded in agreement. ‘And maybe we can check out that new art exhibit downtown. I’ve heard great things about it.’

Sam tilted her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully. ‘That sounds perfect. A little culture mixed with some chill beach time… who wouldn’t love that?’

The waiter soon returned with our desserts, placing the rich, creamy tiramisu in front of me and the decadent cheesecake in front of Sam. We both smiled at the sight of our treats before diving in, the conversation briefly taking a backseat as we indulged in the sweet, velvety desserts. For now, there was no rush, no pressing plans—just the simple joy of good food and even better company.

—

After we ate, we didn’t head back to the hotel but instead made our way straight to the beach. The warm evening air felt refreshing, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was calming. I found myself hoping that I might run into Axel again and get the chance to talk to him, to clear the air after everything that had happened.

As we walked, I suddenly felt a presence beside me, and before I could react, a familiar arm draped around my shoulders. I froze for a moment, instinctively recognizing the clean, woodsy scent of cologne I knew all too well. I turned to find Kwon smiling down at me, his face slightly flushed and his movements a bit unsteady. I could already smell the alcohol on him, and it made me wary.

‘Hey, Y/n,’ he said, his voice a little slurred. He stopped walking, and I followed suit, feeling Sam tense beside me.

‘Kwon, what do you want?’ Sam asked, crossing her arms over her chest, her tone already laced with annoyance. She had never been a fan of his presence, and it was obvious she wasn’t happy to see him now either.

Kwon ignored Sam’s cold response and focused his attention on me. ‘Y/n… I have a question…’ he said, his words dragging a little as he reached for my hand. His hands were warm and soft, but the unsteady way he held it made me hesitate for a moment.

I tilted my head slightly, waiting for him to finish.

‘Can you pleaseee give me a hug?’ he asked, his voice almost childlike. His words were slurred, but there was something in his expression that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual confident arrogance or teasing I’d seen from him before. No, this was different. He looked… vulnerable, maybe even a little desperate.

Sam burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but giggle as well. Kwon’s face remained earnest, though, and despite the humor of the situation, I couldn’t ignore the underlying sadness in his eyes.

I softened, realizing that, despite his arrogance, he was in some kind of emotional state—one that probably wasn’t all that different from mine in moments like this. So, with a small smile, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

The warmth of his embrace was brief but surprising, and when I pulled away, Kwon didn’t say anything. He simply looked at me for a moment, almost as if he was processing something. Sam was still chuckling beside us, but there was a sense of quiet tension between Kwon and me, one that I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret.

‘Can we talk, please? Alone?’ Kwon’s voice was low, and he looked at Sam, almost pleading with his eyes. Sam, sensing the shift in his tone, raised her hands in mock surrender.

‘I’ll be by the bonfire,’ she said, pointing to a group of people gathered around the crackling flames a short distance away. I gave her a quick nod and a thumbs up, signaling that everything was fine. She walked off, leaving Kwon and me standing in the quiet space between the noise of the beach and the bonfire.

I turned my attention back to Kwon, who seemed less confident than usual. He was pacing slightly, his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure what to say. There was an unusual tension in his posture, something different from the usual cocky swagger he wore so effortlessly.

‘So… have you ever heard of “drunk words are sober thoughts?”’ Kwon asked, his words slow and deliberate as if he was choosing each one carefully. There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him.

I nodded, unsure of what to say next. I had heard the saying before, but this time it felt different—more significant. Kwon wasn’t the type to share much, especially when it came to emotions. His usual bravado seemed to have taken a backseat, and for a moment, I could see the struggle in his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it,’ I replied, keeping my voice calm, trying to read him. ‘What does that have to do with this?’

Kwon took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the sand beneath our feet. He seemed almost lost in his thoughts before looking back up at me. There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes now, something raw and honest that I hadn’t seen before.

‘By that, I really want to say that…’ Kwon trailed off, his words stuck in his throat as if he couldn’t quite find the right way to finish his sentence.

‘Fuck, Y/n, you’re making this extra difficult,’ he muttered under his breath, his frustration evident. He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, his gaze darting around as if looking for some kind of escape. It was clear he wasn’t used to being vulnerable, and it was making him uncomfortable.

I frowned, sensing the shift in his mood. He had always been so confident, so sure of himself, but now he seemed like he was struggling to find his footing. Before I could say anything, Kwon suddenly grabbed my shoulder, his touch firm but not aggressive. He looked at me, his expression tense but also filled with something else—maybe desperation, maybe hope.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he asked, his voice quieter now, a hint of uncertainty in it that I hadn’t heard before.

I hesitated for a moment, but then I nodded. There was something about the way he was looking at me, something that made me want to hear him out, even if I didn’t entirely understand what was going on.

‘Yeah,’ I said softly. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

He let out a breath of relief, as though my answer gave him a small sense of peace. Without another word, he guided me away from the spot we had been standing, the tension between us still lingering in the air but not as heavy as before. We began walking along the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the silence between us.

There was a long silence between us, a thick, suffocating pause that seemed to stretch on forever. The air between us felt charged, uncomfortable, like something unsaid was hanging there, waiting to be acknowledged. I could feel the tension in his posture, the way he was walking just a little too close, but not close enough.

Then, as if it couldn’t stay quiet any longer, Kwon broke the silence. His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was an edge to it.

‘I hate the feeling when I see you with Axel,’ he said suddenly, his words slicing through the air like a confession he hadn’t meant to make.

I stopped walking, my heart skipping a beat. I turned to him, trying to read his expression, but it was unreadable—like he was fighting some internal battle, the one I hadn’t been prepared for. My stomach twisted as I tried to figure out what he meant, but before I could ask, he looked away, his jaw clenched.

And then, without warning, he took a deep breath and said something that completely threw me off balance.

‘I… I can’t just stand by and watch anymore.’

¡Important!

A/n : Sorry for the cliffhanger, everyone! I’m sad to announce that my posting schedule might become a bit less frequent in the coming weeks. With exam week just around the corner, I have a lot on my plate—I’ll be preparing for a total of nine exams, one for each subject, and I really want to do my best to pass them all.

But don’t worry, this doesn’t mean I’ll stop posting altogether! It just means updates will be spaced out a little more—probably every 4-5 days instead of the usual 1-2 days. I hope you can understand and bear with me during this time.

I’m excited to share that I’m now posting my story on Wattpad as well! You can find me there under the username @zochya. If you prefer reading on Wattpad, the story is available for you to enjoy there too!

Thank you so much for your support and for following along with my story. It means the world to me! Also, apologies for any grammar mistakes—I’m doing my best! I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and I can’t wait to share more with you soon!

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

[fruitjoos]

pov: you’re sick and boyfriend patrick comes to save the day

note: literally need this right now. i hate being sick :( !!! where’s my patrick zweig ugh!!!

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

Patrick didn’t even knock when he arrived at your apartment. The lock clicked open, and you stirred from your cocoon of blankets on the couch. You barely registered the familiar sound of his raggedy sneakers against the floor until the scent of his cologne reached you.

“Patrick?” you croaked, your voice raspy and weak.

“In the flesh,” he said softly, setting down a backpack and shrugging off his coat. “Heard you weren’t feeling so great and figured you needed backup.”

You blinked at him, your fevered brain struggling to process. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Stanford?”

Patrick rolled his eyes lightly, already heading toward your tiny kitchen. “Yeah, and?” he teased, placing a green tin of your favorite chamomile lavender tea on the counter. “What was I gonna do, stay there knowing you’re over here coughing your lungs out?”

From the bag, he pulled out a neatly wrapped loaf of lemon drizzle cake. Your favorite, the kind with the sugary glaze that cracked perfectly, and a small container of fresh raspberries. “You’re a tea and cake kind of sick person,” he remarked, holding them up with a soft grin.

“You came all this way,” you murmured, half in awe, “for tea and cake?”

“For you,” he corrected, setting the kettle on. “Now hush. Let me work my magic.”

Minutes later, he was perched on the edge of the couch, holding a steaming mug up for you like it was an offering. “Drink,” he said gently, his other hand brushing back the hair clinging to your damp forehead. “You’ll feel better.”

The tea was warm and soothing against your sore throat, and you let out a quiet sigh, leaning into him without thinking. Patrick chuckled, tucking the blanket tighter around you. “You’re really leaning into the damsel act, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered weakly, the tea shaking in your hands.

“Not a chance,” he teased, but his voice carried only tenderness. He took the mug from you once you’d had enough and swapped it for a small plate of cake. “Think you can manage this, or do I need to feed it to you?”

A small laugh slipped out of you, and Patrick grinned. “There’s the sound I’ve been waiting for,” he said, sitting back beside you.

After you managed a few bites, he eased himself onto the couch, shifting so you could rest your head against his chest. His arms wrapped around you carefully, pulling you closer. “Alright, you’ve got your tea, your snacks. Now it’s cuddle time,” he murmured, his voice a soothing hum against your hair.

The steady rhythm of his breathing began to lull you into a drowsy haze. His fingers trailed soft, aimless patterns along your arm, and every so often, he’d press a kiss to your temple or the top of your head.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Of course I did,” Patrick whispered, holding you tighter. “You think I’d let you deal with this on your own?”

You didn’t respond, already half asleep, but your hand instinctively tightened on his sweater. Patrick smiled down at you, his voice barely audible as he added, “Get some rest. I’m here for as long as you need me.”

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night

ꕥ series masterlist & taglist ⋆. 𐙚 ˚masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3

⟢summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

⟢pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

⟢warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !

⟢wc: 4,027

Chapter 1: Where Fiction Becomes A Reality

She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)

She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)

Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)

She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)

Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.  

She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)

George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.  

Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible. 

‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’

“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico. 

It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.

“Umm… I- I’m sorry?” 

The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful. 

“The bus–” 

She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude. 

She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.    

“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her. 

“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her. 

A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.

“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear. 

The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting. 

“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin. 

“Yes, almost like I've lived through it” 

She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid. 

The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.” 

Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news) 

“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?” 

She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!

But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away. 

“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.

“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist. 

Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance. 

She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision. 

Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.

From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection. 

She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)

“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together. 

“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile. 

The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.

In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies. 

In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run. 

She ignored it, again. 

“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)

She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit. 

She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.  

Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze. 

“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen. 

She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore. 

She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family. 

A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood. 

She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have. 

Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys) 

Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair. 

Silver. 

Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?” 

Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.

Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth. 

Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight. 

“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.” 

Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.” 

She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.

Not now. Not ever. 

She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so. 

“I don’t—” 

“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye. 

She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.

“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.

She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist. 

“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.” 

Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…

There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down. 

She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.” 

Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her. 

Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)

Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.

The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)

Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)

It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…

But not to Alyssandra.

Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp. 

However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic. 

“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.

All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully. 

Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic. 

“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out. 

She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.  

But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative. 

“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red. 

“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe. 

She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic. 

Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand. 

Blood. Her blood. 

Run! 

“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face. 

“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor. 

“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…” 

She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there. 

Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)

“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.” 

She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.” 

There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned. 

Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.” 

Fuck. 

“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?” 

Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one. 

She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass) 

“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.” 

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[hewsongf]

PERFECT STORM

pairing elijah hewson x fem! reader

trope established relationship

warnings pure fluff. nudity mentioned but not sexual

summary she gets caught in a storm and elijah helps her stay warm.

words 1.2k

Every part of her body was soaked. Her blouse had become see-through. Her skirt had become pounds heavier. Drops of water slid down her bare legs. Every time she walked, her Doc Martens squelched. Her socks were wet, and her feet were cold and pruny. She let out a shaky sigh as she walked up the stairs up to her apartment. Her soaked hair was in a clip that was digging into the back of her head.

He heard the sound of keys jangling. The door was unlocked. She came in and was already leaving a puddle of water on the wooden floor.

He chuckled. "What the fuck happened?" He asked, a bit amused but also concerned. He left his spot on the couch and walked over to her.

"I got caught in the rain. Didn't bring my umbrella."

"I told you to take an umbrella this morning."

"Yeah, whatever." She snapped. She dropped her bag on the floor. His mouth closed before making a snarky remark. She was obviously pretty annoyed. He watched her take off her boots.

"Come on." He said then took her hand and dragged her into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet of the tub. Temperature is pretty warm. "Sit." He commanded while motioning to the toilet cap. She did.

He pulled off her drenched socks. Then he unbuttoned her white blouse. He did everything tenderly. She kept staring at him. He looked tired. She knew he had been up very late writing. He took her bra off. Shame was no longer in the picture. He had seen her bare body many times. He wasn't even looking at her that way.

"You don't have to do this." She whispered to him. He finally looked her in the eyes as he pulled her up to take off her skirt. "I know." He replied, then unzipped her skirt. She felt warmth through her chest. That was in big contrast with the way her body felt. He always made her feel warm.

He helped her get out of her underwear. He also pulled her hair clip off and stuck his fingers through her scalp. He massaged her head, and she sighed. A moan escaped her, and he chuckled. Then he stuck the tips of his fingers in the water to check the temperature. It was a good type of warm now. He gave her a hand and helped her get in the tub. He caressed the top of her head.

"I'm going to go make you some tea. You're probably going to catch a cold." She was shivering slightly. Her nose was red, and she was sniffling. She nodded, and he stepped out of the bathroom.

He put the kettle on. He wasn't upset at her for snapping. Or the way she obviously was in a piss-poor mood. She tended to be a little moody. Whenever she ran out of patience or was annoyed at something, she was a bit intense. He never took it personal. It brought humor to him — which she hated. He usually got her to come around, though.

The kettle was taking forever. He heard the sound of the drain. Hopefully she was warmer now. She left the bathroom and went to their room. He messed with the settings of their stove. Increasing the heat. Her small frame came into the kitchen. Sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a hoodie she stole from him on her body. He was leaning back on the counter facing her. She looked shy as she got closer. They didn't speak. She was ringing her hands. He grabbed one of her hands and pulled her into him. Her face nuzzled into his neck.

"Sorry, I snapped at you. She murmured into his skin. He scoffed, the sound vibrating through her body.

"That was nothing. It didn't bother me."

"Still. I don't like it when I'm mean to you."

"You're always mean. That's why I like you so much." He kissed her cheek, and she smiled. He looked down into her eyes lovingly. He could decipher anything she was feeling by looking at those gorgeous big green eyes of hers. "Are you warm? Your lips are still kind of blue."

"I'm good now." She nodded while looking up at him.

"Want me to warm them up?" He asked with a cheeky grin, and she chuckled. He pulled her in and placed his lips on hers. His lips were soft and warm against hers. She could taste the remnants of a cigarette in his mouth. He had probably had a smoke earlier. He cupped her face. Calloused hands against soft, cold cheeks. He slipped his tongue in her mouth, and she shivered. This time it wasn't from the cold. He tasted her. She was his favorite flavor. She hummed. His hands left her cheeks and settled them on her hips. Pulling her closer. He could do this forever. He ran his hands up her sides. The kettle whistled. It scared them both, and their lips separated with a smack.

"Shite." He cursed, then grabbed a handcloth and placed it over the handle. He poured the hot water into the two mugs. Her favorite mug. It read, 'Dibs on the lead singer.' His was a U2 mug with his dad's face plastered on it. It was a gag gift from her. He made both their teas how they liked it.

"Careful. It's hot." He warned before he passed the mug to her. She blew on the hot liquid. Smoke fanned her face. They moved to the couch and just sat there in comfort and silence. Elijah and her could always relax together. Especially when he's in vocal rest. She can tell what he wants without him even speaking.

He was being so sweet to her. It made her eyes burn. He wasn't looking at her, but she was looking at him. Sometimes when she looked at him, feelings would choke her. Sitting at her throat, waiting to be spilt. They had been dating for around 6 months. She hadn't said it yet. The word had always made her uncomfortable. She had warned him about it. He said it to her first. Sometimes he drops it in conversations.

Right now though. The words were at the tip of her tongue. Ready to stumble out.

"Eli..." She let out breathlessly. His head turned. He saw her expression. His brow raised in question. "What is it?"

"I..." She gulped. She didn't know why this was so difficult for her. She cursed. He sat up straight. He could tell her. He just knew. Taking a sip of his tea before speaking.

"You don't have to say it. I know."

"What?" Her mouth agape. Eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't possibly know what she was about to say.

"Oh, come on. Did you think I didn't know? I see it on your face every day." He chuckled at her face.

"See what on my face?"

"Love."

"Fuck off." She rolled her eyes. He laughed louder this time. She crawled towards him. He smirked at her.

"You're such a bloody eejit." She sat on his lap. A peck to her lips.

"That you love."

"Yeah, whatever, fucker. I love you." He smiled widely now. Almost giddy. His cheeks turned pink.

"Are you blushing?"

"Yeah, whatever. I love you more."

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 8: It's a natural progression

genre: will ever write something not angsty?

word count: 6793

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

I decided to give you all a pause from Abigail because we're now turning into an Abigail Hater Club HAHAH

This is the third time you’re saying this, but you’ll keep saying it until Spencer hears you. “I am not relocating.”

“Y/N, if she found out where you are, we need you to be somewhere else,” Spencer groans, but you have no mercy on him; not this time. Not after everything. 

His hair is pointing everywhere, surely from the way your stubbornness is making him tug at it like he needs the sting on his scalped to remind him to focus. It’s been almost thirty minutes of you two arguing, and this isn’t exactly the conversation you wanted to have when you first woke up that morning. In fact, you could have lived your entire life without having this conversation and you would probably have been a very, very happy woman. Alas, things never really seem to go your way even when they are going right. And right now, you are far, far away from things going right. 

“I am not going to relocate!” You say again, exasperation getting to you the more he insists. Now, your hands are flying around you and it’s like you two have switched places for a second– while he seems tense and immobile, you are gesticulating like crazy, trying to make a point with your entire body; you are not leaving. “I’m done relocating! I’m done being am active case that doesn’t move on! I’m done being thrown around like a doll! Maybe that’s her end game, Spence– have you thought of that?! That she gets some sort of… of… sadistic satisfaction from seeing me squirm away every single time!” You cry out, brows furrowed in frustration. Nothing is making sense to you, and your anger only grows. Why is he so okay with sending you away like it means nothing to you? Why is he not using that big, beautiful brain of his to find other solutions than just rid of you? “I can’t keep running! I can’t keep stopping my life anymore, Spence, I can’t! I–“ 

An odd sense of coldness comes down on you, like a wave crashing against the walls of your stomach, spreading through your veins, cooling down your stressed out brain. It takes you a little while, but you finally understand. You understand his hesitation, his silence, and you understand it as an answer. “I’ll go home,” You mumble, looking down at your hands. They laid lifeless on your lap, almost like they are now tired from all the talking through them. “Yeah, I– I think that’s the best idea. It’ll be relocating, right? I’ll g back home. You must be tired of me here, anyways, and–“

“Don’t.” 

The ice in his voice startles you enough to have you scoffing. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t make this about something that it isn’t,” His voice is in that whisper-scream pitch that you’ve heard him using with other people. Never you, though. Spencer never got this aggravated with you before, not even when you kept leaving your tea bags inside your empty mugs until they were dry. This, the way he is talking right now, is beyond annoyance. This is anger. Spence is angry at you and that doesn’t make you feel any better. “I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

“The give up already,” You whisper back, slowly getting up from where you’re sitting. “Because I’m not going anywhere that is not my own apartment across the street.” 

The package is still sitting on his counter, and you hate that you can feel it burning deep in your soul. At first, he didn’t want you looking at it, trying to keep you away, but you don’t like when you Spencer keeps secrets and you just push away his hand that is reaching for you. This sounds a bit insane, now that you think back to it, but when you first see the book cover, so familiar you can quote some of its content, you laugh. It’s a daring move, but an effective one– Kill Me If You Can, by James Patterson and Marshall Karp, is all about the chase. And all about the run. “That fucking bitch,” You whisper to yourself, grabbing the book and opening it to the cover page, where her inscription would obviously be– Dear Y/N, Check-mate. What now? XOXO Cat.

You’ve never hurt a book before, but you have half a mind to rip that one to shreds with your bare hands. 

“No, no, no, you are relocating and that’s the end of it.” 

To Spencer, you are the sweetest of the sweets– sugar pours out of your lips and he had the pleasure to taste it. No way he will risk losing that now, not before he can have a chance to douse himself in them. But every time you cuss, every time you frown, he swears that sugar gets the slightest hint of bitterness, and every time he blushes because of it, every time he lets out a sharp exhale with his eyes fixated on you, he can’t help but wonder how well that bitterness would mix in with your sugar. 

Right now, though, you are about to get downright rotten. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Spencer Reid?” His full name sounds wrong when you feel this pissed off. “You’re not my dad!” 

“No, I’m not your dad, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m trying to keep you safe!” This time he screams; he truly, really screams, neck veins popping out and face reddening with the strength of his words. Spencer revels yet another side of himself to you. “I’ve lost enough, okay?! I’ve lost enough… First Maeve, then Gideon, and, a-and, and now you– I can’t lose you! You can’t die, you can’t die on me, and it’s like you keep trying to! You refuse to cooperate, you-you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and you’ll drive me insane! So please, don’t… don’t let me lose you…” 

The way his voice dies out should’ve been enough to get you to quiet down, but tensions are high and now you feel like you’ve just been hit with a brick to the face.

“You’re my what?!” 

This is news to you, though it doesn’t seem to be news to him. You’ve been dreaming of hearing that word slipping from his mouth, you won’t lie, but not like this. Not in a fight, and your first fight at that. 

Spencer seems shocked at your surprise, and you two go quiet for the first time in what feels like hours. 

“Am… Am I not?” You are still in awe of how Spencer can go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. A second ago, he looked like he was about to rip his hair out of his head and now he was back tohis normal bright, wide eyes and fidgeting hands. Whiplash isn’t enough to describe how you’re feeling, staring at him with your mouth hanging open, willing for words to come out but failing every single time. “Oh god, I’m not. I’m sorry, I just assumed that after last night we–“

“Wait, stop, stop, stop!” You shriek, hands going up to cover your face. “I need a second to think!”

“No, you don’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, just forget everything I said, I just–“

“I might not have an eidetic memory, but I don’t think I can ever forget what you just said,” You breathe out, hands shaking as you pushed your hair back and away from your face. “Spence… you thought we were dating?”

This has him paralysed. “That’s what you want to talk about? Right now? After everything I said?”

“I want to talk about everything,” You do, you really do; but you need to get this out of your chest right now. You need to start clean. “But we need to talk about this first… because I need to know how to act when we get to the rest of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Spence, we kissed,” You whisper, hands sliding down your face with a frustrated groan. “And I thought that maybe… I don’t know, I thought we were going somewhere good, you know? Somewhere at all! But then we got to the room and you just pushed me away!” 

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to!” Spencer defending himself like this feels like you’re living in an alternate reality. To be honest, even if you had had the chance to talk to him like you initially intended to, you weren’t really sure what you’d do after. It wasn’t a situation in which you could predict an outcome, not when it comes to Spencer– he is too good in hiding form the world. Too good in hiding from you. “Y/N, I swear, that’s all! I wanted more, I always want more when it comes to you but I don’t want to get greedy and scare you off.”

“What about the next morning?” If you don’t sit down, you think your legs will buckle under you. So you sink onto the couch, head on your hands trying to keep you from looking at him with hopeful eyes. Spencer doesn’t want to pressure you and you don’t want to pressure him– and just like that you two fall in a cursed, never-ending dance. In a game where both are in defence, no one wins. One of you has to either take a risk or go home crying. And you’re oh so tired of going home crying… “The next morning you didn’t kiss me or, or, or talked to me! I woke up and you weren’t even in bed!” 

“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed,” This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Had you really jumped the gun here? “But when I got out of the shower, you were already freaking out about Abigail!”

“What– But what about after?!”

“After we talked about Abigail, I got a call from work and you were almost pushing me out of the door yourself!” This time around, you don’t ask anymore questions, not when you can see how exasperated Spencer is getting. “You said–” 

“Now is not the time to quote me,” You say as softly as you can. Though sometimes it can sting, having your words thrown back at you, you can’t help but smile every time he does it. The secret is in knowing Spencer isn’t trying to hurt you, but simply attempting to logically solve whatever issue he has to face. What he doesn’t seem to understand though, is that sometimes, the issues of the heart, aren’t logical to begin with. 

“I’m just trying to… I don’t know what I’m trying to do, but this is all a bit misunderstanding,” He shuffles closer to you with that look in his eyes that you’ve seen before in the mirror, your own familiar desperation glaring back at you with that lost, confused glint of what will happen next? “Please, I don’t… I don’t have much experience but I– I don’t want to lose you. Y/N, please… help me.” 

“Spence, what do you mean?” 

“Help me,” He whispers again, worry sketched on his face like it belongs there. His breathing is shallow, and you notice the way his hands wrangle each other in his lap. If anything, he’s trying, and failing, to hide from you for the the first time. As gently as possible, you reach up with a small smile playing on your lips, and you press your thumb to the lines between his brows, soothing them in a back and forth motion. “Help me, I don’t know what to do.” 

The way he chuckles in that coy way he does whenever he feels like he’s out of his league is what pushes you forward, the carefulness of your actions clashing with the eagerness in your kiss. You’ve been waiting for this all day, and everything inside you melts when you feel his hands reaching up hold you close, cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing he has ever touched. There is a slight shake to them when his lips move over yours and you can’t help but smile, laying your smaller hands over his– I got you, you want to tell him. I’ll help you. 

“Y/N…” His words hit you with a puff of air, lips brushing against each other every time he speaks. If Spencer pulls back an inch, you follow; if you try to put some distance, he follows. The wall between you two that had been shaken before was now completely shattered, bulldozed by his hands sliding down your neck, your sides, tugging on your waist until you’re as close as you can possibly be. Until you’re on his lap, surrounded his arms, overtaken by him and him only. “Don’t go home.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” You promise, laying your head on his shoulder like you’ve done many other times before. “I’m not relocating.” 

“Y/N–” 

“Who’s Maeve?” 

His body tenses underneath you horribly, and you hate that it’s all because of you. “I–“ 

“You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to,” You say, pushing his hair away from his panicked eyes. “I just want you to know I heard you. I heard you talking about Maeve and Gideon and me, and I think if we want to start… whatever this is… we need to lay our cards down,” It’s a risky move, if anything. Not only are you asking him about his past, you will also allow him to ask about yours, and that is only fair.

“But what is this?” He asks, eyes sharp on yours while you play with his hair to try and distract yourself from the reality of it all. “What are we?” 

“I mean, you said you were my boyfriend, right?” You don’t want to be the one to make a decision this big, but then again, it shouldn’t be all him.

“Then what are you?” He mumbled, eyes threatening to shut the more your fingers run through his hair. “Are you my girl?” 

A move you don’t really expect from Spencer, but that is welcome nonetheless. The way you two look at each other, like teenagers all giggly about confessing, is equal parts pathetic and hilarious. But it’s the way you two chose to go about it and that is all that matters. Until you remember that this is reality, and you’re not a teenager anymore– there are higher stakes at play here that have to be addressed. There is heartbreak in the end. Pain. Hurt. Fear. That’s what you had before, waiting for you in the end of a very dark tunnel, and you’re scared that’s what will be waiting for you this time around, too. Not because of Spencer, but because of you.

“Joshua McMannon,” You mumble, slowly climbing out of his lap and sitting on the other side of the couch. Like a barrier, you bring your legs up, hugging your knees close to your chest in an action that Spencer will surely read right– separation, space. It happens whenever you talk about Josh, the wave of shame and embarrassment that paralyses you inside-out. The self-loathing. “He was uh, a big shot new player in the stock market, worked for some big firm I forgot the name. We met in a bar, I think. I know this sounds crazy but I blank on a lot of memories that include him, it’s– it’s hard to think back.”

“Y/N–“ 

“No Spence, I can’t ask about you your past without telling you about mine, that’s not how it works,” You say with such a tone of finality that he doesn’t even try to fight you on it. “So please, just… listen to me. The entire thing, because it makes me look dumb and foolish, I know it does, but I want to be honest with you, I don’t want this coming back later to haunt us, okay? So just… don’t judge me to harshly. Please.” 

His silence is enough to encourage you to keep on going. 

“You know a bit about it and there isn’t much more to tell, to be very honest,” There are some undertones of anxiety in your voice, and you know he hears it. You know he wants to move, pull you back to him, comfort you, anything. But he respects the shield you’ve put up and he listens, just like you asked. “He was one of those guys that love the chase, you know? Likes showing off, too, so I was always uh, well dressed and all that jazz. Josh hates when I– no. Sorry. Josh hated when I looked sloppy. He worked hard to play hard, according to him, so he wanted to show things off. Expensive restaurants every day, expensive clubs every night… expensive girlfriend all around.”

“No,” Spencer quickly blurts out one of the many words he’s surely holding in. “No, Y/N, you’re not something to show off, you’re not a thing!” 

“You’re sweet,” You chuckle. “But I was a thing to Josh. Something he owned, remember? And I fell for it, Spence. I was so, so stupid and desperate that I said nothing, I just went along and played into his fantasy until I couldn’t anymore. So I started talking back. Saying ‘no.’ You know what happens next, I guess. You know his type. I didn’t.” 

Gulping, you look down at your hands embarrassedly. Spencer would’ve clocked Josh on the dot. He would’ve known who he was and what he’d do in a second. You, on the other hand, hadn’t been so smart. Probably still aren’t. Probably never will be. It’s hard, not putting yourself down when you’re telling the smartest man you know about such idiotic mistakes.

“Y/N, don’t even think about it,” Spencer hisses and all restraint is gone. He is sliding down the couch to sit close to you, and his hands sneak under your knee and give a gentle tug. He’s trying to respect your need for your own space, but he needs to make sure you’re listening to him. “You’re not dumb. You are not stupid. You are a kind woman with a heart too big for assholes like him, and I won’t have you thinking this was your fault. Sweetheart, this is all his fault. You had nothing to do with that, you… you were just in love.” 

“I wasn’t, though,” You whisper, shaking your head slowly. “I really liked him. Like, a lot. But I didn’t love him.” 

“It doesn’t matter, sweet girl,” He gently put your legs over his, hands holding onto your calves like it’s his lifeline. “There is no scenario in which this is your fault. None. Do you hear me?” 

“I hear you,” You’re not lying– you hear him, you truly do. But believing him is a whole other thing, and you’re not sure if you’re there yet. “I’ve been hearing you, Spence. Every time you explain something new or you tell me some more fun facts, I hear you. It’s just that this time around it’s a little bit harder to process, that’s all.” 

“This is a fact like all the other facts I’ve told you,” With one more pull, you get closer and closer to his body until you can feel the press of those perfect lips against your forehead. “It’s irrefutable– none of this is your fault, angel. None of it.” 

Nodding, you relax onto his hold, head resting on his shoulder when you deliver the final blow. “Him hitting me wasn’t my fault, I know that much. I ran after that. It sounds a bit drastic, but I had never been in the position before and Josh is someone with a lot of influence back in New York. I would have never survived in there and I would’ve been scared all the time.” 

“He touched you?” The way he says it, voice sharp like a knife, makes you look up at him with squinted eyes. “Where?”

“What does it matter?”

“Where did he hurt you?” 

Chuckling, you grab his hand and lean your cheek onto it. “Right here,” You whisper, turning a little to drop a kiss on his palm.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Everything about  him screams comfort, from how his thumb gently caresses your face to the way his lips pull downwards in disscontempt. You know that by now, he’s making a mental note to run Josh’ name through Garcia, but that is something you will deal with later. Despite their good intentions, that is not a door you want to open any time soon. “I–“ 

“You will do nothing about it, Spencer Reid,” You say with as a teasing warning. You don’t know that, but Spencer wonders how can you smile while telling him about such terrible memories; how could you withstand pain so well without telling anyone about it before. “Whatever happened happened and it’s done. I just wanted to be honest and give you the full picture before… we make decisions.” 

“And what do you think this will accomplish, huh? That it will change my mind? Make me regret it?”

“I don’t know Spence,” You groan. “I’m just… trying to be honest.”

“And I appreciate that, Y/N,” This time, he kisses you on the lips, but it’s too fast and too light to satisfy the yearning inside of you. “But nothing will make me change my mind. Much less that asshole. I want you. I’ve wanted you since I met you, I–”

His pause lingers in the air with a something heavy over it. This time, you shuffle on his lap to try and get a better look of his face, legs holding you up on each side of him. It’s such an intimate position to be in, you straddling him with his hands dragging from your waist to your thighs then back up again; your hands playing with the little curls by the nape of his neck; his lips, opening and closing and opening again in what feels like failed attempt after failed attempt to tell you something. 

“I– I think I’ve wanted you since Maeve died.” 

There is a lot to unpack in this sentence, but you keep your expression clean of any reaction. He doesn’t need you gasping and fawning over him… he just needs you to listen.

“And I know it sounds messed up and weird, but like, the metaphorical you, you know? The you you are but disembodied and– and now I’m not making any sense, but I mean it.” 

“I know you meant it,” You whisper, nails gently scrapping his scalp. “It’s okay, you can not make sense, I’ll figure it out. I’m good with puzzles.” 

“You are terrible with puzzles, angel,” He chuckles and your shoulders relax a little. “I’ve seen you trying to put together that Pride and Prejudice poster puzzle… I think you’re just good with me.” 

“Hm, I think so to,” You smile. “Why don’t we start from the beginning then? Tell me your story.” 

Nodding, Spencer tugged you a bit closer and you like it– this tugging habit of his, the need to have you pressed against him winning against his need to keep the germs at bay. In a very simplistic way, it makes you feel special. 

“Maeve… I loved Maeve,” He admits, eyes looking into yours with an insecurity that is misplaced– though you are not above feeling the poke of jealousy down deep in your gut, you are mature enough to know when you are being an absolute idiot, and you smile at him. “I love Maeve, but I am no longer in love with Maeve. I mean, she’s dead, so…” Spencer clears his throat for a second, and when he’s ready– only when he’s ready– he continues. 

There is real pain in his voice as he tells you the entire thing, and there is real pain in your voice as you call him name oh so carefully. The tears in his eyes are few, but they are there, and you thumb them away as gently as you can. In your hands is the shell of the man you know, his words slowing down as his brain surely relieves memories he wishes to delete. 

“Spencer,” You call, his eyes shut so tight you think he might just hurt himself if he continues like this. “Spence, I’m so sorry that happened.” 

“It was my fault,” He whispered as if he is in a confessionary. “Diane Turner. That was the name of the girl that killed her. We were trying to negotiate with her and… and I failed.” 

“Spencer, no,” Oh how the tables have turned. “The girl was going to kill Maeve no matter what, and I’m sorry that it came to this. I’m sorry–“ You can’t even say it, confused with your anger and how it makes your hands shake. 

She blindfolded him. 

She read his letters, his fears, and she made them real. 

That is enough to have you wishing you had shot her yourself. 

“Sweetheart,” He chuckles sadly, bigger hands coming to encage yours in a futile attempt to extinguish your anger. Bringing your knuckles to his lips, he kisses each and every single one of them, and for a moment you think he knows– he knows you’d be someone you’re not, for him. Someone who hurts other people. And you think he’d hate himself if that ever happened. “It was a long time ago…” 

“But it wasn’t your fault…” You move until you embrace him, body covering his like a blanket willing to keep him from the cruel, cruel world around you two. “No matter how long ago it was.”

“I guess that’s just something we both have to learn,” His voice is muffled by your sweater, and you pull back a little. When he offers you his pinky finger, you don’t need any explanation, wrapping yours around it with a giggle. “Something we’ll help each other learn.” 

“It’s a deal,” You whisper, leaning forward and dropping a slow kiss to his lips. “Sealed with a kiss.” 

“Does this mean that now you’re actually my girlfriend?” He asks after a while and you laugh, loud enough to burst the bubble you two created. 

“If you want me to be, yes.”

“I want you to be, in case you haven’t noticed by now,” God, you love when he jokes, the casual tone of his voice making you both relax. “But I also want to be your boyfriend.”

“Hm, you want an awful lot, don’t you?” Pushing his hair back, you smile impossibly wide. “Good think I want a lot, too.” The way he kisses you makes you believe that you truly are the only girl in the world, even if just his world. “Now you have to tell all the guys that hit on you that you are taken.” 

“Spence, what guys?!” You snort, eyes wide when you try to move and sit next to him. He is quick to catch you, though, and place you back on his lap. 

“Just because you don’t notice people flirting with you doesn’t mean they don’t!” 

“Okay, wait a second, I notice–“

“I’ve been flirting with you for months!” He says in that way that makes his voice go a tone higher, his smile so wide and bright that you can’t help but laugh. 

“Maybe you’re bad at flirting?” 

“Even Garcia noticed,” Spencer points out and you groan, knowing that if you admit defeat he will forever gloat. “But that’s okay. We got there in the end.”

“We did… which is why I’m not relocating.” 

“Y/N, this is for your safety.” 

“I’m safer closer to you,” You whisper. “Spence, I won’t be safe with god knows how many strangers surrounding me in a location I have no clue how to navigate. Here, I have you and I’m in a familiar place– I know the closest subway, bus stations, taxi points. I know the owner of the cafe down the street, I know your neighbours, hell, I even have Abigail! Isolating me is not safe. Please.” 

For a moment, you wait. You’re unsure if you got through to him, his eyes looking at you so intently that it’s a little embarrassing. Everyone knows his brain works differently– it works faster, better, more precisely. Whenever Spence zones out like this, it’s not because of lack of attention, but simply because he’s thinking… and what a wonderful thing it is to see him think; to see those theories taking form in his beautiful head, to see those honey coloured eyes working out probabilities that you’d never even get close to understand. He’s a special one, and you love that about him. Because you love him.

And as much as everything between you two is new, this feeling is quite old. 

This growing warmth in your chest, expanding like rivers of gold adoration through your veins. 

It’s not surprising that you love Spencer. 

It’s only natural, considering how much he loves you. 

How you know it? 

“Yeah, okay. I’d feel more comfortable with you here with me, anyways.”

Well, it’s obvious. 

“And you’re right, you know?” He continues, speeding through his words as if he’s trying to convince you and him both. “You know this area well. Cat has managed to get through us easily, and I don’t know what I’d do if she found you and I was the one to send you all alone to strange place where you can’t ask for help…”

“That won’t happen,” You promise, shaking your head at the terrifying thought. “So does that mean I’ll stay here or go home?” 

The reason you enjoy asking Spencer obvious questions is because sometimes, times like this, you get to see his personality shinning like a beacon in a dark night. His sassiness is so refreshing that you can’t help but giggle every time he lets it out. “Don’t be ridiculous,” He mumbled, rolling his eyes like the little know-it-all he is. “You’re obviously staying here. You’re my girlfriend, you’ll stay where I can protect you. Which is also something we have to talk about.” 

“Nooo,” You are so tired of talking about things at this point. “Can’t we talk about it tomorrow? Please, I just want to spend one nice evening with my boyfriend without discussing the fact that his psychopathic stalker wants to kill me.” 

“Y/N, that is not funny!” He gasps when you chuckle. “Sweetheart, I just want you safe. I think it would be important for us to have a plan if someone ever breaks into my apartment, for example. You should know where my gun is and–“

“Woah, woah, woah, no way!” You shriek, climbing off of his lap and standing right in front of him. The though of having to use a gun makes you nauseous. “I don’t want to know where your gun is, and I don’t want to even think about the possibility of having to actually point it at someone!”

“Okay,” Spencer says softly, getting up too and coming to hug you. Despite people thinking that Spencer is not quite adept to human touch, he has gotten quite good at comforting you, knowing exactly how to hold you and how to talk you down of your rising panic. “That’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll talk about it another day, we don’t have to overwhelm you right now, it’s alright, my angel.”

For a moment, the two of you just… stand there, swaying from side to side while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Can we just be normal for a night and watch a movie?” You finally ask, looking up at his smile because right now, that’s the only thing that matters to you– him. 

“Yeah, let’s watch a movie.”

For a few hours, life is perfect. 

For a few hours, you get to kiss him like you’ve been meaning to. Touch him like you’ve been meaning to. You get to run your hands through his unruly hair, pushing it back and feeling its softness slip between your fingers like the finest silk that ever was. He touches you, too, albeit a bit more reservedly. His fingers find the sliver of skin on your hip, thumb caressing back and forth, sending shivers up and down your spine. His lips brushed against your cheeks, your neck, your collarbones.

For a few hours, you laugh and smile and chat. You memorise more fun facts to put on your little notebook later, now secure on the left bedside table, right next to where you lay every night. He tells you how the movie doesn’t make logical sense and how they have physics all wrong. He points at the screen and his voice gets higher and higher with his passion for correcting fiction and you can’t help but shut him up with a languid kiss. 

For a few hours, you two are just a couple. This is just a date. And this are just good.

But the higher you climb, the better it gets, the harder you’ll fall. This might just be what Cat wants– you, in perpetual anxiety, always looking over your shoulder, always scared of losing the little you were able to build in your new life. From what Spence and his team have told you about her, Cat’s main skills are all mental; manipulation, gaslighting, coercing. Is this how you’re going to end? Terrified with ever step you take, antsy at your boyfriend’s house while watching a movie, giving up on your bookshop so that strangers don’t have such an easy access to your life? 

For a few hours, you didn’t have to worry about that. 

For a few hours only… because once the second movie is done, you two are forced to pull apart thanks to the incessant knocking on Spencer’s door. “If this is Abigail again,” Spencer warns as he gets up, lips all swollen from kissing and making out. “I will arrest her.” 

“On what grounds, agent?” You hug a pillow close to you, completely ignorant to your current messy hair and blushed face. 

“Cockblocking,” It’s so rare to hear such a word coming from someone like Spence that you can’t help but burst out laughing. “JJ?”

The name has your smile slipping a little. Why is JJ here? Did something happen? The moment Spencer opens the door, she’s marching inside, her beautiful blonde hair floating in the air as if she is some sort of magical being. “Spence, what the fuck?!” She cried out, completely oblivious to your presence in the couch. “Why are you not picking up your phone? I’ve been calling– Hotch mentioned something about you not taking Y/N to a secondary location, are you insane?! You can’t take care of her all by yourself, she’ll–“

You clear your throat as loud as you can, smiling sadly at her when she turns around with a shocked expression. “Hi, JJ.”

“Y/N, I’m– I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were here…”

“She is,” Spencer suddenly sounds quiet, eyes cast down as if he’s a child who’s been caught red-handed doing something wrong. But then he raises his head, chin high and chest puffing out a little. “And she’ll stay here with me. Y/N doesn’t want to be moved to a secondary location, and considering we don’t know who Cat’s secondary is, I wouldn’t say it’s wise for us to do so. She’ll be alone in an unknown place. I… I would prefer if she’s here. With me. And officer Kaper.”

JJ’s eyes go wide and you can understand her surprise to hear her usually shy and quiet co-worker being so adamant. Hell, even you are a little bit surprised. “What you prefer?! Spence, this is not about what you prefer! This is about– oh my god, you two were making out.” 

Her observation is so dry that you almost choke on air. “What?!” His voice is a dead give away. Or maybe it’s the way you wince, looking away from her, that gives you two away. “JJ, this is none–“ 

“You are having an interpersonal relationship with a victim under our protection in an active case,” It’s the way she describes you as a victim, as if that’s the only thing you are to her, that makes you exhale harshly. “Yes, Spencer, this is my business.” 

“Uhm, technically–“

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but not now,” She speaks to you like a mother, and from what Spence has told you about her, you know that she has two wonderful boys. Two kids for her to mother. You, however, are not one of them. 

Slowly rising up from the couch, your voice is shaky when you speak, but your proud of yourself regardless– confrontation is not your best suit, some might say it’s your worst suit, but there is no escape this time around. Not if you want to stay with Spencer. “I’m sorry, JJ, but yes, now. I’m the one this is all happening to. I’m not a passive participant in all of this and I do get to make choices, even if those choices are against your recommendation. I chose to stay here. Not Spence.”

“Why here? Why not–“

“I know the area!” You basically squeak, frowning deeply at her. The JJ you know is sweet and soft-spoken. This JJ is… well, not that. This JJ is someone who gets the job done. This JJ sees you as a job. And that hurts. “Cat knows you guys, she has shown us again and again that she is one step ahead– look at what happened to Officer Kaper. He has a family! His wife and kids were there and– fuck, JJ, if something happens here, I know where to go! I know where to run to, I know the back alleys, I know the people… I can’t handle you guys taking me away from everything I know again. I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t, I–“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re not going anywhere,” In a second, Spencer is by your side, arms pulling you into his chest. “You’re stay here, sweetheart.” 

“Spence–“

“JJ, do you think I’m stupid?” The question shocks the words out of both of you. “I calculated the odds, okay? I know the risks. I know the pros and cons. But do you know what else I know? I know that when we thought Maeve was safe, her stalker was in her apartment. We put her under protective custody, and Diane still got to her. She could’ve been with me, I could’ve saved her!”

JJ doesn’t speak, and neither do you. You are frozen in place. Spencer had told you about Maeve just hours ago, described the entire thing, told you all the details of what happened back then… but he never touched on the now. On how he feels now. On how he remembers the whole thing now. On how it still affected him now. You can feel the anxiety on the way his breath shudders. The anger in his words, the regret, the fucking guilt As gently as you can, you circle his waist and squeeze. There is a part of you that hates doing this in front of someone else, giving them a part of this reality in which only you and Spencer exist; but he need to know you’re still here. Next to him, where he can keep you safe. “Maeve wasn’t your fault, Spencer,” JJ whispers, and you see in her a glimpse of the woman you’ve met before. “It wasn’t your fault…” 

“But this is!” He shouts back, stopping himself from lurching forward thanks to your body glued to his. Instead, he cradles your head closer, shuts his eyes tights, and let out the most pitiful exhale you’ve ever heard. “This is my fault… Y/N wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for me.” 

“Spence–“ You can’t even deny it. Logically, it is his fault this is happening– Cat is after you simply because she’s after him. That is undeniable, and you lose yourself in the endless search of what to tell him, how to comfort him. This is your Spence. Your boyfriend. And you don’t want this type of phantasmagoric guilt hovering over his head over the course of your relationship. This is how things end before they begin. 

“I won’t let her take Y/N away from me,” When he looks at JJ again, you gasp. His eyes shine with a determination you’ve never seen before, jaw tense and hands holding you to him like he means in. This time around, you know he means is. “Not now, not ever.” 

---------------------------------------

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[auclairedetoru]

May I request Levi crushing on a stranger he saw in the coffeeshop? (Idk if you accept nsfw requests but if you do, with wet dream pls)

Hi first nonnie~ thank you so much for sending in a request! I'm not comfortable with writing detailed nsfw, but I'll try my best to deliver your vision 🤍

⭒๋࣭ ⭑. Content warning : mention of wet dreams so MDNI!!

“fuck...” Levi mumbles to himself after he wakes up from another... Strange dream, hands wiping the sweat from his face as he tried to catch his breath.

This is the second time this has happened in a week. He doesn't want to admit it out loud, but he's been having wet dreams and they all include the same person, a person Levi shouldn't be thinking about to begin with for one specific reason,

She's a stranger.

Now, he wasn't a pervert, and anyone who knows him wouldn't describe him as one either. Levi's life behind the bedroom doors has been practically nonexisting lately, too focused on his nine to five so he can provide a comfortable life for himself and that little furry brat he calls his cat. His days of meeting new people and building a relationship are left far behind him in his college years, and he honestly couldn't care less about it all anymore. So why are his dreams showing a completely different story?

The stranger in his dream, he didn't even know her name. He sees her every morning at his neighborhood's coffee shop that she started frequenting around a month ago. He would walk in and find her sitting on the sunny spot facing the window.

The first thing he noticed about her was her choice of beverage, a modest cup of green tea, not his first choice - as he prefers black tea - but a good one nonetheless. She paired it with a millefeuille with strawberries, the marble top of it being white and pink. She always has her off white cross body bag on the table, a keychain of a pink pig with bunny ears (he thinks it's a weird combination of animals, but he admits that it's cute) hanging from it. He remembers exactly what he felt when he saw her face for the first time. She had a soft smile as she read something in her magazine, her cheeks covered in a blush that he believes is makeup, the shade suiting her tone perfectly, her nose scrunched as she took a bite off of her millefeuille, a hand delicately cupped under her chin to catch the crumbs. Levi felt his heart fluttering at the simple sight of her, which he tried his best to control but it ignored his deep breaths and continued its dance.

Why was she in his dreams? And that specific type of dreams as well? He never had them in his life, let alone with a total stranger! Levi was confused, drenched in sweat, and in need of a cold shower.

As he got ready for the day, his thoughts couldn't stop drifting towards the coffee shop stranger, so he let himself indulge in them for once. He thinks she's very pretty, gorgeous even. He thinks her voice might be as sweet as her smile, and he thinks her favourite colour would be pink, given that it's what she wore most. He wonders what her music taste would be, she gives off the vibes of someone who listens to Laufey, and he likes that thought, he hopes he's right about that because he enjoys Laufey too.

Is this what having a crush feels like? Based on the books he read, movies he watched and people's experiences he's been told about, everything adds up. The nerves at the thought of talking to her, his fluttering heart, the dream... It all made sense.

Levi has a crush on a stranger.

He wants to be wrong, he wants his heart and mind to be confused and got things mixed up. He could ask his therapist about it, but he knew himself well, he just didn't want to admit it. Still, he mastered the courage on his way to the coffee shop, hoping he wasn't too early and she'd already be there like always.

Levi decides he's going to approach her today, ask if he can take the seat across from her and start a conversation with her. He has always been told he's very well spoken and that conversations with him flow easily, he hopes he'd be able to do that when talking to her without his voice shaking.

Luck must be on his side, because when he opens the door and his eyes land on her usual spot, she is there, reading a magazine like always. He takes a deep breath and walks up to the barista telling him his usual order, but to not put it in a to-go cup. After the barista smiles at him and tells him his order would be ready shortly, he turns towards the fascinating stranger, and without allowing another thought to cross his mind, he walks towards her.

“is this seat taken ?”

Levi gives himself a mental pat on the back, he didn't stutter like he was afraid he'd do.

“not at all, you can have it.”

Shit, her voice isn't like he was expecting it to be, it's way better. It sounded smooth like butter gliding on fresh croissant, silky like the bed sheets his mother gave him as a house warming gift, soft like the way his cat's fur feels after a bath. His heart is about to beat out his chest and his hands are starting to get clammy with nerves but he's still playing it cool with his posture and his nonchalant way of speaking.

His lips are about to part and speak to her, but she beat him to it.

“I noticed you come here every day at the same time, and you always order the same thing.”

She noticed him!? And knew his order!? This is the last thing he expected to hear from her, in fact, he didn't expect her to talk to him at all, he thought he'd have to start the conversation!

“yeah, I used to make my own tea before I discovered this place, couldn't find the blend they use anywhere, apparently the owner makes it from scratch with his own leaves.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued.

“I enjoy their green tea, certainly better than the ones at the grocery store. I wonder if their chamomile tea is just as good.”

Now it's Levi's turn to raise his eyebrow.

“Don't tell me you buy all your tea from the grocery store.”

“only chamomile! I drink my tea here now,” she defends herself, her pretty smile still on her face, “I don't know where else to buy it from, I'm new to town.”

“Perfect.” Levi thinks to himself. This can't get any better for him.

He casually grabs the cup of tea the barista placed in front of him a moment ago. His eyes still locked with hers despite feeling like he's about to pass out from nerves and excitement.

“how about you meet me here tomorrow? We can have our breakfast and I'll take you to my tea dealer, everything I can't get here I get from her, she's the best.”

The sweet angel in front of him giggles and he nearly melts in his seat. If only he can take that heavenly sound with him so he'd listen to it every chance he gets. It's better than any song he ever heard.

“how would I know this isn't your plan for killing me? You're a stranger after all.”

He places his cup back down after taking a sip.

“my name is Levi, Levi Ackerman. You are?”

“y/n y/l/n. It's nice to finally meet you, Levi.”

He feels like he's about to explode. He knows her name now, and it matches her so incredibly well. And the way she said his name? He never thought it would sound so beautiful until now.

“if you agree to come with me tomorrow, I'll let you search me before we go and I'll have my location turned on the whole time. Promise I won't try anything to hurt you.”

She looks down bashfully before nodding, agreeing to go with him wherever he is planning on taking her.

Levi discreetly sighs in relief seeing her agree. God, he couldn't even imagine hurting her, she's too delicate, too precious, he only wants to hold her close and hear her sweet giggles. To protect her from anything that could hurt her, whether it's big or small.

“now tell me, does Laufey happen to be your favourite artist?”

“how did you know!?”

A hint of a smile pulls at Levi's lips. He'll do anything to make her a part of his life and to keep her there forever.

[avatar-anna]

i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

[sinkovia]

Coffee Shop: III

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

Simon became a regular at the cafe, and over the two weeks since he started coming in, you grew more comfortable with him. The small conversations flowed easily, and he often lightened the atmosphere with an awful joke. One of your favorites was about two goldfish in a tank.

As he sat in his usual spot, you heard the familiar tear of the napkin, watching him stick the flimsy little piece between the pages of his book and close it. As he got up from his seat, you couldn't resist questioning him.

“Why don’t you have any bookmarks?” shaking your head slightly as you observed the flimsy napkin flaying up and down with the book.

“Why would I spend money on bookmarks when there are free bookmarks right here,” he replied with a matter-of-fact tone, making you shake your head and laugh. “Right, well, have a nice day.”

After he left, you thought for a moment, looking at your bookmark. The idea struck you – why not bring in some paper, markers, and packing tape tomorrow? During your break, you could make bookmarks for him. It was a small gesture that you hoped would bring a smile to his face. 

When you got home, you eagerly packed your bag with small blank pieces of rectangular paper and your high-end markers. The art scissors and clear packing tape joined the mix as you prepared for the creative endeavor. Excitement filled you as you thought about surprising Simon with a proper bookmark.

Walking to work the next day, you felt a giddy anticipation. As he entered the cafe, he couldn't help but notice your extra liveliness, a departure from your usual demeanor. Approaching the register, he found a hot cup of tea already waiting for him.

"You were waiting on me?" he asked, and you responded with a smile and a nod. "Just thought it would be nice if your tea was already ready for you when you walked in," you explained, beaming up at him. Simon, in his typical fashion, decided to tease a bit.

"I actually wanted a green tea today." Your eyebrows raised, lips forming a small "o" of surprise. "I can get you a green tea—" you began, reaching for the cup, but Simon quickly pulled out money from his wallet.

"All jokes, love," he said, and you laughed, taking the bills and putting them in the register, closing it with a soft click. As the time passed slowly during your shift, you occupied yourself with various tasks like cleaning the coffee machine, sanitizing the counters, and refilling the sugar station, hoping to make it to your break sooner. Despite your efforts, only twenty minutes seemed to pass, and you decided to say fuck it since there were no customers coming in.

You grabbed your bag and walked over to Simon, taking the seat across from him at the small table. He looked up from his book, intrigued, as he watched you pull out colorful markers and paper. With bright eyes, you sat up in your chair.

“So what are some things you like?” Simon put his book down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s the paper for?” You pulled out the bookmark from the book in your bag and slid it over to him. He grabbed it, holding it up and fighting back his smile at the small drawings of penguins near an ice globe fighting about communism.

“You want to make me a bookmark?”

“Yeah, it's so depressing looking at the flimsy excuse of a bookmark.” He smiled, looking at the napkin. “So what do you like? Stars? Dogs? Trees? Oh, wait! I have the perfect thing to draw.” 

Simon leaned back in the chair, sipping his tea, and watched you draw away, switching the color of the markers every so often. He found it cute the way you were concentrated on what was in front of you.

It only took you about five minutes, but when you were done, you held the bookmark up to Simon with a smile. He couldn't help but laugh as he grabbed it, examining all the little details you drew. It was the joke he had told you a few days ago.

Two goldfish are in a tank, one says to the other, you know how to drive this thing?

You drew two fish coming out of the top of an army tank, having a conversation with each other. You added them underwater and included little battle fish with helmets charging forward.

Your eyes lingered on his smile as he scanned over the drawing. Your heart warmed, knowing he liked it. You extended your hand, and he handed it back to you. Flipping it over, you looked at him, “What should be on the back?”

Simon thought it would be funny to tell you another joke. “What has two legs and bleeds?”

You thought for a moment, slightly humming to yourself. “A gunshot victim?”

“Half a dog.”

You blankly stared at him, then laughed, “You're awful for thinking of that.” He smiled and brought the cup up to his lips, taking a long sip. “You gonna draw it?”

“I’ll draw something better,” you said, smiling and already starting the drawing. You decided to draw a dog shooting a man. Giving the dog a suit and black sunglasses, you added a large assault rifle and made little bullets fly, piercing the man as he fell to the floor. You slid the final product over, and Simon let out an audible laugh. You couldn't hide the way your eyes locked onto his face.

"This is really good, y/n." You had never felt more proud, and you couldn't stop smiling even after he handed the bookmark back to you so you could put packing tape over it. Carefully cutting the extra tape that hung off the sides, you slid it back over to him.

Simon opened his book, took out the napkin, and replaced it with the bookmark, closing the book. "See, look how much better that looks."

"You're right." He looked up at you, holding your gaze, and you couldn't help but smile. The door opened, and you quickly got up, going behind the counter to take an order. After making the person's order, you walked back to Simon, sitting across from him again.

You took out another strip of paper, and you looked up at him, "Skulls." It was all he said, and you smiled, immediately getting to work. You drew little realistic skulls with blood oozing out of the eye sockets. Leaving some space in the middle, you drew a little grim reaper because Reaper and skulls go together, right?

"The reaper’s a nice touch." You smiled, finishing the last little details. "Thought you would like it."

You looked at the clock and cursed under your breath. Your break was over, and you had to get back to work. "Unfortunately, I have to get back to work. I’ll finish this side before you leave."

"Sounds good, love, and thank you for making them." You smiled as you put the markers and supplies back into your bag. "No need to thank me; I had fun drawing them."

As you stood behind the counter, you thought about what to draw on the other side. Glancing up at Simon, who was engrossed in his book, you decided he would be the perfect thing to put on the other side. You took your time drawing him, using different colors and creating a cute, colorful sketch of him sitting by the window, holding the cup to his lips as he looked down at a book. The drawing depicted a very warm scene, with small rays of sunshine through the window and added details on the table.

The small alarm on his watch went off, and he glanced at you doodling away. He pushed the off button and stayed in the seat, continuing to read until you were done drawing. You quickly cut the extra pieces of packing tape and walked over to him.

"Sorry, that took a bit longer than I expected." You handed him the bookmark, and as he took it, you heard your manager call you to the back.

"Shit, I have to go. Walk home safe." You turned and sped walked into the back towards the kitchen.

Simon turned, pushing the door open and flipping over the bookmark. His eyes grew a little wide upon seeing your drawing of him. No one had ever drawn him before, and the way you captured him so at peace with life and the things around him was something he never thought anyone could see. He felt something swirl deep in his chest, a warmth that enveloped his body despite it being winter. You drew in his watch and the torn napkin, even adding the six dollars he tipped you when he first went there. He smiled and couldn't stop staring at all the small details you added during his walk back home.